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By an act of 1636, the Great and General Court of Massachusetts has "full power and authority" to "dispose, order, and manage" the "college at Cambridge" to insure fulfillment of its duty to dispense "piety, morality, and learning."
Today Massachusetts legislators think that Harvard's attitude toward leftist tendencies among its students and teachers is lax, its tax status is as it should be, and its admissions policy is fair, a CRIMSON poll of the Commonwealth's lawmakers indicates.
Since colonial times the General Court's attempts to enact legislation which would interfere with Harvard affairs have been sporadic at best. But when the legislature has tried to mold to its own standards Harvard's brand of "piety, morality, and learning," University officers have usually protested vehemently. Mostly they succeeded in staving off restrictive action on the part of the legislators.
Asking to be let alone has been the dominant theme in the University's recent relations with the Massachusetts Legislature. Like a growing child, Harvard craved progressively more independence of its parents as it developed physically and economically.
To see how the parent felt, the CRIMSON this spring asked each senator and representative of the Massachusetts Legislature 15 questions about the University. Most of the inquiries dealt with academic freedom, taxes, and admissions--matters about which the legislature has recently been particularly concerned, not only in connection with Harvard but all the state's schools and colleges.
The questions were based largely on sentiments expressed by various legislators on two education bills that same before the General Court in the spring of 1949. The first, House Bill 442 or the "Sullivan Bill," was designed to "prevent the teaching of atheistic communism and safeguard the ideals of American Education." To do this, the author, Ralph W. Sullivan of Boston, urged that any institution found by the Commissioner of Education to harbor communists on its faculty be deprived of its tax exempt status. His bill was defeated after several changes in form, but others like it have since been dropped in the General Court hopper.
The second bill, the Fair Education Practices Act, empowered the State Board of Education to issue cease and desist orders to any school or college found guilty of discriminating unfairly in admissions on grounds of race, religion, or nationality.
Hotbed of Communism
At the hearing of the Sullivan Bill, Harvard of all the colleges in the Commonwealth was singled out for special attack. Testimony of six witnesses and commentary from the legislators on the Education Committee combined to give the impression that the University was a hotbed of communism and revolutionary thought.
During the hearing on the Fair Education Practices, several witnesses and legislators demonstrated by their comments that they thought Harvard was perhaps guilty of unfair discrimination and certainly not sufficiently partial to students from Massachusetts.
Results from the CRIMSON's questionnaire showed, however, that the majority of the 66 lawmakers who answered the questions had resigned itself to letting its offspring lead its own life. In fact, the legislators were proud of their creation. Those who thought the successful child was a disgrace to the family constituted a minority. The minority, though, was large--around 40 percent of the legislature's personnel--and it was vocal.
The first questions on the CRIMSON's poll dealt with the control of leftist sympathies at Harvard. This particularly concerned the legislature at the time of the Sullivan Bill hearing because Harlow Shapley, Paine Professor of Practical Astronomy, was simultaneously acting as chairman of the allegedly Russian inspired Cultural and Scientific Conference for World Peace and Daniel Boone Schirmer, a confessed Communist testifying against the bill, turned out to be a Harvard graduate.
Responses to the questions on academic freedom were as follows: The next questions dealt with Harvard's tax free status. Some legislators claimed that since the University's tax exemption constituted a huge loss of revenue for the state, the Commonwealth had every right to either more control over Harvard or more taxes from it. University officials could counter that Harvard, its intellectual contribution aside, more than made up for the taxes it didn't pay through the commerce its purchasers and students provided for Massachusetts businessmen. The lawmakers answered the poll as follows: A third set of questions asked for the legislators' opinions on the University's admissions policy. The three following questions had to do with how much the legislators thought the University benefited Massachusetts. Questionnaires, as any social relations man will hasten to say, tend to eliminate the subtleties of the issue involved. In order to give such subtleties some play the poll asked the legislators to comment on the problems brought up in the questions. Only 31 lawmakers elaborated on their basic "check one" answers to the poll. About a third of these pleaded that they lacked sufficient information to answer the questionnaire meaningfully. One representative commented that "the principles of academic freedom as expressed by Harvard University officials are a great contribution to searching for truth . . . any school which does not allow exploration of all subjects . . . does a disservice to its students." Hits Headline-Seekers Another wrote: "As a Harvard graduate, I am profoundly concerned about the irresponsible and headline seeking utterances of such professors as Shapely and Mother. Any such men bring justified criticism upon the University by their actions and words, rather than by their thinking. Will the authorities tolerate and wink at everything in the name of academic freedom and freedom of speech?" Along somewhat the same line of thought, a lawmaker wrote that he had seen many friends absorb extreme leftist sympathies at Harvard. This, he continued, "must be mainly due to the leftist sympathies of certain instructors." Except for one answer which suggested that Harvard by its historical, geographical, and economic position ought to cater more to Massachusetts natives, comments on the University admissions policy generally praised it as fair. One answer went so far as to label the Fair Education Practices Act a "vile insult to my own college." Several voiced doubts about the absolute absence of unfair discrimination in the Medical School, however. A legislator, considering the overall question of the poll. "What is Harvard's place in the Commonwealth so far as the General Court is concerned?" wrote that the University's lack of influence in the legislative and official life of this state should spur its students and faculty to careful introspection. An assent to this view was more specific. It suggested that Harvard make available its faculty for adult education programs and that the Business School broaden the sort of men its teaches. Few, as the percentages of the poll showed, felt the University's tax status should be changed, though the comment on on questionnaire recommended that profits from property which Harvard leases to private business should be taxable. Many when they answered the question about Harvard's contributions to the Commonwealth noted that they considered the University's contributions adequate but by no means so great as they could be. Several of the General Court members, obviously mortified by the University's dismal athletic performances of late took advantage of the poll to slip in plugs for a more "positive" attitude toward athletics at Harvard. Since not one questionnaire return recommended a general tightening of state control over the University it seems safe to predict that barring an enormous increase of the already unpleasant political tensions, the Harvard-State House relationship will remain the one tradition since 1865 of the successful and clever off-spring every so often called before the family council. Before 1865, the College was considerably less independent than it has been since, and the state archives are full of pamphlets in which Harvard was trying to assert itself. Probably the first General Court-Harvard tiff occurred in 1659 when the legislature stopped a proposed College printing of Thomas a Kempis' "Imitations of Christ," a book which the lawmakers considered "unsafe to be infused among the people." Forty years later the legislators ordered a religious test of Harvard faculty and students but the Governor, Lord Bellomont, vetoed the scheme. In 1831, F. C. Gray of the President and Fellows heard enough "alarming talk" at the State House to write Governor Levi Lincoln that, "The state, it is said, founded the College, and therefore has a right of visitation over it. But then who is the state? Surely not every person in it . . ." Strengthened State Control Nineteen years later the General Court charged that Harvard was "failing to answer the just expectations of the people of the state" and proceeded to design legislation which would put the college more closely under state control. This move caused enough consternation in Cambridge to induce the President and Fellows to send the legislature a lengthy "Memorial concerning the recent history and the Constitutional Rights and Privileges of Harvard College" in which they claimed "bestowing property . . . is to make and keep it private property." In 1865, ex-officio members of the Board of Overseers from the state government were abolished and the University, also flexing its muscles in other directions, took a long stride toward independence. One of the most flavorsome alterations between the University and somebody in the State House occurred June 1883, when the Board of Overseers voted 15 to 12 not to grant Governor Benjamin Butler an honorary degree because his character was not consistent with the motto "Verities." In so doing, the Board of Overseers had overruled the recommendations of President Eliot and the Corporation, who foresaw the unpleasant political implications of breaking the custom of giving the governor an honorary. Butler told the press that he thanked the Overseers for doing him a great personal and political favor but warned the University that such action risked stirring the legislative ire against Harvard. "The legislature can do with that institution what it wants," he said, "just as it can do with all others belonging to Massachusetts." I 1925, two representatives, Arthur F. Blanchard 04 and Van Ness H. Bates '19 introduced a bill for the thorough investigation of Harvard which they claimed was wholly under the thumb of big business interests. The bill died a quick death in committee. But for sheer size, press publicity, and raucousness no feud with the State House was ever fought quite like the controversy over the Teacher's Oath Bill in 1935. The sides were all the state's schools and colleges versus several lawmakers. During hearings on the Teacher's Oath issue in the summer of that year a letter was introduced by Elizabeth Dilling, the ace communist hunter of her day, which referred to President Conant as a gent "partial to Russians, highly tolerant of Communists, but with their enemies the German Nazis, is harsh and refuses them opportunity to speak at Harvard." Conant and a large number of other faculty members appeared personally at the Teacher's Oath hearing to object to what they considered a serious abrogation of their freedom. The most militant crusader against the Teacher's Oath in the state was Kirtley Mather. Not until December 12, 1935, several months after the Teacher's Oath Bill had passed did he sign a pledge and then he did so only at the request of President Conant. Had Mather not signed and still remained on the Harvard faculty, the University would have been involved in considerable litigation with the state. Paul A. Dever, who was then attorney-general, had ruled that any educational institution which didn't comply 100 percent with the oath law would have its charter revoked. (Several Law School professors pointed out at the time that Dever in his position as attorney-general was legally unable to issue such a judicial ruling.) Hearings on the Teachers Oath Law thus far had been at all times lively, to say the least. But it was the hearings for repeal which began in March, 1936 that were really characterized by the circus tempo associated with the Teacher's Oath controversy. The Boston Herald reported they "were probably the most noisy and colorful in State House history." Gaetano Salvemini, then Lauro de Bosis Lecturer on the History of Italian Civilization, could scarcely be heard at a session March 18 because of the uproar, part of which was in his support and most own which was against him because he was not as yet an American citizen. A long remembered incident from the hearings was the fierce, disrespectful cross examination of President Conant by a young representative, Frederick T. McDermott. When McDermott asked Conant pointed questions about the possible presence of communists in the Harvard faculty and Conant qualified his answers, McDermott angrily shouted, "Answer yes or no!" The principle object of McDermott's attack was J. Raymond Walsh, an instructor in Economics who had been active in labor relations work. This activity at the time made him suspect of communist leanings. A bill for repeal passed the General Court but was vetoed by Governor Hurley on the grounds that the era was not one for "withdrawing the authority of the state." Four successive attempts at repeal were made by educators and sympathetic citizens in the four successive years, but all failed. With the coming of war the issue became submerged. The next instance which sent college administrators running to the State House to protest a bill sponsored in 1947 by Republican Representatives Peter Lobel of Boston and Peter J. Jordan of Revere to take away the tax exemption of any college whose out of state enrollment should exceed 35 percent. Vice-President Reynolds, testifying at the time before the Education Committee, told it that the "bill, if in effect, would go far to destroy a major industry in Massachusetts . . . it would gravely damage the prestige of the Commonwealth as an educational center." Succeeding legislative proposals with which University officials became concerned include: the Barnes Bill, the Fair Education Practices Bill (the University opposed it because of the strain it might put on its office force), the Sullivan Bill, and several measures filed this year which deal with control of communist infiltration in teaching
The next questions dealt with Harvard's tax free status. Some legislators claimed that since the University's tax exemption constituted a huge loss of revenue for the state, the Commonwealth had every right to either more control over Harvard or more taxes from it.
University officials could counter that Harvard, its intellectual contribution aside, more than made up for the taxes it didn't pay through the commerce its purchasers and students provided for Massachusetts businessmen.
The lawmakers answered the poll as follows: A third set of questions asked for the legislators' opinions on the University's admissions policy. The three following questions had to do with how much the legislators thought the University benefited Massachusetts. Questionnaires, as any social relations man will hasten to say, tend to eliminate the subtleties of the issue involved. In order to give such subtleties some play the poll asked the legislators to comment on the problems brought up in the questions. Only 31 lawmakers elaborated on their basic "check one" answers to the poll. About a third of these pleaded that they lacked sufficient information to answer the questionnaire meaningfully. One representative commented that "the principles of academic freedom as expressed by Harvard University officials are a great contribution to searching for truth . . . any school which does not allow exploration of all subjects . . . does a disservice to its students." Hits Headline-Seekers Another wrote: "As a Harvard graduate, I am profoundly concerned about the irresponsible and headline seeking utterances of such professors as Shapely and Mother. Any such men bring justified criticism upon the University by their actions and words, rather than by their thinking. Will the authorities tolerate and wink at everything in the name of academic freedom and freedom of speech?" Along somewhat the same line of thought, a lawmaker wrote that he had seen many friends absorb extreme leftist sympathies at Harvard. This, he continued, "must be mainly due to the leftist sympathies of certain instructors." Except for one answer which suggested that Harvard by its historical, geographical, and economic position ought to cater more to Massachusetts natives, comments on the University admissions policy generally praised it as fair. One answer went so far as to label the Fair Education Practices Act a "vile insult to my own college." Several voiced doubts about the absolute absence of unfair discrimination in the Medical School, however. A legislator, considering the overall question of the poll. "What is Harvard's place in the Commonwealth so far as the General Court is concerned?" wrote that the University's lack of influence in the legislative and official life of this state should spur its students and faculty to careful introspection. An assent to this view was more specific. It suggested that Harvard make available its faculty for adult education programs and that the Business School broaden the sort of men its teaches. Few, as the percentages of the poll showed, felt the University's tax status should be changed, though the comment on on questionnaire recommended that profits from property which Harvard leases to private business should be taxable. Many when they answered the question about Harvard's contributions to the Commonwealth noted that they considered the University's contributions adequate but by no means so great as they could be. Several of the General Court members, obviously mortified by the University's dismal athletic performances of late took advantage of the poll to slip in plugs for a more "positive" attitude toward athletics at Harvard. Since not one questionnaire return recommended a general tightening of state control over the University it seems safe to predict that barring an enormous increase of the already unpleasant political tensions, the Harvard-State House relationship will remain the one tradition since 1865 of the successful and clever off-spring every so often called before the family council. Before 1865, the College was considerably less independent than it has been since, and the state archives are full of pamphlets in which Harvard was trying to assert itself. Probably the first General Court-Harvard tiff occurred in 1659 when the legislature stopped a proposed College printing of Thomas a Kempis' "Imitations of Christ," a book which the lawmakers considered "unsafe to be infused among the people." Forty years later the legislators ordered a religious test of Harvard faculty and students but the Governor, Lord Bellomont, vetoed the scheme. In 1831, F. C. Gray of the President and Fellows heard enough "alarming talk" at the State House to write Governor Levi Lincoln that, "The state, it is said, founded the College, and therefore has a right of visitation over it. But then who is the state? Surely not every person in it . . ." Strengthened State Control Nineteen years later the General Court charged that Harvard was "failing to answer the just expectations of the people of the state" and proceeded to design legislation which would put the college more closely under state control. This move caused enough consternation in Cambridge to induce the President and Fellows to send the legislature a lengthy "Memorial concerning the recent history and the Constitutional Rights and Privileges of Harvard College" in which they claimed "bestowing property . . . is to make and keep it private property." In 1865, ex-officio members of the Board of Overseers from the state government were abolished and the University, also flexing its muscles in other directions, took a long stride toward independence. One of the most flavorsome alterations between the University and somebody in the State House occurred June 1883, when the Board of Overseers voted 15 to 12 not to grant Governor Benjamin Butler an honorary degree because his character was not consistent with the motto "Verities." In so doing, the Board of Overseers had overruled the recommendations of President Eliot and the Corporation, who foresaw the unpleasant political implications of breaking the custom of giving the governor an honorary. Butler told the press that he thanked the Overseers for doing him a great personal and political favor but warned the University that such action risked stirring the legislative ire against Harvard. "The legislature can do with that institution what it wants," he said, "just as it can do with all others belonging to Massachusetts." I 1925, two representatives, Arthur F. Blanchard 04 and Van Ness H. Bates '19 introduced a bill for the thorough investigation of Harvard which they claimed was wholly under the thumb of big business interests. The bill died a quick death in committee. But for sheer size, press publicity, and raucousness no feud with the State House was ever fought quite like the controversy over the Teacher's Oath Bill in 1935. The sides were all the state's schools and colleges versus several lawmakers. During hearings on the Teacher's Oath issue in the summer of that year a letter was introduced by Elizabeth Dilling, the ace communist hunter of her day, which referred to President Conant as a gent "partial to Russians, highly tolerant of Communists, but with their enemies the German Nazis, is harsh and refuses them opportunity to speak at Harvard." Conant and a large number of other faculty members appeared personally at the Teacher's Oath hearing to object to what they considered a serious abrogation of their freedom. The most militant crusader against the Teacher's Oath in the state was Kirtley Mather. Not until December 12, 1935, several months after the Teacher's Oath Bill had passed did he sign a pledge and then he did so only at the request of President Conant. Had Mather not signed and still remained on the Harvard faculty, the University would have been involved in considerable litigation with the state. Paul A. Dever, who was then attorney-general, had ruled that any educational institution which didn't comply 100 percent with the oath law would have its charter revoked. (Several Law School professors pointed out at the time that Dever in his position as attorney-general was legally unable to issue such a judicial ruling.) Hearings on the Teachers Oath Law thus far had been at all times lively, to say the least. But it was the hearings for repeal which began in March, 1936 that were really characterized by the circus tempo associated with the Teacher's Oath controversy. The Boston Herald reported they "were probably the most noisy and colorful in State House history." Gaetano Salvemini, then Lauro de Bosis Lecturer on the History of Italian Civilization, could scarcely be heard at a session March 18 because of the uproar, part of which was in his support and most own which was against him because he was not as yet an American citizen. A long remembered incident from the hearings was the fierce, disrespectful cross examination of President Conant by a young representative, Frederick T. McDermott. When McDermott asked Conant pointed questions about the possible presence of communists in the Harvard faculty and Conant qualified his answers, McDermott angrily shouted, "Answer yes or no!" The principle object of McDermott's attack was J. Raymond Walsh, an instructor in Economics who had been active in labor relations work. This activity at the time made him suspect of communist leanings. A bill for repeal passed the General Court but was vetoed by Governor Hurley on the grounds that the era was not one for "withdrawing the authority of the state." Four successive attempts at repeal were made by educators and sympathetic citizens in the four successive years, but all failed. With the coming of war the issue became submerged. The next instance which sent college administrators running to the State House to protest a bill sponsored in 1947 by Republican Representatives Peter Lobel of Boston and Peter J. Jordan of Revere to take away the tax exemption of any college whose out of state enrollment should exceed 35 percent. Vice-President Reynolds, testifying at the time before the Education Committee, told it that the "bill, if in effect, would go far to destroy a major industry in Massachusetts . . . it would gravely damage the prestige of the Commonwealth as an educational center." Succeeding legislative proposals with which University officials became concerned include: the Barnes Bill, the Fair Education Practices Bill (the University opposed it because of the strain it might put on its office force), the Sullivan Bill, and several measures filed this year which deal with control of communist infiltration in teaching
A third set of questions asked for the legislators' opinions on the University's admissions policy. The three following questions had to do with how much the legislators thought the University benefited Massachusetts. Questionnaires, as any social relations man will hasten to say, tend to eliminate the subtleties of the issue involved. In order to give such subtleties some play the poll asked the legislators to comment on the problems brought up in the questions. Only 31 lawmakers elaborated on their basic "check one" answers to the poll. About a third of these pleaded that they lacked sufficient information to answer the questionnaire meaningfully. One representative commented that "the principles of academic freedom as expressed by Harvard University officials are a great contribution to searching for truth . . . any school which does not allow exploration of all subjects . . . does a disservice to its students." Hits Headline-Seekers Another wrote: "As a Harvard graduate, I am profoundly concerned about the irresponsible and headline seeking utterances of such professors as Shapely and Mother. Any such men bring justified criticism upon the University by their actions and words, rather than by their thinking. Will the authorities tolerate and wink at everything in the name of academic freedom and freedom of speech?" Along somewhat the same line of thought, a lawmaker wrote that he had seen many friends absorb extreme leftist sympathies at Harvard. This, he continued, "must be mainly due to the leftist sympathies of certain instructors." Except for one answer which suggested that Harvard by its historical, geographical, and economic position ought to cater more to Massachusetts natives, comments on the University admissions policy generally praised it as fair. One answer went so far as to label the Fair Education Practices Act a "vile insult to my own college." Several voiced doubts about the absolute absence of unfair discrimination in the Medical School, however. A legislator, considering the overall question of the poll. "What is Harvard's place in the Commonwealth so far as the General Court is concerned?" wrote that the University's lack of influence in the legislative and official life of this state should spur its students and faculty to careful introspection. An assent to this view was more specific. It suggested that Harvard make available its faculty for adult education programs and that the Business School broaden the sort of men its teaches. Few, as the percentages of the poll showed, felt the University's tax status should be changed, though the comment on on questionnaire recommended that profits from property which Harvard leases to private business should be taxable. Many when they answered the question about Harvard's contributions to the Commonwealth noted that they considered the University's contributions adequate but by no means so great as they could be. Several of the General Court members, obviously mortified by the University's dismal athletic performances of late took advantage of the poll to slip in plugs for a more "positive" attitude toward athletics at Harvard. Since not one questionnaire return recommended a general tightening of state control over the University it seems safe to predict that barring an enormous increase of the already unpleasant political tensions, the Harvard-State House relationship will remain the one tradition since 1865 of the successful and clever off-spring every so often called before the family council. Before 1865, the College was considerably less independent than it has been since, and the state archives are full of pamphlets in which Harvard was trying to assert itself. Probably the first General Court-Harvard tiff occurred in 1659 when the legislature stopped a proposed College printing of Thomas a Kempis' "Imitations of Christ," a book which the lawmakers considered "unsafe to be infused among the people." Forty years later the legislators ordered a religious test of Harvard faculty and students but the Governor, Lord Bellomont, vetoed the scheme. In 1831, F. C. Gray of the President and Fellows heard enough "alarming talk" at the State House to write Governor Levi Lincoln that, "The state, it is said, founded the College, and therefore has a right of visitation over it. But then who is the state? Surely not every person in it . . ." Strengthened State Control Nineteen years later the General Court charged that Harvard was "failing to answer the just expectations of the people of the state" and proceeded to design legislation which would put the college more closely under state control. This move caused enough consternation in Cambridge to induce the President and Fellows to send the legislature a lengthy "Memorial concerning the recent history and the Constitutional Rights and Privileges of Harvard College" in which they claimed "bestowing property . . . is to make and keep it private property." In 1865, ex-officio members of the Board of Overseers from the state government were abolished and the University, also flexing its muscles in other directions, took a long stride toward independence. One of the most flavorsome alterations between the University and somebody in the State House occurred June 1883, when the Board of Overseers voted 15 to 12 not to grant Governor Benjamin Butler an honorary degree because his character was not consistent with the motto "Verities." In so doing, the Board of Overseers had overruled the recommendations of President Eliot and the Corporation, who foresaw the unpleasant political implications of breaking the custom of giving the governor an honorary. Butler told the press that he thanked the Overseers for doing him a great personal and political favor but warned the University that such action risked stirring the legislative ire against Harvard. "The legislature can do with that institution what it wants," he said, "just as it can do with all others belonging to Massachusetts." I 1925, two representatives, Arthur F. Blanchard 04 and Van Ness H. Bates '19 introduced a bill for the thorough investigation of Harvard which they claimed was wholly under the thumb of big business interests. The bill died a quick death in committee. But for sheer size, press publicity, and raucousness no feud with the State House was ever fought quite like the controversy over the Teacher's Oath Bill in 1935. The sides were all the state's schools and colleges versus several lawmakers. During hearings on the Teacher's Oath issue in the summer of that year a letter was introduced by Elizabeth Dilling, the ace communist hunter of her day, which referred to President Conant as a gent "partial to Russians, highly tolerant of Communists, but with their enemies the German Nazis, is harsh and refuses them opportunity to speak at Harvard." Conant and a large number of other faculty members appeared personally at the Teacher's Oath hearing to object to what they considered a serious abrogation of their freedom. The most militant crusader against the Teacher's Oath in the state was Kirtley Mather. Not until December 12, 1935, several months after the Teacher's Oath Bill had passed did he sign a pledge and then he did so only at the request of President Conant. Had Mather not signed and still remained on the Harvard faculty, the University would have been involved in considerable litigation with the state. Paul A. Dever, who was then attorney-general, had ruled that any educational institution which didn't comply 100 percent with the oath law would have its charter revoked. (Several Law School professors pointed out at the time that Dever in his position as attorney-general was legally unable to issue such a judicial ruling.) Hearings on the Teachers Oath Law thus far had been at all times lively, to say the least. But it was the hearings for repeal which began in March, 1936 that were really characterized by the circus tempo associated with the Teacher's Oath controversy. The Boston Herald reported they "were probably the most noisy and colorful in State House history." Gaetano Salvemini, then Lauro de Bosis Lecturer on the History of Italian Civilization, could scarcely be heard at a session March 18 because of the uproar, part of which was in his support and most own which was against him because he was not as yet an American citizen. A long remembered incident from the hearings was the fierce, disrespectful cross examination of President Conant by a young representative, Frederick T. McDermott. When McDermott asked Conant pointed questions about the possible presence of communists in the Harvard faculty and Conant qualified his answers, McDermott angrily shouted, "Answer yes or no!" The principle object of McDermott's attack was J. Raymond Walsh, an instructor in Economics who had been active in labor relations work. This activity at the time made him suspect of communist leanings. A bill for repeal passed the General Court but was vetoed by Governor Hurley on the grounds that the era was not one for "withdrawing the authority of the state." Four successive attempts at repeal were made by educators and sympathetic citizens in the four successive years, but all failed. With the coming of war the issue became submerged. The next instance which sent college administrators running to the State House to protest a bill sponsored in 1947 by Republican Representatives Peter Lobel of Boston and Peter J. Jordan of Revere to take away the tax exemption of any college whose out of state enrollment should exceed 35 percent. Vice-President Reynolds, testifying at the time before the Education Committee, told it that the "bill, if in effect, would go far to destroy a major industry in Massachusetts . . . it would gravely damage the prestige of the Commonwealth as an educational center." Succeeding legislative proposals with which University officials became concerned include: the Barnes Bill, the Fair Education Practices Bill (the University opposed it because of the strain it might put on its office force), the Sullivan Bill, and several measures filed this year which deal with control of communist infiltration in teaching
The three following questions had to do with how much the legislators thought the University benefited Massachusetts. Questionnaires, as any social relations man will hasten to say, tend to eliminate the subtleties of the issue involved. In order to give such subtleties some play the poll asked the legislators to comment on the problems brought up in the questions. Only 31 lawmakers elaborated on their basic "check one" answers to the poll. About a third of these pleaded that they lacked sufficient information to answer the questionnaire meaningfully. One representative commented that "the principles of academic freedom as expressed by Harvard University officials are a great contribution to searching for truth . . . any school which does not allow exploration of all subjects . . . does a disservice to its students." Hits Headline-Seekers Another wrote: "As a Harvard graduate, I am profoundly concerned about the irresponsible and headline seeking utterances of such professors as Shapely and Mother. Any such men bring justified criticism upon the University by their actions and words, rather than by their thinking. Will the authorities tolerate and wink at everything in the name of academic freedom and freedom of speech?" Along somewhat the same line of thought, a lawmaker wrote that he had seen many friends absorb extreme leftist sympathies at Harvard. This, he continued, "must be mainly due to the leftist sympathies of certain instructors." Except for one answer which suggested that Harvard by its historical, geographical, and economic position ought to cater more to Massachusetts natives, comments on the University admissions policy generally praised it as fair. One answer went so far as to label the Fair Education Practices Act a "vile insult to my own college." Several voiced doubts about the absolute absence of unfair discrimination in the Medical School, however. A legislator, considering the overall question of the poll. "What is Harvard's place in the Commonwealth so far as the General Court is concerned?" wrote that the University's lack of influence in the legislative and official life of this state should spur its students and faculty to careful introspection. An assent to this view was more specific. It suggested that Harvard make available its faculty for adult education programs and that the Business School broaden the sort of men its teaches. Few, as the percentages of the poll showed, felt the University's tax status should be changed, though the comment on on questionnaire recommended that profits from property which Harvard leases to private business should be taxable. Many when they answered the question about Harvard's contributions to the Commonwealth noted that they considered the University's contributions adequate but by no means so great as they could be. Several of the General Court members, obviously mortified by the University's dismal athletic performances of late took advantage of the poll to slip in plugs for a more "positive" attitude toward athletics at Harvard. Since not one questionnaire return recommended a general tightening of state control over the University it seems safe to predict that barring an enormous increase of the already unpleasant political tensions, the Harvard-State House relationship will remain the one tradition since 1865 of the successful and clever off-spring every so often called before the family council. Before 1865, the College was considerably less independent than it has been since, and the state archives are full of pamphlets in which Harvard was trying to assert itself. Probably the first General Court-Harvard tiff occurred in 1659 when the legislature stopped a proposed College printing of Thomas a Kempis' "Imitations of Christ," a book which the lawmakers considered "unsafe to be infused among the people." Forty years later the legislators ordered a religious test of Harvard faculty and students but the Governor, Lord Bellomont, vetoed the scheme. In 1831, F. C. Gray of the President and Fellows heard enough "alarming talk" at the State House to write Governor Levi Lincoln that, "The state, it is said, founded the College, and therefore has a right of visitation over it. But then who is the state? Surely not every person in it . . ." Strengthened State Control Nineteen years later the General Court charged that Harvard was "failing to answer the just expectations of the people of the state" and proceeded to design legislation which would put the college more closely under state control. This move caused enough consternation in Cambridge to induce the President and Fellows to send the legislature a lengthy "Memorial concerning the recent history and the Constitutional Rights and Privileges of Harvard College" in which they claimed "bestowing property . . . is to make and keep it private property." In 1865, ex-officio members of the Board of Overseers from the state government were abolished and the University, also flexing its muscles in other directions, took a long stride toward independence. One of the most flavorsome alterations between the University and somebody in the State House occurred June 1883, when the Board of Overseers voted 15 to 12 not to grant Governor Benjamin Butler an honorary degree because his character was not consistent with the motto "Verities." In so doing, the Board of Overseers had overruled the recommendations of President Eliot and the Corporation, who foresaw the unpleasant political implications of breaking the custom of giving the governor an honorary. Butler told the press that he thanked the Overseers for doing him a great personal and political favor but warned the University that such action risked stirring the legislative ire against Harvard. "The legislature can do with that institution what it wants," he said, "just as it can do with all others belonging to Massachusetts." I 1925, two representatives, Arthur F. Blanchard 04 and Van Ness H. Bates '19 introduced a bill for the thorough investigation of Harvard which they claimed was wholly under the thumb of big business interests. The bill died a quick death in committee. But for sheer size, press publicity, and raucousness no feud with the State House was ever fought quite like the controversy over the Teacher's Oath Bill in 1935. The sides were all the state's schools and colleges versus several lawmakers. During hearings on the Teacher's Oath issue in the summer of that year a letter was introduced by Elizabeth Dilling, the ace communist hunter of her day, which referred to President Conant as a gent "partial to Russians, highly tolerant of Communists, but with their enemies the German Nazis, is harsh and refuses them opportunity to speak at Harvard." Conant and a large number of other faculty members appeared personally at the Teacher's Oath hearing to object to what they considered a serious abrogation of their freedom. The most militant crusader against the Teacher's Oath in the state was Kirtley Mather. Not until December 12, 1935, several months after the Teacher's Oath Bill had passed did he sign a pledge and then he did so only at the request of President Conant. Had Mather not signed and still remained on the Harvard faculty, the University would have been involved in considerable litigation with the state. Paul A. Dever, who was then attorney-general, had ruled that any educational institution which didn't comply 100 percent with the oath law would have its charter revoked. (Several Law School professors pointed out at the time that Dever in his position as attorney-general was legally unable to issue such a judicial ruling.) Hearings on the Teachers Oath Law thus far had been at all times lively, to say the least. But it was the hearings for repeal which began in March, 1936 that were really characterized by the circus tempo associated with the Teacher's Oath controversy. The Boston Herald reported they "were probably the most noisy and colorful in State House history." Gaetano Salvemini, then Lauro de Bosis Lecturer on the History of Italian Civilization, could scarcely be heard at a session March 18 because of the uproar, part of which was in his support and most own which was against him because he was not as yet an American citizen. A long remembered incident from the hearings was the fierce, disrespectful cross examination of President Conant by a young representative, Frederick T. McDermott. When McDermott asked Conant pointed questions about the possible presence of communists in the Harvard faculty and Conant qualified his answers, McDermott angrily shouted, "Answer yes or no!" The principle object of McDermott's attack was J. Raymond Walsh, an instructor in Economics who had been active in labor relations work. This activity at the time made him suspect of communist leanings. A bill for repeal passed the General Court but was vetoed by Governor Hurley on the grounds that the era was not one for "withdrawing the authority of the state." Four successive attempts at repeal were made by educators and sympathetic citizens in the four successive years, but all failed. With the coming of war the issue became submerged. The next instance which sent college administrators running to the State House to protest a bill sponsored in 1947 by Republican Representatives Peter Lobel of Boston and Peter J. Jordan of Revere to take away the tax exemption of any college whose out of state enrollment should exceed 35 percent. Vice-President Reynolds, testifying at the time before the Education Committee, told it that the "bill, if in effect, would go far to destroy a major industry in Massachusetts . . . it would gravely damage the prestige of the Commonwealth as an educational center." Succeeding legislative proposals with which University officials became concerned include: the Barnes Bill, the Fair Education Practices Bill (the University opposed it because of the strain it might put on its office force), the Sullivan Bill, and several measures filed this year which deal with control of communist infiltration in teaching
Questionnaires, as any social relations man will hasten to say, tend to eliminate the subtleties of the issue involved. In order to give such subtleties some play the poll asked the legislators to comment on the problems brought up in the questions.
Only 31 lawmakers elaborated on their basic "check one" answers to the poll. About a third of these pleaded that they lacked sufficient information to answer the questionnaire meaningfully.
One representative commented that "the principles of academic freedom as expressed by Harvard University officials are a great contribution to searching for truth . . . any school which does not allow exploration of all subjects . . . does a disservice to its students."
Hits Headline-Seekers
Another wrote: "As a Harvard graduate, I am profoundly concerned about the irresponsible and headline seeking utterances of such professors as Shapely and Mother. Any such men bring justified criticism upon the University by their actions and words, rather than by their thinking. Will the authorities tolerate and wink at everything in the name of academic freedom and freedom of speech?" Along somewhat the same line of thought, a lawmaker wrote that he had seen many friends absorb extreme leftist sympathies at Harvard. This, he continued, "must be mainly due to the leftist sympathies of certain instructors."
Except for one answer which suggested that Harvard by its historical, geographical, and economic position ought to cater more to Massachusetts natives, comments on the University admissions policy generally praised it as fair. One answer went so far as to label the Fair Education Practices Act a "vile insult to my own college." Several voiced doubts about the absolute absence of unfair discrimination in the Medical School, however.
A legislator, considering the overall question of the poll. "What is Harvard's place in the Commonwealth so far as the General Court is concerned?" wrote that the University's lack of influence in the legislative and official life of this state should spur its students and faculty to careful introspection. An assent to this view was more specific. It suggested that Harvard make available its faculty for adult education programs and that the Business School broaden the sort of men its teaches.
Few, as the percentages of the poll showed, felt the University's tax status should be changed, though the comment on on questionnaire recommended that profits from property which Harvard leases to private business should be taxable.
Many when they answered the question about Harvard's contributions to the Commonwealth noted that they considered the University's contributions adequate but by no means so great as they could be.
Several of the General Court members, obviously mortified by the University's dismal athletic performances of late took advantage of the poll to slip in plugs for a more "positive" attitude toward athletics at Harvard.
Since not one questionnaire return recommended a general tightening of state control over the University it seems safe to predict that barring an enormous increase of the already unpleasant political tensions, the Harvard-State House relationship will remain the one tradition since 1865 of the successful and clever off-spring every so often called before the family council.
Before 1865, the College was considerably less independent than it has been since, and the state archives are full of pamphlets in which Harvard was trying to assert itself.
Probably the first General Court-Harvard tiff occurred in 1659 when the legislature stopped a proposed College printing of Thomas a Kempis' "Imitations of Christ," a book which the lawmakers considered "unsafe to be infused among the people." Forty years later the legislators ordered a religious test of Harvard faculty and students but the Governor, Lord Bellomont, vetoed the scheme.
In 1831, F. C. Gray of the President and Fellows heard enough "alarming talk" at the State House to write Governor Levi Lincoln that, "The state, it is said, founded the College, and therefore has a right of visitation over it. But then who is the state? Surely not every person in it . . ."
Strengthened State Control
Nineteen years later the General Court charged that Harvard was "failing to answer the just expectations of the people of the state" and proceeded to design legislation which would put the college more closely under state control. This move caused enough consternation in Cambridge to induce the President and Fellows to send the legislature a lengthy "Memorial concerning the recent history and the Constitutional Rights and Privileges of Harvard College" in which they claimed "bestowing property . . . is to make and keep it private property." In 1865, ex-officio members of the Board of Overseers from the state government were abolished and the University, also flexing its muscles in other directions, took a long stride toward independence.
One of the most flavorsome alterations between the University and somebody in the State House occurred June 1883, when the Board of Overseers voted 15 to 12 not to grant Governor Benjamin Butler an honorary degree because his character was not consistent with the motto "Verities." In so doing, the Board of Overseers had overruled the recommendations of President Eliot and the Corporation, who foresaw the unpleasant political implications of breaking the custom of giving the governor an honorary.
Butler told the press that he thanked the Overseers for doing him a great personal and political favor but warned the University that such action risked stirring the legislative ire against Harvard. "The legislature can do with that institution what it wants," he said, "just as it can do with all others belonging to Massachusetts."
I 1925, two representatives, Arthur F. Blanchard 04 and Van Ness H. Bates '19 introduced a bill for the thorough investigation of Harvard which they claimed was wholly under the thumb of big business interests. The bill died a quick death in committee.
But for sheer size, press publicity, and raucousness no feud with the State House was ever fought quite like the controversy over the Teacher's Oath Bill in 1935. The sides were all the state's schools and colleges versus several lawmakers. During hearings on the Teacher's Oath issue in the summer of that year a letter was introduced by Elizabeth Dilling, the ace communist hunter of her day, which referred to President Conant as a gent "partial to Russians, highly tolerant of Communists, but with their enemies the German Nazis, is harsh and refuses them opportunity to speak at Harvard." Conant and a large number of other faculty members appeared personally at the Teacher's Oath hearing to object to what they considered a serious abrogation of their freedom.
The most militant crusader against the Teacher's Oath in the state was Kirtley Mather. Not until December 12, 1935, several months after the Teacher's Oath Bill had passed did he sign a pledge and then he did so only at the request of President Conant. Had Mather not signed and still remained on the Harvard faculty, the University would have been involved in considerable litigation with the state. Paul A. Dever, who was then attorney-general, had ruled that any educational institution which didn't comply 100 percent with the oath law would have its charter revoked. (Several Law School professors pointed out at the time that Dever in his position as attorney-general was legally unable to issue such a judicial ruling.)
Hearings on the Teachers Oath Law thus far had been at all times lively, to say the least. But it was the hearings for repeal which began in March, 1936 that were really characterized by the circus tempo associated with the Teacher's Oath controversy. The Boston Herald reported they "were probably the most noisy and colorful in State House history." Gaetano Salvemini, then Lauro de Bosis Lecturer on the History of Italian Civilization, could scarcely be heard at a session March 18 because of the uproar, part of which was in his support and most own which was against him because he was not as yet an American citizen.
A long remembered incident from the hearings was the fierce, disrespectful cross examination of President Conant by a young representative, Frederick T. McDermott. When McDermott asked Conant pointed questions about the possible presence of communists in the Harvard faculty and Conant qualified his answers, McDermott angrily shouted, "Answer yes or no!"
The principle object of McDermott's attack was J. Raymond Walsh, an instructor in Economics who had been active in labor relations work. This activity at the time made him suspect of communist leanings. A bill for repeal passed the General Court but was vetoed by Governor Hurley on the grounds that the era was not one for "withdrawing the authority of the state."
Four successive attempts at repeal were made by educators and sympathetic citizens in the four successive years, but all failed. With the coming of war the issue became submerged.
The next instance which sent college administrators running to the State House to protest a bill sponsored in 1947 by Republican Representatives Peter Lobel of Boston and Peter J. Jordan of Revere to take away the tax exemption of any college whose out of state enrollment should exceed 35 percent.
Vice-President Reynolds, testifying at the time before the Education Committee, told it that the "bill, if in effect, would go far to destroy a major industry in Massachusetts . . . it would gravely damage the prestige of the Commonwealth as an educational center."
Succeeding legislative proposals with which University officials became concerned include: the Barnes Bill, the Fair Education Practices Bill (the University opposed it because of the strain it might put on its office force), the Sullivan Bill, and several measures filed this year which deal with control of communist infiltration in teaching
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