UNIVERSITIES
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Nothing is quite so perennially promising in its greenery, so seemingly carefree in its end-of-the-year exuberance, so timelessly secure in its traditional commencement ceremonies as a college campus in June. Last week, as alumni gathered on campuses across the nation for reunions and beaming parents strolled shaded walks with newly graduated sons, proud leaders of academe pointed to glistening new science buildings and plushly modern dormitories, talked glowingly of new plans, programs, projects. But this appearance of comfortable affluence is largely deceptive. Behind the impressive fagades of most private universities and colleges there is a deep concern. They are in grave financial trouble, and many are searching frantically to close a dollar gap that threatens their very existence.
The cost crisis is not confined to the nation's marginal institutions of higher learning—the small, church-related liberal arts college, the genteel finishing school for girls. Even the giants of American education feel threatened. Despite Harvard's imposing $900 million endowment, Assistant Dean Arthur Trottenberg says that "we're worried to the point of reaching for the panic button." Columbia's president, Grayson Kirk, contends that "all our institutions face a financial problem of staggering magnitude and complexity." "Self-pity is a congenital disease of my profession," adds Yale's Kingman Brewster Jr., president of the nation's third oldest and second richest private university, "but it's almost impossible to exaggerate this problem." Yale, he says bluntly, "has never had a more difficult financial prospect—and a serious strain on resources for Yale is a crisis for other places."
Splashes of Red Ink. The warning splashes of red ink on university ledgers these days amply bear him out. This year, for the first time in 15 years, Harvard's Faculty of Arts and Sciences faces an operating deficit—of about $1,000,000. Rice, the best and richest private university in the Southwest, will have a deficit of more than $950,000 this year. Princeton President Robert Goheen worries about running into the red within three years; Stanford foresees a possible $2,000,000 shortage by 1969. Unless new sources of revenue are found, Yale will be faced with an annual operating deficit of more than $15 million by 1977.
Many private colleges have balanced their books only by curtailing necessary expenditures—and their presidents are beginning to worry about whether quality is being sacrificed as well. Vice President Franklin Kreml of Northwestern admits that his university's books balance, but then adds: "By God, we have problems—we're fighting for our lives. Our faculty is too thin. We have insufficient housing for students, insufficient student aid, too small a graduate program." California's prestigious Mills College cut back its administrative staff this year. Cornell's president, James Perkins, held his 1967 deficit to about $500,000, mainly by denying $2,500,000 requested by his deans for projects they considered crucial.
Backs to the Wall. For such schools as Yale and Harvard, the financial crisis is relative: what is involved is not survival but the maintenance of traditional excellence. For plenty of other colleges,