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With characteristic modesty, Chemist Conant last autumn dispensed with the pomp & ceremony of a traditional Harvard inauguration, took office quietly and quickly before a few officials in the Faculty Room. In last week's report, first public statement of his presidential philosophy, he left no doubt of his mind and purpose. James Bryant Conant is in love with the search for knowledge. He believes that Harvard's mission is to lead that search. He is sure that Harvard can accomplish that mission only by securing abler men.
Wrote he: "According to the account written nearly 300 years ago, Harvard was founded 'to advance learning and perpetuate it to posterity.' ... In the last analysis, it is only by advancing learning that it is possible to perpetuate it. When knowledge ceases to expand and develop it becomes devitalized, degraded, and a matter of little importance to the community. ... A zest for intellectual adventure should be the characteristic of every university."
Under James Conant, Harvard is on a manhunt and intends to have the best, whether they have sprung from Boston's
Back Bay or Bulltown, W. Va. "Harvard must endeavor to draw to its staff the most able investigators and teachers in the world. . . . What they accomplish and those whom they inspire will be the measure of our success."
Four baits has a university for luring talent to its faculty: 1) prestige, 2) plant & equipment, 3) salaries, 4) academic life. Harvard's prestige, though rivaled, is still mighty. Its plant & equipment are superb. Its salaries, which have not been cut in Depression, rank with the best. But: "Academic life in Cambridge must be made more attractive in a number of ways."
To make academic life at Cambridge more attractive President Conant last week called attention to the problem of faculty housing. He would make masters as comfortable as their luxuriously-housed pupils. Said he: "It is no longer as pleasant or easy to live in Cambridge as in many other university communities." A placid suburb 25 years ago, Cambridge is now a bustling city of 125,000, circling the university in a tight-clenched grip. Pleasant residences have steadily grown scarcer, more expensive.
Higher than physical comfort the scholar holds adequate time for research. To classroom duties which distract him at every university, Harvard adds tutorial work. Tugged three ways at once, the scholar finds himself spread thin. President Conant would ease the classroom strain.
President Conant knows how to use money to please other scholars. For the scientist: special laboratory equipment. For the historian: books, manuscripts. For the economist: secretarial aid. And every scholar yearns to see his precious but non-commercial findings in print. With such satisfactions would President Conant lure the world's best scholars to his Cambridge fold.