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A LOOK AT THE DARKEST
MOMENTS IN UNIVERSITY HISTORY
BY BRIAN TENGEL I Daily Staff Reporter

any of us like to imagine the University
asa beacon of progress.
We see it as a place where ideas
are expounded and values debated.
We envision an institution devoted to
the education and-advancement of its
students, a forum where diversity and
academic freedom reign.
We assume that whatever the Uni-
versity does - whether it's erecting
new facilities or imposing new rules
and codes - is intended to efficiently
and productively serve its community.
And when we fork over our tuition
dollars, even if we aren't under the
impression that the University is
an infallible bastion of progress, we
imagine that, at the very least, it's not
an impediment to it. Most of the-time,
it doesn't disappoint - but only most
of the time.
Over the course of its 190-year
history, there have been quite a few
instances where the University failed
to live up to its creed of liberty and
equality. The following are just a few
events that you probably won't hear
Campus Day leaders describing to pro-
spective freshmen and their parents.
BREACHES OF ACADEMIC FREEDOM
In the 1930s and '40s, campus was
teeming with political activity. Major
world events - the Great Depression,
the New Deal and World War II to
name a few - were fueling a national
debate in which students were active-
' ly engaged. Radical student groups
abounded. Controversial speakers
frequented campus. But while the stu-
dents were making good use of their
youthful exuberance and FirstAmend-
ment rights, it didn't mean administra-
tors were happy about it.
President Alexander Ruthven was
less than overjoyed.
In June 1935, Ruthven requested
that four students not return to the
University for the following academic
year. He declared that their "perver-
sive activities" were unacceptable and
obstructed the University's work.
In "The Making of The University
of Michigan 1817-1992," by LSA Prof.
Nicholas and Margaret Steneck, a
retired lecturer for LSA and the Resi-
dential College, some of Ruthven's
original statements about the dismiss-

als are downright alarming.
"Attendance at the University of
Michigan is a privilege and not a
right," Ruthven wrote in an annual
report from the fall of 1935. "In order
to safeguard its ideals of scholarship,
character, and personality the Univer-
sity reserves the right, and the student
concedes to the University the right, to
require withdrawal of any student at
any time for any reason deemed suf-
ficient to it."
In June 1940, Ruthven continued his
"purge" of students. He informed nine
more that they would not be readmit-
ted in the fall on charges of disrupting
the "University's work."
Clearly, by today's standards, the
idea that the University might strip you
of your constitutional rights in return
for the right to attend seems crass, but
even at the time it was shocking to
hear the president of a prestigious uni-
versity refer to freedom of the press
and freedom of speech as "sophistries"
in a commencement address.
High-handed dismissals were not
confined to the Ruthven administra-
tion, though. During President Harlan
Hatcher's tenure, the University Lec-
ture Committee in 1952 temporarily
prohibited two men, who were alleg-
edly affiliated with dissident orga-
nizations, from speaking on campus.
According-to an article in The Michi-
gan Daily on May 20, 1952, the com-
mittee was concerned the two might
promote overthrowing the govern-
ment.
Hatcher also ignited protest in May
1954 when he suspended three fac-
ulty members who had been ordered
to appear before the House Commit-
tee on Un-American Activities. The
faculty members were called to tes-
tify by Michigan Congressman Kit
Clardy, who wanted to investigate
their alleged ties to communist orga-
nizations. Hatcher dismissed two of
the members but only reprimanded
the third.
In September 1969, things got par-
ticularly ugly. University President
Robben Fleming, who had previously
dealt with student activism in a com-
posed manner, lost it.
Students were demanding the cre-
ation of a student-run bookstore on

campus, and they wouldn't take no for
an answer.
The University Board- of Regents
agreed to finance the venture, but it
refused to cede control of the store to
the students. In response, Students for
a Democratic Society, a radical activist
group, barricaded themselves inside
the LSA Building.
Six hundred students protested
inside, while 1,000 people showed
their supportby gathering outside. The
students had locked the doors. Faced
with a potentially hazardous situation,
Fleming ordered about 250 city and
state policemen to forcibly evacuate
the building. The result? One hundred
and seven students were arrested.
Afterward, Fleming remarked that
the mass arrests "let students know
that there were some things we would
not let them do."
BAD BLUEPRINTS
The year 1967 was not a particu-
larly good one for University building
projects. In addition to using $2 mil-
lion of students' tuition to finance a
dubiously popular plan for the Power
Center which required three times as
much money as was allotted for the
construction, part of the Intramural
Sports Building ceiling caved and then
plummeted into the pool area.
The collapsa was caused by rain
and snow, which had damaged the
building's beam structure. This frail
infrastructure wasn't anything new,
though. The IM Building was sup-
posed to have been renovated five
years prior, but the University couldn't
get its act together. According to a
story in The Michigan Daily on Sept.
15, 1967, "a frustrating maze of bureau-
cratic red tape and an administration
that appears to be deaf to the entire IM
problem" were hindering any progress
on the building. Luckily, there were no
casualties in the accident.
Perhaps two of the most memo-
rable building-related blunders have
occurred in the past decade. They're
fresh in our memories, and, therefore,
all the more stinging.
In 1998, there was the "halo": the
gaudy yellow and white steel band that
lined the -exterior bowl of Michigan
Stadium. Decorated with University

icons like the winged helmet and lyr-
ics from "The Victors," the "halo" was
met with immediate disapproval from
fans, who called it tacky and defiant of
the traditional style of Michigan Sta-
dium. Two years later, the halo was
removed - at the cost of $100,000.
As far as fan disapproval goes,
though, the halo is no match for the
University's plan to add luxury boxes
to the stadium. The $226 million proj-
ect, which includes the boxes, wider
aisles and more concessions and rest-
rooms, has drawn the ire of many fans
who say it will separate the wealthy
from the great unwashed in the rest of
the stadium.
But there's more. The University is
entangled in a lawsuit with-the Michi-
gan Paralyzed Veterans of America,
which charges that the renovation
plans aren't in compliance with the
Americans With Disabilities Act of
1990. Last April the group filed the
suit, but the University nonetheless
approved the final component of the
renovation plans in June. In recent
weeks, Athletic Department officials
have said the University will continue
with the project - despite a trial date
tentatively set for September 2008. It
appears that the pleas of fans and dis-
abled veterans have ,so far fallen on
deaf ears.
A PIONEER FOR EQUAL RIGHTS...
MOST OF THE TIME
Although the University admitted
the first black student before slavery
was abolished and was one of the first
major universities to allow women to
attend, its record of promoting equality
is mixed.
Irin1969, acomplaintwas filedwiththe
U.S. Department of Health, Education
and Welfare accusing the University of
discriminating agains'twomen. To help
the department with its investigation,
some women formed a group on campus
to collect more data on the University's
employment of women. The results were
discouraging.
According to the group's report, the
average woman's salary was much lower
than that of men in every department;
women were, disproportionately con-
centrated in secretarial jobs; and they
See' U'HISTORY, Page 12B

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