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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
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Title | Chronicles of Fairfield University (1942 - 1992). Book 3: Turmoil and Triumph: The McInnes Years. |
Author | Paul I. Davis |
Date | 1992 |
Description | The six Chronicles of Fairfield University were published in conjunction with the observance of the 50th Anniversary of the founding of Fairfield University and Fairfield College Preparatory School. The six books included in the Chronicles of Fairfield University are as follows: Book One: The Founding Years; Book Two: An Era of Steady Growth and Change; Book Three: Turmoil and Triumph: the McInnes Years; Book Four: Building Years: Change and Development; Book Five: Lore and Legends; Book Six: Ignatian Character. |
Notes | Numerals are used in the title field contrary to the printed title (ex: Book 2 versus Book Two) so the books will appear in chronological order in the initial display. |
Type of Document | Pamphlet |
Original Format | Staple binding; black and white; ill; 5 1/2 in. x 8 1/2 in. |
Digital Specifications | These images exist as archived high resolution TIFFs and JPEGs and one or more PDF versions for general use. They were scanned at 600 dpi from the original using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. |
Date Digital | 2009 |
Publisher | Fairfield University |
Place of Publication | Fairfield, Conn. |
Source | Fairfield University Archives and Special Collections |
Copyright Information | Fairfield University reserves all rights to this resource which is provided here for educational and/or non-commercial purposes only. |
Identifier | CHRbk3 |
SearchData | 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 |
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