the
sundlay
daily
Number 19 Night Editor: Martin A. Hirschman
January 11, 1970
The Daiy diet of miseries from 1960 to
the present
71.
'LD NEWSPAPERS, crumbling and yel-
low in their bound volumes seem to
ution backward-looking readers that the
ntemporary vision of the past is a tran-
nt one.
Nevertheless, Life and Look have strewn
,udy pages with nearly forgotten magazine
d newspaper photos commemorating the
:ties. For it is'the somewhat self-conscious
sertion of writers and editors that news
blications really do serve the dual func-
n of information source and historical
cord.
A view of the campus of the sixties, then,
contained in The Michigan Dailies of the
cade. A constant if slanted chronicle, the
I Dailies are a curious reflection of the
mpus mood.
In the beginnint, in 1960, there was Tom
tyden. The leading radical spokesman,
w on trial for conspiracy with eight others
Chicago, was editor during .that year.
ien wearing a trim Princeton, Hayden was
charge of a newspaper in which frater-
ties and sports news predominated over
litical events so much so that a reader
mplained "fraternity tea parties should
kept on the inside." He shared column
ches with John Feldkamp, (now director
University housing, then president of
3C) who promoted Life Magazine in week-
advertisements. Hayden's cogent, but low
y editorials addressed issues still with us,
om a left-leaning, but generally moderate
rspectlve.
In 1960, he criticized the ROTC require-
ent at Michigan State University in the"
ce of, military men who insisted only com-
lsory ROTC could "keep the ranks filled,"
"If ROTC is to have any value," he edi-
rialized, "it must undertake a program
signed to promote understanding of the
ace of the nilitary in a democratic society
d in a world of many ideologies. It is not
ite enough to assume the student will
in such an understanding through the
her courses in the University."
He concluded that "someday" a re-eval-
,tion of ROTC would be made with a view
ward changing the content of the pro-
am. Luckily, he' didn't hold his breath
3:itng.
Undoubtedly Hayden, with his preoccu-
,tion with the budding student activism,
d1 not really get through to most students
1960. The headlines went to sororities
ororities should go intellectual or go off
mpus) and plans to .build a much need-
foot bridge across Forest Ave. from
mpus to the Hill (to be completed within
year).
But Hayden had followers. The Y o u n g
iends held the, University's first anti-
military ball in 1960 on the same night as
the ROTC,gala.
ALMOST everyone, meanwhile was in-
terested in the presidential election. And
The Daily favored Sen. Kennedy. Editorial
Director Philip Power characterized the Vice
President:
"Nixon on the basis of his record is to
many a vigorous, capable, well-informed
public servant. Others, more concerned with
real or imagined faults in his character, fear
him because he is able. They say Eisenhower
is merely incompetent, but that Nixon is an
active negative force for evil in the na-
tional political community."
Taking office after the election, Hayden
focused less on national issues than on the
nature of the University and student com-
munities.
His views on administrators - although
sometimes archaic - often foreshadow com-
ments abounding on the editorial pages
of the late 1960's. "The administrator of
this University comes dangerously close to
what Robert Maynard Hutchins calls on 'of-
fice holder' - a man with a title and a drab
function to perform. It is all too easy for
one to run through the daily routine and
feel an adequate, if not brilliant, job has
been done. And if one is enmeshed in paper
work, it is difficult to, notice the direction
in which a university is headingdie n
"The administrator must . . . make
straight the path to the 'end' for faculty
and students Even before this, he must
work deliberately to define and clarify that
end and perpetually keep it before that
teacher, student and citizen. He must be
almost obnoxious at times: he must ques-
tion the disgraces of his society; he must
insist that the faculty take a hard look at
what might no longer be useful in the pat-
tern of instruction; he must prod the
student out of the intellectual languer and
superfluous activities .. .
Although Hayden saw University admin-
istrators as potentially dynamic idea-men,
on the subject of the University's chief ex-
ecutive, he was terse: "Is the president in
reality only a fund raiser rather than an
intellectual leader, and if so, how should the
job of the president be defined."
THE STUDENT EDITOR even foresaw the
formation of the military-industrial-aca-
demic complex: "But at various stages of
its development the common aims must be
reconsidered. If this University moves in a
certain 'direction, for example, toward a
scientific orientation, as now seems to be
the case, it should be because we have con-
sidered our goals and decided that science
is the single most important contribution we
can make to civilization.
"However, it often seems that the Uni-
versity is moving toward science because it
exists in an industry-business-science ori-
ented state where the Legislature is un-
happy with heavy liberal arts curricula: If
such is the, case, and it seems to be, then
this University is being manned in terms
of the present social atmosphere."
The present social atmosphere was af-
fecting the University in some beneficial
ways, however.
In 1959, the University ceased to require
photographs of all applicants as a means
to curb discrimination. (Last year, Vice
President for Academic Affairs Allan Smith
suggested reinstituting the practice to
identify minority group students--this time
to see if the University really was admit-
ting enough of them.)
Wrote Hayden, "The objective of any
university would not seem to be the preser-
vation of the status quo. Rather it should
be the improvement of human conditions
and the clarification of human aims. If this
is the aim, then a university must try to
improve the environment in which it oper-
ates, rather' than preserve or sanctify it.
;Inevitably a university must engage in
criticism of existing practices If it is con-
servative, it ignores one of its finest func-
tions"
IN 1960, HOWEVER, a great deal of
student attention was directed not at the
directions of the universities, but rather at
those of society. The first march on local
merchants occurred in 1960 to protest dis-
crimination in hiring.
This started a string of protest marches
in Ann Arbor in the early 60's. In 1965, one
of the largest marches was held as over
600 students endured foul weather to pro-
test a price hike from $1 to $1.25 at local
movie theatres.
The Daily editorial by Ken Winter pro-
claimed:
"Various irate students have suggested
various ways to ease prices back down.
Among them:
-The classic method: have a riot;
-The Ghandian method: Boycott these
theatres until the price is reduced. Both of
these methods while quite satisfying and
possibly effective lack originality so subtler
techniques have been suggested;
-The getting your money's worth meth-
od: Stage a sit-in of sorts. Since the admis-
sion charge has been raised by 25 per cent,
movie patrons should increase correspond-
ingly the length of time they remain in the
theatre. There's a certain justice in the pro-
cedure: all patrons for the 7 o'clock show
would stay for the first quarter of the 9
o'clock show. Few potential 9 o'clock cus-
tomers of course would be willing to wait
around until 9:30, but that's show biz;
-The free 'enterprise method: Bring in
some competition. Given a rapidly explained
student boycott, it shouldn't be impossible
to attract some non-Butterfield chain thea-
tres to Ann Arbor."
Earlier another theatre question h a d
plagued the University: who should a n d
should not be allowed to speak on campus.
Although several Daily editors favored com-
plete freedom of speech on campus in1961,
another argued "We cannot allow the cry
of 'fire' to be shouted in our theatres if
there is a chance even a handful of mal-
contents might heed it." The editorialist ad-
mitted this might not be the best of all
possible worlds, but that it is better here
than elsewhere. Today his followers glue
"America-love it or leave it" stickers on
their bumpers.
MAINTAINING, the status quo and
squashing growing student radicalization
became a preoccupAtion of conservatives
who saw no future in the movement they
sensed was developing.
Wrote Gerald Storch in 1962:
"It seems that the leaders of the so-
called student movement have been getting
pretty frantic lately as it becomes more
and more evident that their movement is a
failure . . . This year's project of the move-
ment-picketing for peace-has completed
the cycle from intelligent protest to ludi-
crous action. These demonstrations, by stu-
dents who for some reason think they are
experts on peace and nuclear warfare, have
made universities in general and the move-
ment in particular look laughable with the
ineffective marches and naive and un-
workable plans for disarmament.
"Because it cannot succeed with a rational
appeal-most students couldn't care less,
and others refuse to acquiesce to an in-
tolerant framework-the student movement
has to depend on inspiring and charismatic
leaders. But the Haydens and Seasonweins
have gone from the campus movement, and
the leaders left behind possess a fraction of
their intensity.
"So the student movement is going to die
a slow but natural death. We should not
mourn its passing too heavily."
This cynicism surfaced in other editorials
in 1962, but there was also in that year a
genuine confusion displayed by writers sym-
pathetic to the student movement, but lack-
ing clear-cut preceptions of its direction.
Wrote David Marcus:
". ..Students have no role in the political
system of American society. They do not
even have the role, as in some South Ameri-
can countries of being the "pacesetters" of
political ideas among the masses. In short,
from a practical point of view, students are
incapable of influencing the major streams
of political thought and action . . . In a
society devoted to the politics of moderation,
radicalism cannot expect to be heard in
circles representing the status quo - -
"Students are double damned. If they par-
ticipate in politics, idealism of necessity goes
out the window. If they do not enter the
larger political sphere, they find that large
and vital areas of concern, such as the
BUT THE preoccupation of many stu-
dents as late as 1967 involved battles closer
to home: the effort to end parietal rules
governing student social life.
A major breakthrough came as women's
hours were lifted in 1967.
"Decisions should be made by the people
whom the decisions affect," wrote Urban
Lehner. "In the case of women's hours, the
women themselves are the only people af-
fected That their hours affects the Uni-
w ersity's "image" and hence the entire
University, as some faculty members have
argued, is absurd
"Freshman women should not allow the
intransigence of an out-of-date Board of
Governors to discourage them from exer-
cising the "primary" control over conduct
rules recommended by the Knauss Report."
The women demanded to have hours reg-
ulations abolished and they won.
But students confronting the multiver-
sity often had a less successful time coping
with bureaucratic red tape and the deper-
sonalized environment. Daily editor Roger
Rapoport suggested a formula for "bending
your IBM card" and getting away with it:
"There are those who argue that given
the conflicting interests of students, facul-
ty, administration and Regents, the big
University can never really work, Even if
some students can flourish in the environ-
ment, the major school itself is doomed.
"Many students who accept this argu-
ment have, ironically, fallen into their' own
trap. They have dropped their activist ef-
forts to rock the system and become totally
alienated. Since "school is hopeless," they
turn to rock 'n' roll bands, drugs, film-
making, bar-tending, postal work or other
pursuits. Instead of trying to change the
multiversity system, they end up joining the
passive ranks and giving the multiversity
'ogre' more room to perpetuate itself"
In 1967, the university began looking more
like an ogre to many students as The Daily,
in a lavish series, explored the volume and
type of classified research done at the Uni-
versity. However, in a referendum, students
voted to maintain such research at the Uni-
v ersity.
Then in 1968 the case against glassified re-
search was buried in a surge of anti-war
protests directed primarily against Lyndon
Johnson.
In 1967, Walter Schapiro proposed a for-
mula for wrestling control of the Democratic
political machine from the likes of John-
son by working for his deafeat in 1968.
Then reform elements could overwhelm a
party in dissarray:
"It is bitterly tragic that tite only comfort
to be found in presidential politics will be
a futile attempt by dedicated doves to
salve their liberal consciences by deserting
the Johnsonian coalition. But in America
closer to Dante's Inferno than Rebecca's
Sunnybrook Farm, one must take solace
even in such token victories as the defeat
of Lyndon Johnson."
THE DEFEAT of Lyndon Johnson did not
ensure the eventual triumph of liberal forc-
es. Quite the contrary, The Daily editorials
of 1968 and 1969 grew increasingly bitter
and disillusioned to the point where Univer-
sity Vice President Ross deplored the ted
ious "Daily diet of miseries."
Tom Hayden's prophecy for the student
of 1960 seemed too optimistic:
"The future of the 1960 American stu-
dent, therefore, is vague but exciting. He
stands on a peculiar threshhold built of the
sit-ins, sympathy picketing, demonstration
against ROTC, civil defense, the House Un-
America Activities Committee. He possesses
an attitude of idealistic humanitarianism,
but as yet no broad ideology. With his
humanitarianism and commitment to life-
long action, he can judge issue after issue
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future of the human race are outside their
scope. They must choose."
NOT ,SURPRISINGLY, many students de-
clined to make an immediate choice. They
continued their comfortable lives in the
quads:',
"The status of undress of the dinners is
appalling," wrote Michael Harrah. "Shirts
are often unbuttoned half-way to the wear-
er's naval; pants, tighter than the skin on a
peach, are usually dirty. They often don't
wear socks.
"Yet their sloveliness suggests an incredible
lack of breeding-a quality which, if they
have not overcome it by the time. they get
to Ann Arbor, the University should wring
out of them . . . And this responsibility the
University must pursue even if it means the
strictest type of discipline on record.
"Morality-the University is committed to
it. Perhaps it had better start enforcing it.
"The dining rooms would be a good place
to start."
If the dining rooms were a good place
for the conservatives to start crusades, the
war in Vietnam had presented itself as early
as 1962 as a cause to the more farsighted.
Rather timidly, an editorial recommended
that through "political maneuvers," popular
regimes may be encouraged in Southeast
Asia, and internal conflicts may be resolved
from within.
The Vietnam debate persisted in The
Daily and elsewhere throughout the decade.
As the American presence became more
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