Chronicles of Fairfield University (1942 - 1992). Book 3: Turmoil and Triumph: The McInnes Years.

              Fr. McInnes shared the detonator with a student at
a ground-breaking ceremonyfor the new Campus
Cente~ which became a focus ofmany activities
after it opened in 1966.
CHRONICLES
!!/
FAIRFIELD UNIVERSITY
BOOK THREE:
By
Paul I. Davis
Fairfield, Connecticut
1992
The six Chronicles of Fairfield University are being published in
conjunction with the observance of the 50th Anniversary of
the founding of Fairfield University and Fairfield College
Preparatory School.
The booklets are published under the auspices of the
Anniversaries Committee which includes:
Rev. Vincent M. Burns, S.]. Rev. John J. Higgins, S.].
Lawrence F. Carroll Stephen P. Jakab
Mrs. Patricia M. Danko (Sec.) William J. Lucas
George E. Diffley (Chair) Dr. Mary Frances A.H. Malone
Murray Farber Mrs. Clarissa Sinagulia
James D. Fitzpatrick Mrs. Mary Spiegel
Rev. Victor F. Leeber, S.].
Alphonsus J. Mitchell (Chair)
Mrs. Elizabeth G. Hoagg
The History Subcommittee, which served as the editorial poard,
includes:
Dr. William M. Abbott
Paul Davis
CHRONICLES
i/
FAIRFIELD UNIVERSITY
By Paul I. Davis
La university is a living thing - and many of us who work in one
feel it is - then, like all living things, it must go through that period of
trials and tribulation we call adolescence. For Fairfield that period
happened to coincide with the great trauma of the 1960s when
disillusionment displaced the euphoria with which the decade had
begun. Adding to the trouble was the agony of Viet Nam with its special
significance for the draft-age population of college campuses across the
nation.
This was the milieu which the Rev. William C. McInnes would face
when he assumed office as Fairfield's fifth President in 1964. The story
of the stormy years of his presidency - of Fairfield's rites-of-passage ­is
the subject of the following chronicle. DUring that period of travail­to
a great extent because of the calm consistency of his leadership - the
University endured the pangs and pains of the, maturing process and
emerged as an increasingly respected and valued contributor to the
American educational scene. That out of the turmoil came the triumph
is the ultimate measure of the greatness of the contribution Fr. McInnes
made to th~ development of Fairfield into an institution in which we can
all take just pride.
In composing this, the third of the chronicles of Fairfield University,
it was found necessary to change somewhat the format ofits two excellent
predecessors. While as an historian I am trained to esteem the value of
1
primary sources, I am also aware of the necessity of being wary of their
inherent prejudices. Since the era I am to cover is a period which I lived
through on this campus and since I was deeply involved in the dramatic
events of 1966-1970 (by happenstance I was on the University Council
and, simultaneously, Chairman of the Disciplinary Review Board), it was
obvious to me that I could not write of them with the total objectivity that
is the aim (never achieved) of the professional historian. Consequently,
in the interest of honesty, I have added my personal commentary ­clearly
identifi~d as such - to the factual account of events. Hopefully,
this I-was-there factor will add a flavor to the narrative which will partially
compensate for its other inadequacies.
FR. WIUlAM McINNES
The Rev. William C. McInnes, S.]., was the quintessential American
leader ofthe 1960s: young, urbane, self assured, handsome and articulate,
he immediately impressed with his intelligence, perception, and breadth
of vision. Charming and affable, yet conveying a strong air of authority
(qualities he retains a quarter century later), he entered the Fairfield
presidency in 1964 much as John F. Kennedy had the American
presidency in 1961, projecting an aura of hope and promise, change and
progress, which thrilled us all.
Immediately upon his arrival on campus, he transfered the presiden­tial
offices from their cloistered seclusion in Bellarmine to the first floor
of Canisius - from the periphery to the center of university life and
activity. And this move was more than symbolic for he early demonstrated
that he intended to involve all members of the Fairfiled community in the
planning and decisions which affected them and that he hoped to lead
through consensus and persuasion rather than the patriarchal dicta of the
past. And he ardently desired to widen the horizon of the University: in
the make-up of the faculty and student body, in the variety of class
offerings, and in its contribution to and impact upon the surrounding
community.
In his inaugural address, given at his formal installation on October
27, 1964 and entitled "The Religious University in a Pluralistic Society,"
he stated:
2
"Further we declare that the university is open to all men
regardless of race, creed, or color. While no institution in a
pluralistic society is of universal attraction to all, we publicly state
that for anyone in the community, the primary qualification for
entrance here is an interest in seeking and knowing and
treasuring the truth wherever you may find it."
And later:
"Finally, we accept wholeheartedly our role in the commu­nity.
We seek to be not so much privileged citizen as major
contributor, and though we have just one gift to give - the gift
of intellect - we pledge that gift to preserve what is best of the
past, and to explore what is most promising in the future."
The inauguration heralded the new era which was dawning at
Fairfield. But the Fairfield of 1964, while it had progressed dramatically
in the brief period of its existence, did not seem fertile ground for
innovation or revitalization. It remained both insular (90 percent of the
student body was from the Tri-State area) and insulated (members of the
Corporation governing the University were all Jesuits and all members of
the internal administration). The Jesuits' presence on campus was
overwhelming. Not only did they totally control the corporation but all
the si~nificant administrative and academic posts were held by members
of the Society. All major decisions had to be approved by the Provincial
or Superior General. While the majority of the faculty were now laymen,
practically every department chair was occupied by a Jesuit (chairs were
appointed rather than elected). Most still taught their classes wearing
cassocks and few were seen at any time in other than clerical garb. The
majority of them lived in the dormitories acting both as counselors and
disciplinarians so that they seemed ubiquitous to both faculty and
students.
The lay faculty felt itself to be in a kind oflimbo status with its position
ill-defined. While a chapter of the American Association of University
Professors ha~ been founded byJohn Barone_in 1957, it had made only
limited progress in influencing policy. The vast majority ofthe faculty was
Roman Catholic and had been trained at Catholic institutions, primarily
on the Eastern seaboard. In 1963, the first two women (Joan Walters and
Dorothy Shaffer) had been added to the faculty but further diversification
3
on the gender front would be slow in coming; hampered, no doubt, by
the fact that the University did not become coeducational (a term that was
anathema in 1964 - note that Fr. McInnes referred to "race, creed, and
color" but not sex) until 1970. In general, the lay faculty had an agreeable
relationship with the Jesuits, tempered with deference and respect, but
was anxious for an official handbook which would define its position
with more precision and clarity than the wording of the annual contracts.
The stud~nt body, numbering about 1,300 and somewhat evenly
divided between residents and commuters, was basically homogeneous
in domicile, background, and religion. The multi-paged Student Hand­book
which governed their lives included rules on such subjects as
parietals, dress code, and sign-in, all terms that would be anachronisms
a decade later, and even included a list of places that were offlimits to
Fairfield Stags. Activities were organized along class lines with the
Dogwood Festival being the highlight of the year. The Knights of
Columbus were very active, as were the Glee Club and the Cardinal Key
Society. The basketball and baseball teams were gaining prominence as
was the fledgling rugby club and the intramural program drew the
enthusiastic participation of the majority of the students. Area clubs
helped keep both the student body and the alumni involved with the
University and its program.
The new administration, however, had as its self-imposed task the
revitalization and transformation of all these sectors into a more cohesive,
dynamic whole which would reflect the role of Catholic education in a
pluralistic society. In essence, the goal would be to prove that the terms
"Catholic" and "University" are not antithetical and to demonstrate the
great contributions that Fairfield University could and would make to the
nearby community and to the country at large.
In broadening the scope and diversification of the University
administration and governance, Fr. McInnes was greatly aided by three
contemporary factors: the spirit of aggiomamento being propagated by
the Vatican II Ecumenical Council; the decisions ofthe Thirty-first General
Congregation of the Society of Jesus (held in 1965-66); and the legal
question involved in the application of church-related colleges to receive
matching funds from the government for construction. Indeed, in the last
instance, Fairfield itselfwould become a target in a litigation which would
go all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court for final settlement.
4
The reorganization and enlargement of the governing body fol­lowed
a logical and progressive pattern. First, Fr. McInnes created an
Advisory Council of 30, drawn from the neighboring business and
professional community. These men and women not only represented
the involvement of the laity (Catholic and non-Catholic alike) in the
planning of Fairfield's future but were a significant overture in establish­ing
a friendly and mutually beneficial relationship with neighbors. This
step only presaged the ultimate objective of placing laymen in positions
of real responsibility with decision-making powers in University gover­nance.
In 1968, the Corporation was initially expanded to include the first
Jesuits who were not a part ofthe Fairfield Community (Charles Donovan,
S.]., and James J. McGinley, S.].) and then the first laymen (James Joy of
City Trust Company arid James Birkenstock of IBM).
The following year, the name of St. Robert Bellarmine was dropped
from the official title of the University and from its seal (the original can
still be seen in the mosaic on the floor of the lobby of Alumni Hall), and
the Society, the Church, and the State of Connecticut were removed as
residual heirs in case of the University's dissolution. On September 8, the
roles of the rector and president were separated, divorcing the religious
superiorship from the administrative authority and removing the canoni­cal
six-year limitation from the presidency.
In February 1970 the process was completed by the establishment
of a Board ofTrustees which would include ten laymen and eightJesuits.
It adopted a new set of by-laws which included:
"The number of Trustees shall not be less than seven nor
more than twenty-five; at least one third of whom shall be
members of the Society of Jesus.... no officer or eluployee of
Fairfield University shall be elected a Trustee ... the President of
th~ University shall be a member of the Society ofJesus, in good
standing."
And so the governing body which six years before had been
comprised exclusively of men1bers of the University community now
would be in the hands of people from the outside world. And while the
presidency would remain in Jesuit hands, the President would no longer
be answerable to authorities in Boston or Rome. The Board of Trustees
5
In his inaugural
address,
Fr. McInnes
emphasized the
openess ofthe
University to
anyone with
"an interest
in seeking
and knowing
and treasuring
the truth.))
which now held all administrative power would now be open to any
person whose talents, experience, and expertise would contribute to the
University's growth.
The election on December 17, 1972 of Mr. DavidJewitt, senior vice
president of the Connecticut National Bank in Bridgeport, as chairman
of the board signified that Fairfield had now become a catholic as well
as a Catholic institution.
INTERNAL CHANGES
Paralleling the transformation of the corporate structure of the
University was a dramatic transformation of its internal administration. In
this area, Fr. McInnes was particularly fortunate to be able to tap the
abilities of two of the true titans in the history of Fairfield University, Dr.
John A. Barone and the Rev. James H. Coughlin, S.].
Dr. Barone joined the Chemistry Department in 1950 and became
a full professor in 1962. In 1966, he became the first layman ever to
achieve vice presidential status when he became Vice President for
6
Planning and in 1970 began a 22-year term as the University's first (and
only) Provost. His breadth ofvision, financial acumen, and extraordinary
command of detail were of supreme importance in the growth of
Fairfield, particularly in its physical expansion. This led one faculty
member to comment: "If Yankee Stadium is 'The house that Ruth built,'
then Fairfield is 'the University that john built.' "
Fr. Coughlin came to Fairfield in 1955 as Dean ofGraduate Education
and seven years later was named the Dean of the College of Arts and
Sciences, which at the time comprised all the undergraduate students. In
1966 he also became Vice President for Academics, a post he would hold
until 1977. He would also serve as acting President between the regime
of Fr. McInnes and Fr. Thomas Fitzgerald. It was Fr. Coughlin who would
preside over the accelerated expansion and diversification of the faculty
in the late '60s and h~ was determined that faculty quality should not only
be enhanced but that the conditions necessary for their maximum
performance be created. He once said that he would never let a classroom
that seated more than 40 students be built. He backed limitations on the
number of class hours and different courses demanded of any individual
faculty member and, in general, acted as a zealous advocate for faculty
interests. The fundamental parameters for the future faculty growth and
advancement were set by this genial man who proved a tower of strength
throughout his tenure and who left an indelible mark on the heritage of
Fairfield.
Also in 1966, Harry Huss had been named Vice President of
Operations (as well as Treasurer) and in 1970 the number of Vice
Presidents was increased to five, of whom four were laymen: john A.
Barone, University Resources; Daniel Ryan, University Relations; john M.
Hickson, Business and Finance; William P. Schimpf, Student Services;
and one jesuit - Fr. james H. Coughlin, Academics.
In 1966 Mrs. Audrey]. Thompson was appointed as Director of
Special Events and concerted efforts were begun to establish a balanced
set of academic offerings and events which would benefit and attract
Fairfield's neighbors. In the process, the campus lost its insularity and
became, in truth, a focal point for the cultural activity of the adjacent
community.
The compartmentalization of administration activities and delega­tion
of responsibility for them, under the watchful eye of the Provost,
7
enabled Fr. McInnes to become an active civic leader in the Bridgeport
area and in the state. Joseph Preville in his excellent thesis recounts:
He served as chairman of the Higher Education Center for
Urban Studies of Bridgeport, the Commission on Federal and
State Relations of the Association ofJesuit Colleges and Univer­sities;
the Committee on Alternate Approaches for the Delivery of
Higher Education for the State of Connecticut; and the Project
Advisory Committee of the New Rural Societies Project, which
operated under a H.U.D. federal grant and in which Fairfield
University served as prime contractor. McInnes also served as
President of the Connecticut Higher Education Television Asso­ciation
and the Connecticut Association for Community Action,
and first vice president of the United Cerebral Palsy Association
of Fairfield County, Inc., and chairman of Bridgeport's anti­poverty
agency - Action for Bridgeport Community Develop­ment,
Inc. (ABCD).
Nor were these posts simple nominal commitments, for under his
aegis Fairfield became actively involved in programs such as Upward
Bound and the Appalachian Project.
During this period, too, the faculty was organizing itself to regulate
and formalize its position in the University structure to maximize its
contribution in all areas of the academic community. The role of the
Academic Council - now increas,ingly lay in composition - was
expanding and its influence greatly increased but it became apparent that
some type of constitution was needed to regularize the faculty role. To
that end, a subcommittee of the Council was formed to create a faculty
manual. Working assiduously for three years, the committee produced
a viable Faculty Handbook which was adopted in 1968. While it has
undergone as many revisions as a telephone book, it remains the basic
document governing faculty operations. Under it, a committee system has
developed covering such diverse areas as Admissions, Conference with
the Board of Trustees, the Library, Research, Faculty Development,
Educational Planning, etc. Rather significantly some committees such as
Religious Life have been dropped while Student Life was subsumed into
the University Council.
8
Before the acceptance of the Handbook by the Board of Trustees in
1968, some of the committees (which had already been formed with the
encouragement of or at the behest of the President) had occasionally
found themselves being balked or superseded by executive actions,
usually explained as the result of the need for immediate action, which
left them with the feeling that they were simply going through the
motions. This goes a long way toward explaining the split in faculty
reactions to the student rebellion of 1969 and 1970. But the faculty gained
in self-confidence and assertiveness and when in 1971 the complicated
question of whether a tenured Jesuit theologian who had resigned from
the order and declared his agnosticism should be permitted to continue
teaching, an overwhelming faculty vote to support him (including a
significant number of Jesuits) forced President McInnes to abandon
efforts for his removal.
During the McInnes era, too, the faculty not only almost doubled but
became increasingly heterogeneous in background, academic pedigree,
religion, and expertise. Their diversity inevitably increased the richness
of the academic program but, since most of us tend to attempt to recreate
the academic milieu from which we emerged, guaranteed a lively debate
before any faculty position was adopted.
This diversification was accelerated by the establishment of the
School of Nursing in 1970 under Dean Elizabeth K. Dolan and the School
ofCorporate and Political Communication (which had undergone several
title changes in its planning stages, including the interesting version of
The Winston Churchill Center for Effective Human Communication)
under the Rev. Thomas]. Burke, S.]., in 1966 - an event which even
received coverage in TIME magazine.
By the time Fr. McInnes left for San Francisco in January 1973, the
relatively supine faculty he had inherited eight and a halfyears earlier had
been activated and transformed, determined to exert an effective
influence on policy and practice and to fulfill its fruitful function in the
operation of the University.
CHURCH AND STATE
As the strengths of the faculty were broadened and deepened, the
necessity to provide a physical plant in which their talents could be more
9
effectively utilized in the educational aims of the University became
increasingly evident. Ironically, it was in pursuit of this wholly laudable
goal that Fr. McInnes faced one of the most severe trials - and significant
triumphs - of his administration.
Under Title 1 of the Higher Education Facilities Act of 1963 Fairfield
had received grants of $245,310 toward the construction of a science
facility and $500,000 toward the construction of a library. But in
September 1968 the University was served with a complaint challenging
the constitutionality of these grants. Ultimately thi's challenge, along with
challenges against grants given to Sacred Heart University, Annhurst
College and Albertus Magnus College - all Catholic institutions in
Connecticut - were grouped into a single case to become known finally
as Tilton v. Richardson and to be carried all the wayto the Supreme Court.
Initiated by Eleanor Taft Tilton and 14 others, including eight college
professors from the University of Connecticut, Trinity, Wesleyan and
Hartford, the case would allege that the grants were in violation of the
First and Fourteenth Amendments. The plaintiffs' chief counsel, Leo
Pfeffer, a well known civil libertarian from the American]ewish Congress
who had handled several similar cases previously, and Peter Costas ofthe
American Civil Liberties Union, argued that:
"The crux of the matter is the ... buildings here, like the
furnace in the church, are not epds in themselves but means to
an end and any financial grant that aids the means advances the
ends. The end of a church college. . . is to advance religion. . ."
The defendant institutions, of which Fairfield became the most
, ..J
prominent because over half the contested grants were to be devoted
here, employed the eminent attorney Edward Bennett Williams who
argued that the primary purpose of these colleges, while they were
indeed church related, was to fulfill the educational function for which
they received their secular charter (from the State of Connecticut).
Therefore they should be judged on the basis of: 1.) accreditation; 2.)
openness to all persons; and 3.) academic freedom.
As the case neared decision in the U.S. District Court in Hartford, Fr.
McInnes described the growing apprehension:
"Our future rested not in our own hands but in the hands
of lawyers and judges .... The university seemed a pawn in the
10
struggle to delineate delicate church-state relationships in a
nation which has always probed this area with timidity and
restraint. . .'. We recognized that an academic institution was
being judged by a legal one . . . the university sat in the legal
section while the game was played in the court."
On March 19, 1970, the district court decided in favor of the
defendants. Leo Pfeffer immediately announced that this decision would
be appealed to the Supreme Court. Almost a year later the court heard
oral arguments for two days (March 2 and 3, 1971) and three months after
that, on June 28, 1971, by the narrow margin of 5-4, the Supreme Court
upheld the lower court decision. ChiefJustice Warren Burger delivered
the majority opinion while William O. Douglas, not surprisingly, led the
dissent. Commenting on the decision, Charles H. Wilson, one of the
attorneys for the four colleges, stated:
"(Burger) focused on the actual practice and policies of the
defendant colleges as presented in the trial evidence. That
evidence revealed that the defendant colleges were legitimate
educational institutions which added a religious dimension to the
education they offered."
Alld so, willy-nilly, Fairfield was propelled into center stage in the
struggle for all private education - especially church-related - to
survive in the United States. And additional credence was given to the
policy (already described) ofthe McInnes regime to laicize the University's
governance and administration.
STIJDENT UNREST
But while Fairfield's fate was being decided in the nation's courts,
attention here on campus was diverted by a series of events which were
to lead to two building takeovers, a student strike, the formation of a
commission to investigate the president, a constitutional convention, and
assorted other tribulations which marked the rites of passage for the
Fairfield student body and the University as a whole.
11
Writing ofthe events of1992) I am struck by how anachronistic or
irrelevant the catchwords ofthat era - parietals) dress code) sign-sheets)
in loco parentis) etc. - will appear to the Fairfield community oftoday.
Even the then-hallowed tenn TRIPAR71SM, which was the cherishedgoal
for many; a demon for others; and a convenient cloak to cover the
aspirations ofstill others) has lost itspotency andappeal. But the Fairfield
ofthe late sixties and early seventies reverberated with these concepts and
what role they wouldplay in refonning and infonning the destiny ofthe
school. As America struggled to end an unpopular war whose impact on
campuses throughout the land was immeasurable- not only in the rise
ofsuch disparate entities as the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS)
andgrade inflation) but in community resentment ofstudent defennents
which led many students) perhaps someguiltily) to adopt a social agenda
which they pursued with more fervor than understanding - Fairfield
produced and endured its own unique set oftraumas and crises. Even in
retrospect) the sincerityandintegrityofmostofthepeople involved in those
troubled times is impressive. C~rtainly there was a sense ofurgency and
excitementthat has neverbeen duplicatedsince. Nogroup achievedall the
changes itdesired orpreservedall the things itvalued butwhen the tunnoil
had subsided a different and richer Fairfield had emerged.
The first evidence of student discontent assumed a traditional
academic guise. Books which were on the Index (and others which the
University Librarian considered offensive) were kept in a wire mesh
"cage" in the library (then located on the ground floor ofCanisius). During
the night of April 11-12, 1965, students broke into the library and
"liberated" these volumes, placing them upon the open stacks. Both Fr.
McInnes and Dean Coughlin were unperturbed by this incident and,
indeed, the Index was soon to be abolished at the urging of Vatican II.
But some of the wording of the "Manifesto" circulated anonymously on
campus ominously presaged the rhetoric of a later period:
"Today we students have unilaterally abolished the Index
of Forbidden Books and Canon 1399 ... The Administration can
choose to ignore their antiquated canon, or it can choose to
sponsor further ignorance. We have made our choice. We have
our moment of academic freedom."
12
During the period through the spring of 1969 the more onerous
sections of the Student Handbook concerning the dress code, compul­sory
Mass and retreats, the elimination of "sign-in, sign-out" sheets and
the extension of parietals were mitigated. More importantly, the students
were given a much more effective voice in their own governance through
the formation of the new student government constitution, dormitory
councils, and a disciplinary ~eview board. Finally, in September 1968, the
University Council was formed, which, though only advisory, was a
dramatic expression of possible cooperation on a permanent basis of the
three major components of the University community.
Not that all this was accomplished without travail, however. While
progress was made steadily, if not spectacularly, under the leadership of
Student Body President Philip Howe, the election of a new president,
Albert J. Mariani, in March 1969 signaled a new revolutionary mood
among the students. Mariani's initial move was the issuance of six
unilateral, non-negotiable demands accompanied by an ultimatum that
they must all be accomplished by April 16th. Most ofthese demands were
reasonable and some were already in the process of implementation but
the note ofchallenge and rebellion in their wording indicated an ominous
undercurrent in the attitude of the student body. This was underscored
by a mass meeting (destined to be the first of many) held on the Campus
Center lawn at which several hundred students listened to harangues by
five speakers. The high (and low) point of the meeting was the sudden
appearance of a pike bearing a dead pig's head on the steps next to
Canisius and its ceremonial procession down through the crowd. All that
was needed was Madame DeFarge. While this action was disavowed by
the student government, it was becoming clear that that were elements
among their constituency whom they did not represent and could not
control.
Ultimately, the student body accepted a compromise proposed by
Dean of Students Robert Griffin and rejected the proposal of a strike. The
school year ended in May 1969 on a note of uneasy peace. In that same
period, campuses across the nation had suffered real trauma and
disruption, and even violence. Fairfield had remained pacific, perhaps
because the issues had remained internal and parochial. However, it is
instructive to read parts ofa leaflet published by "the Radical Middle" (one
ofmany anonymous groups which appeared on campus at the time) and
slipped under doors during exam week:
13
THE RADICAL MIDDLE ­COMMENCEMENT
EDITION
As we close out the year, the Radical Middle presents this
final issue dedicated to the administrators of this University who
have proven their true characters in the recent student unrest.
Here is our list of the "chosen people" of Fairfield University.
"???? List"
1. Rev. William C. McInnes. The number one super fink of the
"University community." The servant of the Westport-Weston
community. Received his Ph.D. from the Arthur Treacher
School of Domestic Help. Direct intimidator of the student
negotiators. Punch of the Punch and Judy combination. A
veritable Janus. Master of the mealy-mouth. Tri-Partite all
rolled into one.
2. Tom Donahue. The Judy of the team. A sincere public
relations man, and that means a sincere bag ofwind speaking
out of both orifices and still saying nothing. A $19,500 salary
for an osculator of the gluteus maximus. Is that in the budget,
Mr. Zeyn?
3. Audrey Qn Wonderland) Thomson. The Westport Wonder
Woman. Her scheduling is as good as that of the New Haven
Railroad and just as interesting. The personification of our
service to the "community." The Doctor DoLittle of the
University trying desparately to "talk to the animals" (and you
know who they are - yourselves). The only one who can
schedule an event in the midst of exams and still contend that
it is for the benefit of the students.
During the summer of 1969, members of the newly formed
University Council worked on recommendations to transform itself into
a University Senate with decision making powers in some areas and
representation on the Board of Trustees. While the administration
appeared to give this movement its blessing and it would become
popular with the student body, in the fall it would not find favor with the
faculty which was still revising its own handbook. In the words of Fr.
James Murphy:
14
Students gathered on the lawn below Canisius for one ofthe
(Teople)s Meetings)) that characterized the times.
"This is hardly the moment to speak to the faculty of
"shared responsibility" in any Tri-Partite Government, for it has
not yet fully lived with "shared responsibility" within its own
community."
This same Fr. Murphy) howeve0 enthusiastically supported the deci­sion
ofthe History Department (which he would soon chair) to include
students in its department meetings and give them voice and vote in
practially all department affairs save election. Like manyfaculty) he was
not opposed to expanding the role ofthe students in the academicprocess
but only cautious as to how it should be done.
15
On November 12, 1969, the outside world and its overriding issues
intruded onto the domestic malaise of the Fairfield scene. On that date,
20 black students presented a list of six demands to Fr. McInnes and the
new Dean of Students William P. Schimpf. They were: 1.) an increase of
black enrollment to 240 by September 1970 (there were then 43 black
students) - 65 ofwhom should be female; 2.) the hiring of black student
counselors; 3.) black professors in every department of the University; 4.)
the teaching ofFula, a West African language; 5.) the establishment of a
black residential dormitory floor; and 6.) the institution of a black holiday.
All these were to be accomplished by November 19 or action would be
taken. In a lengthy reply, Fr. McInnes accepted the principles expressed
in all of the demands except number 5 as goals toward which the
University should strive and indeed was striving. He rejected the demand
for a black floor on the grounds that this would be reverse discrimination
and pointed out that hiring counselors and professors depended on
availability and expertise, while the introduction of new courses neces­sitated
sufficient enrollments. He further indicated that the University was
making strenuous efforts to increase the number of black students on
campus; it was the reluctance ofblacks to come here that posed the major
problem in that area. He also rejected numerical racial quotas in either
recruitment or employment on legal and moral grounds.
The black students rejected the McInnes statement as "filled with
prevarication and duplicity" and in the early morning hours ofNovember
21 they occupied and secured Xavier Hall. After a 5:~15 a.m. meeting with
the students involved and finding an impasse, Fr. McInnes consulted with
faculty, student and administrative advisors and they argued that the
"University should take the path of negotiation rather than use police
force to solve the problem. Accompanied by community black leaders
including famed jazz pianist Billy Taylor, John Merchant, Charles Tisdale,
and Mrs. Em Thompson, and other observers, Fr. McInnes entered into
the marathon negotiations culminating in the signing of an agreement
(which basically followed the initial McInnes response) at midnight. The
students then vacated Xavier.
In his report to the community the following day, Fr. McInnnes noted
that the confrontation was "rooted in a society-wide problem of race
relations - a problem that presently engulfs our entire country as well
as our individual campus."
16
And indeed the surrounding community which had remained
relatively aloof towards Fairfield's problems reacted to this one with
passion. Among the many letters received by the president, two reveal
the polarity of popular response. One states: "You pursued the cowardly
course. I am fearfu11 you will live to regret it." A second comments: "In this
age of anxiety and era of violence, it is encouraging to know that there
are men of good will and faith in the democratic process of learning to
live together in a peaceful society." To the McInnes critics, his handling
of the situation had been a craven capitulation; to his advocates, he had
pursued a policy of moderation and far-sightedness, humane and
progressive. In the event, the teaching ofFula was dropped due to limited
interest, the increase in black enrollment and representation on the
faculty and in the administration is woefully meager 20 years later, and
the institution of a black holiday has become the most concrete result of
the controversy.
Events had moved too swiftly for most of the University to articulate
reactions but in general, the student body seemed diffident - or to use
the most hated term in the Stag lexicon apathetic - toward the black
demands and actions. For that reason the black students appeared to be
relatively indifferent to the building takeover the following spring.
However, the students had noted well the effectiveness of building
takeovers and hence were receptive to repeating and extending the
process when another crisis arose.
The Univer~ity Council, however, did adopt (on February 4, 1970)
a series of recommendations concerning campus disorder which in­cluded
the following:
"The University does not approve of actions which deprive
others of the opportunity to speak or to be heard, to physically
obstruct movement, or otherwise disrupt the legitimate educa­tional
or institutional processes in a way that interferes with
academic freedom of others. While recognizing freedom of
speech and freedom of assembly, the University also recognizes
the legal and moral rights of those engaged in normal academic
activities and strives to protect the interest of all its members.
If the avenues for solution are not accepted and the
disruption continues, those persons who cannot be identified as
members of the Academic Community will be dealt with accord-
17
ingly. Members of the Community will again be asked to cease
and desist."
The recommendation then called for a meeting of the University
Council (or, if it could not be convened, of other members of the
Community) to be convened to discuss the grievances leading to the
disruption and then continues:
"If the activities of the University and/or normal actions of
the University administrators or other members of the University
do not result in control of the situation, an authorized member
of the Administration will take whatever legal means are neces­sary
to restore order or to re-establish the rights of the offended
parties."
and concludes:
"The invoking of legal sanctions from outside the campus
is a clear indication that the Community has been unable to reach
a satisfactory conclusion to its problems through normal channels
and is to be used, therefore, only as a last resort."
How well these recommendations were known to the Fairfield
Community and how much they were carried out (in letter or spirit) in
the weeks that followed were matters of contention that remain
unresolved.
Nonetheless, it would be the spring semester of 1970 that would
bring the most Widespread confrontation between the Fairfield student
body and the administration; with the rebellion more and more centering
on ad hominem attacks on President McInnes as the cause of all the
problems which had arisen. In essence, all the malaise that permeated
American society in the late '60s - the frustration caused by the King and
Kennedy assassinations, the disillusionment with a seemingly endless
and needless war, the widening ofthe generation gap - became merged
with the campus issues - academic reform, tripartism, and financial
responsibility - and tended to blur the real objectives of the controversy
which followed.
The first sign of the troubles to come were the issuance of 17
"negotiable demands," - an oxymoron, perhaps, but true to the jargon
18
of the time - by the new FUSA president, sophomore Dennis Gallagher,
on February 26, with an "ultimatum" slated for March 15.
OnMarch 7, the University Council met in extraordinary session with
Fr. McInnes, Fr. Coughlin, and members ofthe Academic Council and ten
student government members to consider the student demands. It was
determined that lllost of the points of issue, particularly curricular reform
and the question of tripartism, were already being investigated by the
appropriate groups and to emphasize this, the Council called for a
constitutional convention with expanded representation from all three
sectors to meet throughout the weekend of March 25-27. While the
participants agreed to this, an ominous noted sounded in a Stag editorial.
"The struggle of the students lies not in fiats or committees
or even petition - it lies in numbers, in the quantitative and
concentrated strength which is the only language the power
brokers of this university have ever understood. Our marching
call has come again."
At the constitutional convention meetings, too, it became apparent
that there was widespread disagreement about tripartism - in what areas
it would be binding and where it would be merely advisory - with many
on the faculty opposed to the whole concept and a feeling among the
students that the administration was being duplicitous and using
tripartism as a wedge between students and faculty. In particular,
Gallagher accused McInnes of doublespeak throughout the meetings.
Their suspicions seemed confirmed when on April 21 the adminis­tration
announced unilaterally that a Doors rock concert scheduled for
May 9had been cancelled and that a new dormitorywould be constructed
for the fall (when, incidentally, the first coeds would arrive). The students
felt that both actions were violations of the professed spirit of tripartism
and that the Doors incident involved some dishonest manipulation with
the Fairfield town government. Therefore, FUSA called for a seven-day
strike to begin- Wednesday, April 22. The following day, the student
legislature by a vote of 38-5 defined t1:le objective of the strike to be the
resignation of Fr. McInnes and the establishment of binding tripartite
governance.
Pickets soon appeared at the entrances of Canisius and Xavier
carrying placards but not physically blocking access to the buildings.
19
Immediately class attendance dropped to about 20-25 percent. By Friday,
however, about one third of the facuty had agreed to hold classes at
neutral locations (so that neither they nor the students would have to
cross the picket lines) and these were well attended so the academic
functions continued, even if only in a truncated fashion.
Meanwhile, meetings were being held on a practically non-stop
basis involving all segments of the community. Early on, shortly after a
mysterious fire which destroyed some records stored in Canisius
basement, Fr. McInnes met with student leaders to assure them he had
no intention of resigning and to point out that a strike was in itself the
same kind of unilateral violation of the tripartite system with which they
were accusing him. The next day a general faculty meeting decided that
the faculty would reserve taking an official position on the strike in order
to maintain its position as mediator. The Academic Council contented
itself with labeling the strike "regretable" and calling for a return to
normalcy. The students began a series of"people's meetings" (revolution­ary
rhetoric never seems to change) held in the daytime in the Campus
Center lounge and at night in either the gymnasium or Gonzaga
auditorium. These were often taken over by the more vocal radicals and
on the Gonzaga stage one firebrand brandished a knife and called for the
extermination of the reactionaries. While not many took this seriously,
word of his harangue was bruited about the campus and caused some
unease.
Afew nights later I was leaVing campus after a meeting which had
lasted until ten. My car at the time had developed certain peculiarities­none
ofthe doors would lock and the engine died after each left turn. As
I drove down the hillI passedseveral carsfull ofobvious SDS types arriving
for a People's Meeting. When I turned left onto Barlow Road, the car
stalled, ofcourse, but I was happy to see there was only one approaching
auto. This happiness was short-lived when it drew abreast ofme and I
heard shots of ((Get the fascist pig!!!" My car wouldn't start, the doors
wouldn't lock, and my heart skipped a beat until I heard the shouts turn
to laughter and I recognized the car as being packed with rugbyplayers
playing a joke on their moderator (me). After a change ofunderwear I
began to appreciate both the humorofthe situation and how tense things
had become.
20
Attention focused on the University Council as the most viable organ
to keep the University operating and to resolve the impasse. Founded in
December 1968, the Council represented a concrete example oftripartism
(albeit advisory) in action. Composed of four representatives each from
~1
the administration, the faculty, and the student body, with the chair
rotating monthly among them, the Council had been gaining respect and
experience for over a year at this juncture. By happenstance the chair at
this point was occupied by Professor King Dykeman. The other faculty
representatives were ProfessorsJames Farnham, Harry Fishman and Paul
Davis. Representing the administration were ProvostJohn Barone, Dean
William Schimpf, Assistant Dean Vincent Murphy, and financial vice
presidentJohn Hickson. The student representatives included at various
times Gregory Kielty, Dennis Donovan, Terence Horan,John Harrington,
and Kevin McAuliffe. Ultimately this group, expanded at times and with
much input from all segments of the community, would have to grapple
with the problems and recommend a solution to the individual sectors.
Several times it seemed that a compromise had been reached only to be
aborted by a stiffening of student attitude but ultimately a five-point plan
was worked out:
1. A neutral fact-finding commission would be formed to
investigate the charges leveled against the president.
2. Fr. McInnes would actively solicit a motion to allow six
students, six faculty, and two alumni to sit on the Board of
Trustees.
3. Representatives from the student body and faculty would sit
on the Administration Board.
4. The work ofthe constitutional convention would be endorsed
by President McInnes and Gallagher.
5. The Dean ~ould allow provision for students who missed
classes or tests duririg the strike.
This agreement was endorsed by the administration, accepted by the
faculty by a roughly 80 to 30 vote (with the addition of the soon-to-be
famous Cox amendment that "should there not be prompt and effective
action taken the faculty would take whatever steps it deems necessary to
implement the recommendation"); by the student legislature by a vote
of 42-2, and finally by a student referendum vote of 850 to 230 (out of
\ '
1,800).
21
A two-day moratorium was declared to clear the air and a general
feeling of euphoria heralded the resumption of full operation on May 1
- euphoria because the University had remained open under the most
stressful conditions and by the display of forbearance on the part of the
majority of members of all sectors of the University, there did appear to
be a bedrock of cooperation and common cause upon which to build
some kind of united structure (perhaps tripartite in nature) in the future.
Fr. McInnes, though, issued a note of caution in his May 12 letter to
parents:
"The strike was a serious affair that developed almost
overnight. ... (It) caused a major distraction from the academic
concentration of the community, created great confusion among
many students, and left serious tension which must yet be
resolved."
Ironically, on the very day this letter was issued, a new and more
severe menace had emerged, this time more directly involved with
national events. On May 4, National Guard members shot and killed four
students at Kent State in Ohio sending reverberations on campuses
throughout the nation. In recognition of the pain felt by the students and
all advocates of peace in Viet Nam, Fairfield cancelled classes for Friday,
May 8. A disappointingly small number of students attended memorial
services that day but over the weekend frustration and anger built up on
the campus. This was further fueled by the failure of the Academic
Council and the Dean to act on a recommendation from the University
Council to institute a o/pe of pass/fail system which would enable more
students to go into the community to work for peace. At 10 p.m. on
Tuesday, May 12, the students "spontaneously" occupied Canisius Hall
and at 5:30 a.m. took over Xavier as well.
That night was the first I had been able to spend at home with my
family andI vividly rememberhowmuchI enjoyed thepleasure ofplaying
with the children) watching rv: andhaVingaBud- theAmerican dream
- when at almost midnightI got the callfrom Dean Schimpfto return to
campus. The students had taken over Canisius) which ofcourse meant
both administrative offices and classrooms were occupied) and there
would be an emergency meeting ofthe University Council.
22
Grndgingly and somewhat groggily) I arrived at the meeting in the
Campus Centeron a campus thatseemedparticularlysinistersince all the
street andpath lights had been turned off. Gradually it became clear that
the takeover was not an official action of the student government but
rather had been effected by two groups ofstudents- a fairly large group
(probably close to 150- though only about halfthat number were in the
bUilding at anyone time) who were in varying degrees dissatiified with
the way things wereprogressing atFairfield orin the country at large)' and
a much smallerfaction) the hard-core SDS We discussed the situationfor
severalhours beforewewereapproached byemissariesfrom the occupying
students to send a delegation to meet with them in Canisius.
The Council decided to send Fr. Coughlin and Dr. Baronefrom the
administration) Dennis Gallagher from the student secto~ and myself
from the faculty) to hear what the demands might be. We were escorted
across the darkened campus) up the steps beside Canisius) and entered at
the indulgence oftheguardsposted there through the side door nearest the
Presidents office. Inside there was plenty of light and some rather
surprising activity. Dozens ofgirls hadsomehow materializedandadded
to a rather festive atmosphere that was heightened by a thick haze of
marijuana smoke.
We were ushered down the corridorand into a classroom on the side
ofthe bUildingfacing toward Gonzaga. Immediately) it became apparent
that the students were split into two inimicalgroups. While we weregiven
seats by the blackboard (even in revolution some semblance ofthe ancien
regime remained)) onegroup ofstudents sat together facing us andfilling
the left side ofthe room) while on the right (rather inappropriately) was the
tight little band ofthe SDS which the leaders kept nervously counting and
recounting (one through eleven) as ifafraid that some non-initiate might
pollute their number.
For thefirst time) I experienced a slight thrill offear as I recalled that
on other campuses some administrators and faculty were being held
hostage. Nervously) I looked overat the louvered ventilating windows that
bracketed the large windows of the room and wondered if the rather
generousfigures ofBarone) Coughlin) and myselfcouldslip through them
in case ofa lock-in.
Fortunately that crisis did not arise, for after an hour and a halfof
frnitless discussion in which the polarity ofthe studentpositions - from
23
the genuine desirefor academic reform to total anarchism - was amply
demonstrated our meeting broke up and we were escorted back out ofthe
bUilding.
Asweapproachedthe exitdoor, oneofmystudentscameup to meand
inquired ifthe Revolution of1848would be on the next written quiz. I was
immediately strnck with the realization thatfor many ofthe ((strikers)) the
whole episode was a lark)· a welcome disrnption in the normally drab
routine ofacademe. Only later did it dawn on me how unconsciously a
propos the question was) what strong similarities there were between the
two eras.
The situation now, of course, was very critical. With classrooms and
faculty and administration offices inaccessible the activities of the
University were perforce halted. As Fr. McInnes stated on Wednesday:
"While one might understand the anger of students over a
foreign war, that fact offers no excuse for a minority of students
to wage unilaterally their own war against the university. Nor do
they have any excuse for trampling down the rights of those who
want to attend class and to teach. By introducing physical force
on to the campus they have betrayed all possibility of a civilized
community.
"We are perfectly willing to hear all grievances of any group
and answer them definitively within 24 hours - but only on
condition that the buildings are not being forcibly occupied at the
time. This is in accordance with a policy approved by the Tri­Partite
Council in February precisely for occasions such as this."
At the University Council meeting that morning, he further pointed
out that the actions of the undergraduate students had also forced the
cancellation of classes normally held by Fairfield Prep in Xavier and the
Graduate School of Education in Canisius. He also reported that he felt
that he had only two alternatives left: closing down the University until
order was restored or instituting legal action against the disruption.
At a seven-hour, closed marathon meeting which began at 11 a.m.,
the faculty hammered out a corl1plicated set of recommendations
regarding grading policy which would restrict pass/fail to seniors but
provide several alternatives on an ad hoc basis for other students (these
24
formed the basis for a policy statement issued by Dean Coughlin later in
the evening). It also endorsed Fr. McInnes' employment of either of the
alternatives he had expressed earlier in the day with the preference given
to legal action.
On Thursday morning an expanded University Council (doubled in
size) met to face the increasingly p~larized situation. Students were very
visible on the roof and in the windows, guaranteed to elate or antagonize
the onlooker. Language was more intemperate. Both Gallagher and
McInnes addressed the Council, the former stating that the building
takeovers were not official government action but were "unfortunate but
justified"; while the latter reported that at an executive session the Board
of Trustees had advocated the invocation of outside means as stipulated
in the February University Council report, including possible expulsion
of ~he occupiers. He then left the meeting, leaving the impression with
the Council that he would not call for the show-cause order until it was
informed. The majority of the Council were in favor of postponing this
ultimate action while negotiations were still progressing. In fact, Profes­sors
Lisa Perkins, Victor Newton, and Edward Harms were in Canisius
attempting to work out a solution at that very moment. However, the
administration had proceeded with the show-cause order and about
three o'clock a vehicle from the sheriff's office arrived on campus. Shortly
thereafter Dean Coughlin came to Canisius and informed the students
through a side window of the legal consequences they faced. Some of
the faculty, feeling the administration had acted precipitously, had joined
the students in protest while_others entered the buildings to encourage
the students to vacate. At 6p.m., two deputies read the court order to the
occupants of both buildings. At seven the students voted to leave the
buildings and sent a delegation to Fr. McInnes requesting amnesty from
legal and disciplinary action for those who had participated in the
disruption.
The physical occupation was over but its effects were many. Some
faculty offices had been "liberated" (revolutionese for trashed) and other
damage had been done - surprisingly little considering the number of
people milling through the buildings. Opponents of the tripartite concept
drew fresh ammunition from the disruption and the Board of Trustees
refused to consider any inclusion of faculty and students on their body
until the present crisis had passed and they shunted the whole gover-
25
nance structure to an ad hoc committee which ultimately dismissed the
whole tripartite concept as "beautiful but unsuited to Fairfield."
The Board of Trustees, however, was adamant that a hard-line
approach be taken toward the individuals involved in the takeover. As
the Faiifield Record reported:
"From the discussion, the consensus evolved that the
violation of individuals' rights was a serious matter which could
not be minimized and that students must be held accountable for
their action. For this reason the board rejected the concept of
general amnesty.
RealiZing the complexity of the issue and the varying
degrees of involvement on the part of individuals, the trustees
adjudged that the matter would be best dealt with through the
normal procedures of the university's judicial system. They
recognized that this action would be an extensive process but did
not attempt to determine what sanctions should be taken, how
they should be applied nor individuals to whom they should be
applied.
They then passed a motion stating that the board sees the
seizure of buildings as serious, rejects general disciplinary
amnesty and asks for disciplinary action consistent with the
seriousness of the violation according to established proce­dures."
Ultimately all the cases were referred to the Disciplinary Board which
had been founded the previous semester and consisted of three faculty
and three students with the Associate Dean of Students as non-visiting
facilitator. The original membership was Professor Salvatore Carrano,
Edward Heinze, and Paul Davis (who was elected Chair); and Joseph
Coyne, Arthur Gallagher and Dennis Gallagher. The faculty membership
remained the same when the disruption cases were brought before it.
The Review Board found a number of particular difficulties in
attempting to adjudicate these cases. The charges against each defendant
were identicalso that even though we knew who the leaders were we could
not use that knowledge in hearing the cases. In many cases involVing
seniors we would not be able to assess anypenalties because they would
26
havegraduated by the time the hearings were concludedand ifthey could
not bepunished it would be unjust to chastise underclassmenfor thesame
offense. As a result the hearings were rather pro forma and resulted in
mere admonishmentsfor the mostpart.
The Constitutional Convention continued to meet in the summer and
fall of 1970 and on April 28, 1971 finally adopted a document with the
following preamble which nobly expresses the sentiments ofthose who
worked so tirelessly on it:
FAI~IELD UNIVERSITY
CONSTITUTION FOR UNIVERSITY GOVERNANCE
(Procedent to Constitutional Conventions, extending from
Fall 1969 to Spring 1971, and subject to sectoral ratification and
approval of Trustees)
PREAMBLE
Fairfield University, an institution founded in the Christian
tradition, is dedicated to personal, religious and academic
freedom. It exists as an academic institution and community for
the transmission of knowledge, the pursuit of truth, the develop­ment
of the individual, and the general well-being of society. We,
the members of the University Community, unite in affirming that
free inquiry and free expression are indispensable to the attain­ment
ofthese goals". We further recognize and affirm that freedom
to teach and freedom to learn are inseparable facets of acadeluic
freedom. All members of the academic community of Fairfield
University, therefore, share the responsibility to secure and to
respect this freedom and its unity. Since we have a duty to
develop policies and procedures which provide and safeguard
academic freedom, we recognize and adopt the following
principles for University governance:
1. Members of the University Community enjoy equal natural
and legal rights and"are bound to respect the rights ofothers.
II. All members of the cOlumunity have other
responsibilities and rights based upon the nature of the
educational process and the requirements of the search for
truth and its free presentation.
27
III. The University and its subdivisions have rights and
responsibilities of their own.
IV. All members of the University Community have a right to fair
and equitable judicial procedures.
This was adopted by a vote of 25-1 with ten abstentions. It is
significant that the one nay vote and six of the abstentions were faculty
members (the other four abstentions were from the administration) for
this presaged its rejection by the general faculty and subsequently by the
administration in the fall of 1971. When the FUSA president at the time
of the rejection called for another strike, he got little support and had to
content himself with a rather bitter letter in the 1972 Manor.
Tripartite governance, the rallying cry for so many reformers,
dreamers, and cynics alike, was not achieved but Fairfield would never
be the same again. The legacy of paternalism had been abandoned and
all three sectors of the University had been forced to the realization that
they could not operate independently ofthe other two. In the future there
would be real efforts toward consensus and particularly at improving
communications within the University community.
During this period of turmoil great strides were being made in
achieving real progress at Fairfield. New dormitories - Southeast (now
Kostka) and Far East (now Claver) increased housing capacity just as
female undergraduate students made their appearance in the fall of 1970.
As late as 1967, the male students, possibly fearing the academic
competition, had rejected the idea of coeducation while both adminis­tration
and faculty had strongly favored it. By 1979 the percentage of
female students would rise from an initial 11.1 percent to a majority of
51.9 percent and both faculty and administration would see a concomi­tant
increase in female members and leadership.
The curriculum was revised to reflect the changing n~eds and desires
of the student body and the faculty was expanded to implement it. The
new schools of nursing and communication and the Center for Lifetime
Learning broadened the diversification and the opening of the Campus
Center in 1966 provided a focal point for a multitude of projects. To the
surprise of many, the Center won an architectural award though the
meaning of its exterior decoration remains a mystery to most.
r
28
The athletic program continued to grow and gain respect from more
established powers. The basketball team remained the most visible of
Stag programs and was building after the arrival of coach Fred Barakat
toward the National Invitation Tournament bids that would soon follow.
One of its members in this period, Pete Gillen, would go on to become
one of the finest coaches in the nation and lead a fellow Jesuit university,
Xavier of Ohio, to great glory. The baseball team, too, was achieving solid
success. Hockey and club football were added to the program and in the
fall of 1968 the dedication of Grauert Field gave the rugby team the first
facility created directly for rugby on a college campus in the United States.
The Glee Club grew steadily in popularity and audience appeal
while the offerings in the Playhouse such as Stop the World, I Want to Get
Off, and Philadelphia, Here I Come reached new heights of profession­alism.
The student volunteer work in Appalachia drew the attention of
President Nixon himself. In a letter to Fr. McInnes he stated that:
"Your students by their enterprise and imagination have set
a splendid example of personal involvement in the accomplish­ment
of our national goals."
But as Fairfield grew in numbers it was ineVitable, too, that death
would sadden the community. Particularly hard hit was the basketball
team which suffered the tragic accidental deaths of Pat Burke, Jerry
Lademan and Kenneth Phelan. Expecially poignant was the drowning of
Lt. William Koscher '67 while he was attempting to save the life of one
of his men on maneuvers. All these men are commemorated in annual
University awards.
The final pe\iod ofthe McInnes era which ended onJanuary 21, 1973
when he left Fairfield to become President of the University of San
Francisco was relatively tranquil. How swiftly the student mood had
changed is attested to by the boos that Jane Fonda received when she
spoke on campus in the fall of 1970. In 1976, William C. McInnes returned
to the Fairfield campus to receive an honorary degree conferred, in the
words of the citation, for his '~energy of faith," "courage," and "poise" in
fulfilling his ministry.
When the students dedicated the Manor to him in 1968, they had
termed that ministry, then near its mid-point, controversial. Joseph
29
Preville in 1985 asserted that "amongst admiring administrators and
faculty members, university history is divided into two periods - 'P.M.'
(Pre-McInnes) and 'A.M.' (After-McInnes)." Both evaluations are valid. Fr.
McInnes had been controversial because he was fated to be the midwife
in the transformation of Fairfield from a parochial, self-contained
i~stitution, which the New York Times described (in a memorable but
galling way) as a "10-building campus located in a sunken valley
surrounded by an immense parking lot," into a significant partner in the
mainstream of American academe. With his business background he
introduced techniques which led one faculty member to describe him as
the "man in the grey flannel cassock" yet he maintained his priestly
character and could often be found celebrating the student Masses in
Loyola chapel. His tenure had seen the doubling of the physical plant,
of the faculty, and of the student body. He had presided over the total
transformation of the governance structure and a vibrant reassessment
and diversification of its academic programs. With patience and tolerance
he had endured attacks from within and without the Fairfield community
and helped to set it on the course it follows to this day. William C. McInnes
had come to a college in 1964; he left a University in 1973.
Paul1. Davis has been a memberofthe historydepartmentatFaiifield
since 1963. His involvement in the dramatic moments of the campus
revolution is suggested in the narrative. In 1969, students dedicated the
Manor to him.
30