John W. Egerton Papers, 1961-1965, Box 3 Folder 13

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John W. Egerton Papers, 1961-1965, Box 3 Folder 13
Added title page title:
The Controversity Original Manuscript
Egerton, John
Place of Publication:
Tampa, Florida
University of South Florida
Publication Date:
Physical Location:
Box 3 Folder 13


Subjects / Keywords:
Academic freedom -- Florida -- Tampa ( lcsh )
History -- Tampa (Fla.) -- 20th century ( lcsh )


General Note:
This collection consists of materials relating to the 1962-1964 Johns Committee investigation of the University of South Florida. The collection includes correspondence, press statements, statements to the Florida legislature, editorials, various newsletters and newspaper clippings, as well as the typescript of "The Controversy," John Egerton’s unpublished 300-page study of the Johns Committee.

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Source Institution:
University Of South Florida
Holding Location:
University Of South Florida
Rights Management:
All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier:
028802325 ( ALEPH )
50648262 ( OCLC )
E02-00038 ( USFLDC DOI )
e2.38 ( USFLDC Handle )

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John W. Egerton Papers

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Mixed Material


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Full Text


Prologue THE CONTROVERSITY c.fv One IMan's View of Politics in the Making a i t y ,( \. p ii C !HJ I) ./. I 1955-1956: .. Politics II. 1957-1960: Gestation and the Grand Design III. 1960-1961: The Bliss of the Yearling IV January-June, 1962: "The Campus of Evil" 3 31 50 60 V. June-October, 1962: "Sex, Sin, Smut and Subversion" 104 VI. VII. October-December, 1962: How to Sink a University 150 ,Dcau--'T AT JJ c;, s v ST-"" 1 January-March, 1 9 63: The d sf tr 3 3 ) 7 6 i 187 VIII. 214


Au-rHD 1<. 1S Non '!m SOUTH@ J&ISI!Y The University of South Florida is a s tate-supported institution of higher learning. It was conceived, founded and launched into 1 and other elected officials, laymen appointed to its governing board, and educators employed by the state. In short, it was and isAPolitical institution, and as such it must constantly seek the delicate equilibrium between the demands and requisites of the state and those of the academy. The University of South Florida, when it opened in 1960, was Florida's first new state university in almost 75 years. Its vulnerable infancy perhaps made conflict between the political and the academic realms inevitable; in any event, such conflict has occurred. The pressures for political conformity have clashed with the desire for academic quality, and t hat confrontation of powers has dominated the early history of the University. This book attempts to record some of that history. It covers events from the brief piece of legislation authorizing a new university in 1955 to the formal opening of the Uniyersity in 1960, and from the opening through the first five years of operation as a new university on Florida's changing sands. The sources for the story related here are numerous---newspaper files, official public documents, internal records of the institution, conversations with the participants, and---perhaps most of observations. I cannot emphasize the


latter source too strongly, for this account is, as the subtitle says, one man's view. I doubt that any of the people with whom I worked at the University of South Florida from 1960 to 1965 will completely agree with what I have written, for each must, through nature's limitations, witness events from a singular vantage point. I hope, though, that I have been fair and honest, and that those who disagree with me on specific matters of opinion will find the total record accurate and comprehensive. Universities are vital pillars in our democratic society. More than any other institution, they represent the importance and the necessity of dispassionate inquiry, unindoctrinated thought and honest dissent. The University of South Florida has sought to make these laudable goals a reality, often in the face of misunderstanding and even hostility. This book is an account of the search and the struggle. President Clark Ker r of the University of California, and no doubt others before him, has spoken of.something called the Multiversity---a many-tenacled institution engaged in far more than the instruction of would-be scholars. The subject of this be called a Controversity---an institution forged out of the conflict between politics and academics. John w. Egerton August 4, 1965


At the rostrum stood LeRoy Collins. His wayy hair was liberally speckled with gray, and his handsome face was richly tanned. In the black academic gown which hung from his broad shoulders, Florida's Governor cut an impressive figure, and his voice, too, exuded dignity and compelled respect. "This is indeed a day for bells to ring, for people to sing," he said. ''What a few have labored so hard for---what so many more have given so much for---and what even still more have hoped so long for---is here for all to see now in superb and artful physical form." Seven thousand people sat or stood beneath the mid-morning 1 sun of a late summer day, and the soft whirr of television cameras could be heard in their midst,as the Governor squinted against the glare of sun and sand and white-shirted spectators "But I am certain," he continued, "that all here are impressed with the larger and impelling fact that this is not a day of ending, but a day of beginning---not a day of celebration, but one of dedication---not a day of ultimate fulfillment, but one of bright new opportunity. "In .truth, there is no university here. .Within these well-built walls---with these teachers and these students---. we must build a university in the hopeful days that stretch before us." Thus did LeRoy Collins mark the day of beginning of the University of South Florida, the first state university in the


United States to be conceived, planned and constructed "from the sandspurs up" in the Twentieth Century. Behind the Governor stood the first building of that university, ising bright and glistening from : the sand like something out of the Arabian Nights, and in the distance two other buildings were ready for use and still others had been started. And everywhere there sand---seventeen-hundred and thirty-four acres of sand, so much that the seven thousand people who had come to witness this ceremony of inauguration seemed diminutive and even inconspicuous in the midst of it. The day was September 26, 1960. of ideas and dreams, shaped by debate than seven years compromise, had brought to Tampa the first public university in Florida since the 18SO's and the first built anywhere in the five hundred miles of peninsular Florida south of Gainesville. It was a milestone, but it was in truth, as Governor Collins said, only "a day of beginning." Four hours after the Governor spoke, a south wind pushed dark storm clouds across the bright blue sky, and moments later, to the accompaniment of deafening thunder, a torrential rain hammered with awesome force against the brick and glass and concrete of the new university and drenched the stragglers who could not dash in time across the sand to shelter. Had some ancient oracle witnessed that storm,. he might have read 2 it as a sign of the future, prophecying that turbulent controversy would often follow the sun of success across the history of the University of South Florida. And, had the solemn seer predicted that, he would have been a prophet indeed.


I The explosive growth of higher education in Florida since 1955 follows a pattern similar to.that experienced i n California more than a generation earlier. In the first 35 years of this century, more than 35 junior colleges xaxa and h alf a dozen state-supported senior colleges and universities were started in California, and that trend has produced almost as many more institutions in the 30 years since then. The factors which spawned California's educational growth are now influencing Florida, and have been since the 1950's and even earlier than.that, though there was little public recognition of them before then. The most impressive of these factors is population growth. The 1950 census reported 2,771,000 people in Florida, and by 1960 that figure had increased to 4,952,000. With the people have come industry, expanded undertakings in tourism and agriculture, a flood of Federal government programs, a higher birth rate, and wi h each of these stimulants t here has been the selfp o w ered impetus that promotes s t ill more gro w t h And ther e has been the Spac e Age e m basis on educ a tion, drawing more and m ore college-age youn g people and a larger n umbe r o f adults as well. A s t h e p opul a tion has i ncreased and an incre asing percentage of t h e population has p u r sued higher educ a tion, Florida has been forced t o take rea l istic ap raisal o f its capacity t o m eet this d emand. Afte r t h e 195 1 session o f the Florida Legislat ure, a til:; w:u.-g!i study o f the state's higher educ a tion system was 3


initiated by t h e Legislative Council, a join t co. mittee of oth houses res onsible for studying various areas of state activity w here future legislation might be needed. Among t h e m e bers of the council was C. Bryant, an O c l a a ttorney and m ember of the House of R e presentatives who w a s to play a central role in Florida's higher education story. While it is probably correct to say the Legislative Council initiated the higher education study, it would erhap s be necessary to add that it was actually conducted by the' the staff of the Legislative Reference Bureau, under t h e Asociate_ Director R Blee. It was t h e Reference ureau which planned, executed and reported the research effort, and it w a s Blee---who also w a s t o figure rominently in t h e state's educational growth---wh o develoned t h e lan of research and determined the methodology to be used. Th e two-volume report w a s presented to the Legislative Council February 23, 1953. T h e report w a s a sta t istica l "state of the system 4 account, con t aining no redictions, rojections or recommendations. Florid rt r evealed thatA ranked 34th amon g t h e states in t h e roryorti o n of its p opulation a t tending coll e ge, that 2 8 per cen t of its students were attending school in o t her st tes, that h alf again Florida a s many\stud e nts went out of state to colleg e as c ame to Florida from other sta tes, and t l at enrollment in the state about e ually divided between public and r i v ate institution s (


owhere in the presentation of these or the other findings of the study w a s there a discernible climate of urgency. If Florida was on the threshold in 1953 of an educational boom such as had been underway for almost 50 years, the study.did not make that evident. T h e nearest thing to a call for expansion of the higher 5 definite i ndications that we can expect enrollment to continue to advance in the long run." But t here was handwriting on the wall, nonetheless for those who searched. In 1953 there were only eight public institutions of higher learning in the entire state---two universities, a four-ye r college a n d five junior colleges. Six of the eight were in rural north Florida. The five junior colleges combined enrolled less tha n a thousand of the state's college students, and t h e combined of the t hree four-year i nstitutions w a s onl y 15,000 Except for the junior colleges in St. Petersburg and Palm B e a c h---which had, in the fall of 1951, a grand total of 569 students between them---there was not a public institution of higher learning south of Gainesville, though t hree of t h e state's fou r largest cities and more than two-thirds of its population lived i n that peninsular region. These geographical facts of life were not widely discussed matters of concern in 1953; the U S Supreme Court's historic school desegregation decision w a s a year away, Sputnik had not roared into orbit, Florida was still in many ways a deep-South frontier surrounded by palm trees


' 6 and higher education brought to beach parties and suntans instead of books and slide rules. The number, size, function and effectiveness of F lorida's public colleges and universities, however, did evok e more than c asual reaction from some people, albeit for a variety of reasons. T o south Floridians who took note of it, t heir remoteness from a good university was yet another example of the f act that a group of from north Florida ruled the state government with an iron fist. Vith r are e xceptions, the state's governors, c a inet m embers and a malapportioned majority of the Legislature had alwa y s seemed to resid e in t h e n o r t hern end of the state, holding power over even the most urely loca l county courthouse office as we l l a s t .he governor's chair, and everything in between. To the most honest and earnest educators, a s well, this top-heavy kind of pork barrel gover n ment m eant i n e fficien c y and mediocrity for its colleges and unive sities. And to a few politicians, t h e state of affairs m e ant a necessit for:change. Those who foresaw t h e p o pulation boom knew it would mean more i ndustry, more jobs, more government, more education---and more power. One of t hese men was Farris ant. A few week s after the Legislative C ouncil's study of higher education w a s published, he took u the g avel as s p eaker of t h e Florida House of Represen t atives for the 1953 session, and d u r i n g tha t session be i ntroduced and engineered to passage a bill creating the Council for the Study of H igher Education in F lorida. It is not clear exactl y why the Legislature fel t it necessary to create such a commission, or whether it was indee d necessary for t h e Legisl a t ure, rather than the State oard of Control,


to take the uesti o n s are now academic, S' as is t h e questio n of Bryant's motivation rarly in. 1 9 4 t h e Board of Control---governing body for the university s ystem---implemented B ryant-engi neered l a w by f ive nationally prom i nent edu c ators to make a n ex ust1ve study of h i gher educatio n in t h e state and report b a c k with ....._ .. _R findings a n d recomme n dr. tions. T h e report of the Council w a s t h e most com r ehen:Si v e e ver a d e on

1953 Legislature was in a good position to participate in the efforts of the Council for the Study of Higher Education a year 1 ater. The initial report of the Council was issued January 20, 8 1955. While it was an interim report of findings and recommendations, it indicated clearly the tone and scop e of the final report, w hich was presented to the Board of Control in the s ring of 1956 and was published by the University of Florida Press in July o f that year. Vhile the Legislative Council's 1953 study of higher education had confined itself to a statistical description of colleges and1u niversities as they existed t hen, the ,.,..--. i nvestigations o f t h e Council and the so-called rumbaugh r ec o un ted / i'7':'"" R e port that them went muc h fa t her. Probing deeply into a wide rang e of related areas, it xas dealt with all the t hen-current programs and facilities, with financing coordination, roblem s of organization in a state s ystem, the state's economy, p o pulation, student costs and a variety of other topics. It also attem pted some projections in t h e areasof p o p ulation and enrollment, and finall y presented fifteen summarized "findings" and fourteen "recommendations'' that, taken toget her, represented a fifteen-year development plan for t h e overhaul and .re uilding of t h e Florida s ystem of higher education. etween 1955 a n d 1970, t h e report said; Florida s hould: 1 Pre are for a tripling of ilk colleg e enrollment; 2 Develop a statewide network of two-yea r community colleges; 3 Strengthen t h e B o a r d of Control a s the coordinating and policy making body for the university system, giving it more autonomy from t h e S t ate Board of Educatio n (in )


9 reality the State Cabinet), lengthening the .terms of its members from three to seven years, and its executive officer the II Chief OffiC er11 (i o eo' Chancellor) Of the Ulli Versi ty o There were other recommendations in the Brumbaugh Report, but none was more than umber Six: "That immediate steps be taken to establish additional state degree-granting institutions in the Tampa Bay area and on the lower East Coast. T h a t the new institutions offer initially programs leading to the baccalaureate degree in a wide range of liberal and applied arts and sciences and in selected professional fields, and leading t o t h e m aster's degree in those fields in which the need can be demo nstrated after accreditation is achieved f o r t h e baccalaureate degree pro g r ams." It was from this two-sentence statement that the University of South Flo.rida---and later, Florida Atlantic University-took seed. In an a p pendix of the report t h e Brumbaugh commi ttee dealt more s pecifically with its recommendatio n for the two new i n s titutions. It suggested that the Boar' d of Control select suitable sites, that freshma n and so homore classes be enrolled by the fall of 1 959, that orga n i z ation be on a I divisional r a t her than a departmental basis, and that administra t ive and academic personnel be hired beginning i n t h e summer of 1957 to p lan for 1,500 students t h e first year uch of the nature and scope of the Brumbaugh R e ort w a s made known when the interim docum e n t of findings was released in January 1955. With the L egislature soon to convene,


1 0 it is not difficult to imagi n e the excitement generated by the sweeping projection s and suggestions contain e d i n the report. This especially true i n t h e Tampa ay and lower East Coast areas, for here, i n the words of an i m artial team of competent and disinterested educ ators, was proof that Florida's all-northern higher education network was n o longer adequate to serve t h e growing needs of the state. I ere, at l ast, was a mmunition to fight for colle ges a n d u niv'ersities i n the populous southern areas of the state. That t h e Tam a ay area i nstitution w a s the first to get started and that' it was lo' c ated 1in ill s boroug h Co "'t y on the of Tampa are two f acts tha t Sam M Gibbo n s is perhap s more _resp o nsible for t han any other man. Taking his cue from the i nitial B rumb a u g h Report, Gi bbons moved i n his role as a m e m ber of Hillsboroug h C ounty's delegation to the State House of R e presentatives to introduce House Bill 1007, which said : "The State Board of Education is hereby authorized to estab lish a State University or branch of existing State Universi t y in Hillsboroug h County. Said Board is hereby authorized to have a study made a s to t h e feasibility of 'such action. The Board of Control and the S t ate Board of Education are hereby authorized to enter i nto a l l contracts necessary to carry o u t the provisions of this act." Gibb o n s and anot her Hillsboroug h in the House, Jame s Moody nursed t h e bill to passage. Governo r LeR o y Collins, t hen i n his first yea r a s c hief 1u1 ''= ; nf ns tli lH e i h rerhaps l!:ehic't>Mft "ts :cz;dJae u&i Y1 L J SJL am expa er) hesitated abo u t sig n ing the bill


11 into law. Finally, o n June 18, 1955, he gave in to the urging of his administrative assistant, John Germany---a Tam an---and signed it, inti. saying in a formal statement that a preliminary study already underway "indicates no presen t need for additional four-year colleges or universities and t his has been my firm conviction." Gibbons, oody, Germany and t h e Tampa Chamber of I Commerce didn't see it that way. The y were keenly aware of of the imbalance of power i n the Legislature that gave north Florida such a strangle-hold o n the rest of the state, and they knew a re-distribution w a s long overdue. They foresaw the power and prestige a large university could bring not only in the Statehouse but a lso in other areas, such as the searc h for new industry. And, before t h e ink was dry on Collins' signature, they were at work preparing for t h e battle to ge, the institution created, located and in o peration. waged on half a f ronts, and t h e action was seldom dull. Against underground opposition from the University of Florida and Florida State University, both of which feared a diversion of their funds and a dilution of their power, a struggle went on to create a new institution. Whether the institution, once created, was to b e a branch, a separate univer sity or a college was also hotly de ated. Then, a bitter erupted over precisely where i n the Tampa Bay area the institution would be built. Late-r, in 1957, another controversy was to devel o p over the naming of the institution. And in these fights, a well-organiz'ed and determined group of Hillsborough Countians managed to stay one jump ahead of the pack.


Th e Hillsborough team, inorder to accomplish its mission; had to win the support of three principal 12 during t h e last half of 1955 and all of 1956. The first of these was the Cou ncil for the Study of Higher Education and the success with which t h e Tampans e mpl oyed ersuasion on that group is evidenced by the fact_ that the Council's final published report in 1956 s pecified H i l l sborough Cou nty as the place for the proposed new degree-granting i nstitution and referred also to House Bill 1007, which had been passed between the time of the interim Council report and the final one. The other groups w hich had to be co nvinced were the Board of Control and the State Cabinet, and a t this poin t it be helpful to describe these two bodies and their interrelated roles with respect to higher education. Th e State Board of Control was group of seven lay citizens appointed by the Governor to operate the un"iversi ty s ystem These men met monthly to devise policy and generallyi:O oversee o erations of t h e University of Florida, Florida S tate University, Florida A & 'university (an all-e gro institution co nverted from college to u niversity status by the 1955 Legislature) and two small s pecialized i n s titutions whic h were not college level. Th e Board of Control was formed in 1 905 to rep l ace separate boards of trustees for t h e several institutions, and it work e d through an executive secretary and the presidents of the universities. f It often appeared t hat the Board of Control was in fact as o n e observer called it, "th e B oard i n Control, but s u c h was not t h e case. Aside from the limitations placed on it by the Legislature, t h e Board also was subject to the


13 supervisory authori t y o f t h e State B oard of Education o n almost any matter that body c hose to review The Boar d of E ducation was another name for t h e S t ate Cabinet, w hich w a s made u p of the Governor and six e lected officials. The G overnor and four of t hese Cab i net m e m bers---attorney general, secreta r y of state, treasurer a n d superintendent of public i nstruct i o --, c h ange d hats from the i r oth e r d uties and became t h e official Board of Education a n d i n t h a t capacity n e w construction hired p e rsonnel set sala r ies, n ew prog rams and n e w i nstitution s a n d gave final a prova l to any o t her from the B o a r d of Control w h i c h they c hose to a c t u p o n T h e Governor coul d n o t b e re-elected but all m e m ers o f t h e Cabinet could, and a s a result t here had develop e d over t h e y e a r s a powerful b e n c h o f s i x old guardsmen wh o often bad more authority than t h e Governor, the oard o f C o ntrol and t h e L egisla t ure combi n e d Whil e it c a n b e said to t heir credi t that during t h e y e ars 'of expansion following t h e Brumbaugh 'Re port the Cabinet never actua lly prevente d proposed develop mentsrecommende d by t h e B o a r d of Control from b e i n g u n d ertaken, t h e f a c t remain s that t h e B o a r d of E duca t ion f r e q uently nullified t h e e ffectiveness o f the B o ard of Control by forcing it to o perate politically when it s hould have been independently impartial The Cabinet could---and did---app l y pressure wh e n i t s hould have k ept han d s off a n d o n occasion i t w a s s t u b born or hasty, o r t ight fist e w h e n mor e f ar-sighted attrib utes w ould cer t ainly have better served t h e b e s t i nterests o f t h e sta t e and t h e unive r s i t y system ut the b i g gest lia bility o f t h e Cabi net B oard of Education---in 1955 and i n 1 9 6 5 a s well---was i t s f u n c t ion a s a politic a l oversee r for a s ystem of


14 edu cational institutions whose effectiveness deman that o peration and manip ulation a s t h e y b e as free o f humanly possible. the o f Control respon sib e t o the State Cabinet-oard of Educ ation, h o p e t o escape the p r e ssures w hich make i m artiali ty and disinterestedness v irtually i p ossible. With these two public a political group giving final approval to matters of educational policy and the other an educational policy-making board without success to be non-political._rested the responsibility for deciding whether or not the state would build new degree-granting institutions, whether they should be branches o f institutions or separate colleges or universities, precisely where the first of these, once approved, should be built, and what the name of it should County/ be. And it was to these two boards that Hillsborough carried its case. to build a new institution and to make i t a separate university rather than a branch of the University of Florida or Florida State University might be said to have evolved f rom public demand. In the months following adjournment of the 1 955 Legislature public response to the interim report of the B r umbau g h committee was very favorable, and the various communities o f the state which stood to gain a new university or junior college under the proposed expansion program soon were clamoring for action. Quiet opposition o f the two senior universities to any expansion of the university system---if such opposition ever Lo..H existed beyond the unorganized protests of a few---hS]yaisappeared eat by time of the final Brumbaugh Report in July, 1956.


I 15 And, thanks in large measure to the press, what the Brumbaugh / had called "an additional state degree-granting institution in the Tampa Bay area" was soon being written and talked of as the "proposed new state university" and the "new four-year university.'' The Board of Control, which had to act first on the proposals of Brumbaugh and his thus found the first two questions it faced---whether there should be a new institution and what kind of institution it should be---already settled, at least in the minds of the public, by the summer of 1956. But the phrase, "Tampa Bay are a" cover if"" a lot of territory, and although Hillsborough County was the only place for which Legislative authority had been given to establish a new institution, three other counties in the Bay region soon joined the competition for the coveted new universityo Sarasota and Manatee Counties, on the south end of Tampa Bay, having bickered with each other through the summer of 1956, got together in September and offered 1,000 acres in a tract that included land in both counties. Pinellas County, after first considering a site on the bay south of St. Petersburg, ultimately settled on a large tract on the bay north of the city, where it would be more accessible to students from Hillsborough, and offered it to the Board. in the summer, Jacksonville had bid briefly for the facility, and Palm Beach and Broward Counties, on the lower East Coast, also urged their best attributes on the Board until it was decided that the Tampa Bay area would get first priorityo


16 But the well-oiled organization of Tampans, after getting a jump on other potential contenders bygaining Legislative approval in 1955, never once relinquished its advantage. When neighboring counties prepared their offers to the Board of Control in September of 1956, the Hillsborough group put together no less than five possible locations in the county which could be had for the asking. Two of these--one in the Interbay region southwest of the city of Tampa and the other near the northern border of the county (..owned by State Senator Paul Kickliter)---were eliminated early. ro ently_/ The other three, along with the Pinellas site, figured n the stormy site-selection controversy which raged through the fall of 1956. Probably the most spectacular of Hillsborough's site offers came September 9 with the announcement that three Fort Lauderdale land developers had bought a 6,000-acre tract in southeast Hillsborough, where they planned to build a new "city" to be known as Tampa Beach. The sale brought $10 million to vegetable magnate Paul Dickman, according to the Tampa Tribune, in one of the biggest land deals in Florida history. Dickman said a portion of the land was available to the Board of Control for the new university. Within ten days after the deal was announced, Dickman publicly accused Robert H. Gore Sr. of Fort Lauderdale, a member of the Board, of in office long enough to see "that Broward County gets the first new state university, and he's getting staunch support from someone in Pinellas County." Gore had intended to resign from the Board earlier, Dickman contended, but was "prevailed upon" to stay on and work f the university in Fort Lauderdale.


17 In making his charge, Dickman was quoted as saying, "If you think politics won't play a part in the selection of the site, you're badly mistaken." By that time, only the most naive of an northwest of the city. With most of its members favoring the airfield site, the Tampa group overlooked n othing in its efforts to convince the Board of Control. A special Chamber R. D. Saunders gathered and publicized its activities widely; Representative Gibbons and County Commission Chairman Ellsworth Simmons spearheaded the overall county effort and sought out-of-county support as well; and a Miami-based research firm was retained to conduct an e study of the airfield site near Temple Terrace. By September 27, when the Board of Control met in Orlando to consider possible locations for the new institution, Tampa was prepared for a blitz campaign. With Gibbons and Simmons serving as spokesmen for a delegation of more than a hundred' Tampans who all but filled the meeting room, Hillsborough stood by the end of the day as the odd-on favorite and, in the words of staff writer Sam Mase of the Tampa Tribune, "the battle is all but over." The Board set October 12 as the date for its decision and announced that its budget request to the 1957 Legislature would include $12,380,000 for the new university. As October began, newspapers in Tamp a and St. Petersburg pushed their respective campaigns to a fever pitch, and what had begun as a friendly rivalry erupted into a namecalling dogfight.


18 Because Tampa had moved quickly to take an early lead in the fight for a university and had maintained that lead through the months of debate, other counties seeking the new school were forced on the defensive, ''In the final weeks before the decision was made the Tampa group could a fford to confine arguments to the assets of its offerings, while other groups .., to search for and attack the chinks in the Tampa armor. The St. Petersburg Times, in an open letter-editorial to the Board of Control, the Board of Education and the Legislature, cited projecte d expenditures to make the point that the university site choice was "the biggest single decision one of you will make while in office." The paper said Pinellas County had offered an existing junior college and an unused maritime base to serve as a temporary campus while the county's'thousand-acre site on Tampa Bay north of the city was being developed. But most of the Times editorial was devoted to Xka an attack on the Tampa sites and the "political pressure from Hillsborough" to win the approval of state officials. EVen before the state's $100,000 survey of future higher education needs was complete, said the Times, Hillsborough was pushing a 500-acre tract at an abandoned airfield next to an industrial park where the Joseph Senlitz Brewing Co. would soon be making \ beer. After Pinellas offered i-ts bayfront site, Hillsborough also came up its side of the bay and upped its airfield site to a thousand acres, the paper said, and added, high "under tli ressure of Gibbons and hisycolleagues the Board of Control has had no opportunity to visit all the proposed sites."


19 And finally, after calling for a campus on the water in "the right environment" of "a gracious community.with a culturtl, religious heritage," the Times concluded by saying, "In good conscience our state leaders must not penalize Pinellas for electing Republicans to the Legislature." The Tampa Tribune responded with long refutation of the charges made by the fimes, concluding with this parting shot: "We in Tampa have presented our case as forcefully_ as we know how. We think it is a convincing case. But, win or lose, we will not attempt to bolster it by m isrepresenting the facts or maligning our rivals or imputing base motives to honorable men." More effective than this editorial response, though---and more illustrative of the strategy Tampa employed to grap an early advantage in the site scrap and maintain it throughout---was a lengthy story in the October 3 Tribune which described in \ assets/ great detail the of the so-called Temple Terrace site. Written by staff writer Leland Hawes, the story quoted at length from the report of Julian Langer Research, Inc., the Miami firm employed by Tampans to make .their case for them. Through the words of the Langer report it became clear that the Tampa forces had reached internal agreement on the Temple Terrace site as the one to stand and fight for. The report gave these major reasons---all of them duly reported in the Tri-bune article---for favoring the north Tampa location: l-It was in the focal point of a network of major highways, and within an hour's_ time of 100,000 Floridians; 2-The location would serve not only Hillsborough students but those from P .inellas on the west and Polk County on the east;


20 3-It was on high ground---30 to 60 feet above sea level---and would require no fill, seawalls or special footings; 4-The new industrial park immediately south of the site would provide part-'time jobs for students and stimulate research; and 5-It was closer to a heavier of college-age youngsters than any other site under consideration. The report also said---and the Tribune reported---that "for a great many years, Pinellas County has been a recognized haven for old people," and the number of its old age and survivor's insurance beneficiaries had tripled in the past six years. After this brief lapse into negativism, the report quickly returned to form with an impressive listing of Tampa assets that wa. s tainted by hyperbole (it said, for example, that the city had eleven hospitals; the city telephone directory later listed only ten, six of which were actually small clinics). In short, the Langer report concluded, the Temple Terrace location was protected from hurricane winds and salt s ray, well situated for evacuation in case of an attack on (\Me ill A i r Force Base, near "cultural and moral facilities !J unmatched on the West Coast of Florida, near industry and highways, eight miles from the heart of a major ?ity and an hour or less from the homes of ninety per cent of all Xka students in the six surrounding counties. Implied the Langer report and the Tribune article, "What more could anyone ask?" In a last-ditch effort to prevent the Temple Terrace I site being chosen, the St. Petersburg Times said the university would be known as "Bottlecap U." if it was built )'\Ld..l\.


21. (the Schlitz brewery, but the Board of Control, October 12 meeting, narrowed the site choice to the Temple Terrace location and the waterfront site on the Tampa side of the bay and said it would make a final selection within thirty days. The locations in Pinellas, Manatee and Sarasota Counties and the Hillsborough site pledged by vegetable magnate Paul Dickman were dropped from consideration. In a shift of strategy, the St. Petersburg forces scrapped their plans for landing the university and pushed for Tampa's bayfront location---known as the Owens site---in hopes of keeping it away from the north Tampa location and as close to them as possible. Board member Lee Ballard of St. Petersburg made the motion reducing the choice to the two Hillsborough locations. The night before, the Board had met behind closed doors and deadlocked 3-3 on the two Hillsborough sites, and with one member absent the tie could not be broken. But the decision to put the university in Hillsborough County, whichever of the two sites was finally brought \.._from/ elated Tampans. Among XkBm those quoted prominently in the Tribune were T. Paine Kelly, president of -the Greater Tampa Chamber of Commerce, who said the university was "the most valuable new enterprise Hillsborough County could receive and it will mean more in the decade to come to the_ prosperity of Tampa and the county than any other single project." Dr. Elwood c.Nance, president of the privately-supported University of Tampa across town, a ;;ly pledged that "we will give all the cooperation possible," but predicted that the University of Tampa's enrollment would drop "by at least 30 to 50 per cent." So, it appeared, ail was over except the shouting. But before the final choice was made, there was plenty of shouting to be am done.


22 Three days later, the Tampa Tribune reported in a story by Sam Mase that Hollis Rinehart, a Miami attorney and member o:f the Board o:f Control, was listed as an officer o:f mortgage which had a close interest in xaimgx%XtiaxX the Owens property being considered as a site :for the new university. Just two months earlier, according to the article, the First Continental Mortgage Company's charter had been reformed to list Rinehart as a vice president and designate him as the company's agent. Rinehart, when questioned, said he was no longer connected with the :firm, but had told the Board o:f Control about his previous connections. Details o:f the tangled situation showed that the 3,300-acre tract on North Tampa Bay known as the Owens property was actually owned by one Lewis E. o:f Coral Gables and the Owens Land Company had acquired an option to buy it. Several o:f the directors of the Owens company were also officers of First Continental Mor;gage, and there appeared to be a close connection between the two companies. Rinehart's explanation, contending that he was innocent o:f any :financial interest in the disputed property, was accepted by Governor Collins and Dr. Ralph Miller, chairman o:f the Board of Control, and they strongly supported him, but the raged in the press for several days. And, as if there were not controversy enough, the Tampa Baptist Pastors' Conference, with cries of "social degeneration" and a lowering of the "moral, spiritual and cultural standards o:f the university," opposed its construction in the Temple Terrace area near the Schlitz brewery site. "The offer of the Schlitz Brewing Company to give part-time jobs to students would be detrimental," the pastors JJA, Ll.rQ.() tut" ThRd.JL e1.M_ tY\_ tfOJU_J yM_#,


23 On October 28, the St. Petersburg Times leaped back into the fray, accusing the Tribune of pushing for the site in north Tampa "where the new university would be cheek by jowl to a fine new $20 million brewery. The site would require coeds and young men to pass through Tampa's worst section, the hard core of the city's crime and gambling and vice which has given it a national reputation for more than half a century," said the Times, and the St. Petersburg Ministers Association echoed t h e charge. When the Board of Control met in Jacksonville November 8, a delegation of Tampa ministers headed by The Rev. E. c. Abernathy, pastor of Riverside Baptist Church, told the Board they were confident that adequate safeguards for the student body would be placed around either site. The Board, obviously mmxa concerned with problems of more import than the brewery, once again postponed its final selection in an effort to get unanimous agreement on a The Board's executive secretary, Dr. J. Broward Culpepper, said Lewis E. Bower, owner of the waterfront site, would be given a chance to guarantee that his property would be filled to a minimum of seven feet the spefifications set by the Board. was eager to consider a waterfront site. Of the six members 'present (Fred Kent of Jacksonville had been called to Georgia because of the sudden illness of his mother), James Love, James c 'amp and chairman Ralph Miller favored the Temple Terrace site, while the other three-_.;:.-Rinehart .:'of Miami, Ballard of st. Petersburg and s. Kendrick Guernsey---wanted the Owens site on the bay. Kent was known to favor Temple Terrace.


24 The Board set another target date---December 6---for making a final site and asked the Hillsborough representatives to provide more information in the meantime. Dr. Miller, obviously b"eginning to tire of the extended search, told reporter Mase after the meeting, "We're not trying to establish yacht clubs. We are trying to run educational institutions." armpx. ::115 1 t n 'i to a a story in the T ampa Times which revived the controversy over firm closely linked to Rinehart's alleged connection he bayfront site. The Times said Lewis E. Bower, owner of site, and Joseph K. Edlin, a former officer of First Continental Company, were planning to spend about $40 million to build a small city around the new university if the bayfront site was chosen. Edlin, the Times said, had been sentenced to four years imprisonment in 1 9 41 for fraud. Edlin was also the man for whom Rinehart had said he helped to set up the First Continental company, and to whom he bad later sold his stock in the company. When the Board postponed selection of the site, some uneasiness developed among the Tampa forces that the Board's related indecisiveness was somehow the strange and complicated entanglements of Rinehart, Edlin, Bower and the two mortgage thou h no proof of this was ever made known. companies, /This concern tended to make Gibbons and other .supporters of the Temple Terrace site .., even more t:-L., lentlY, but they cautiously decided to wait an rest on the case they had made.


25 The additional information asked of Hillsborough's spokesmen by the Board included estimates of costs for providing water and sewer lines to the two sites and dredging and filling the low-lying bayfront site. When these estimates for the bayfront property were II& later placed at $2.5 million, Edlin himself appeared at a special meeting of the Hillsborough group to protest them as too high. Saying that he represented Bower,, Edlin demanded that a court reporter take down a verbatim account of all that was said at the meeting and threatened to leave when a newspaper photographer came into the room. Gatherin g up his papers, he said, "No pictures or I will leave this building. I will have no more character assassinations as was attempted by one paper." He apparently referred to the Tampa Times story about his criminal record. Edlin finally relented and was photographed, saying, "Be sure you got the right angle." The next day, Tampa Mayor Nick Nuccio and a group of city officials spoke out for the first time in favor of the Temple Terrace site, m making no reference to the controversy that continued to swirl around the bayfront property. Five days later, as the Board of Control gathered in Tallahassee for the dramatic decision, the only thing certain was that it would be made against a backdrop of festering ill will. The site selection was scheduled on the Board agenda for 1:30 p.m., but when other business was completed ahead of time Fred Kent suggested that the site vote be taken. Chairman Miller agreed, but Rinehart protested, saying that he had asked a number of people to be present at the designated hour. When Miller ruled out any further discussion except by the


Board members themselves, Rinehart launched into a long argument that.Miller interrupted with the admonition that "You can't filibuster. this thing." 26 After Rinehart had his say, the vote was taken, and the Temple Terrace site was chosen five to two. Rinehart was joined in his dissenting vote by St. Petersburg's Ballard, who said afterward that he still wanted a site on his city's side of the bay. The Board then adjourned before lunch, and a from Pinellas County who arrived during the noon hour found that they missed the showdown. For a brief period of three days it appeared that the long and hotly-disputed fight was over. But just as the Hillsborough team of boosters was breathing a relaxing sigh, Governor Collins dropped the.other shoe. Pointing out that the Board of Education had the legal responsibility for making the final decision, he said, "I don't think we are prepared at this time to make a final decision on the basic question of creating the university." Saying he wanted to see the institution established and wanted it to be in Hillsborough County, he_implied that sufficient funds to build and support it might not be available now and added that even if the Board of Education approved creation of the institution he would still want to hear arguments for both sites, not just the one in Temple Terrace. Collins' reported statement hit Tampa like a bomb. As rumor spread that a coalition of interests around the state was forming to block Hillsborough as a university site, more than fifty persons in the Tampa area made plans to be


27 in Tallahassee two days later to protest at a meeting of the Board of Education. One Tampa paper compared Collins' holdup move to the action of fQrmer acting Governor Charley Johns, who 'in 1954 had refused to the Board of Control's recommendation of. a new president for the University of Florida. Even though the c ontrol board and the other four members of the Board of Education were agreed on Dr. Philip G. Davidson for the post, Johns said he would not sign a paycheck for Davidson, xmi who then promptly refused X.X the post. At the Board of Education meeting, four of the members agreed that they would favor the Board of Control s recommendation of the Temple Terrace site, with Collins that establishment of the university "is not a foregone conclusion." Collins, for his part, said he was amazed at the "almost hysterical and unfounded attitude" which had arisen in Tampa following his earlier statement of caution. He said the newspaper headline (Collins Rebuffs Temple Terrace as New University Site) had been "somewhat misleading," and went on to say that nthere are many problems yet to be faced and decided before the university can become a problems such as how it will be finance d and how it will fit into our overall pattern for higher education in the state." When the Governor indicated to his colleagues on the Board that he wanted more time to study the issue, they agreed, and no action was taken. called The next day, a of St. Petersburg representatives on the Governor{tosay they felt; the Board of had erred in its selection of the Temple Terrace site. Dr. Miller,


and several Hillsborough Countians, Qther members of the Board of Control and of the Legislature were also present. 28 the Board of Control chairman, and Dr. Culpepper, the Board's ere secretary, also appeared before the Governor and to present the case for the Board's lengthy., of the a long list of negative and affirmative arguments, rumors, charges and countercharges hasped out. Among the items to bob to the surface and disappear again were a suggestion that the new institution be a branch of an existing one, a rumor that the existing state universities were opposing any new ones, a statement that the Women's Christian Temperance Union had strongly protested building a university near a brewery, and a claim that the bayfront site owned by Bower was about ten times as valuable as the Temple Terrace site. Governor Collins asked most of the questions for the Cabinet, and toward the end of the session said the Board of Education would take the Temple Terrace site recommendation"under advisement and make a decision at an early date." As if reassured b y the Governor's explanation of his earlier statement and his attitude of quiet and thorough interest during the meeting, Hillsborough's forces went home .resigned to be patient and wait. They had heard the other four members of the Board of Education say they favored the was needed Temple Terrace site; now only the Governor's assent XXmm ----final resolution, and Gibbons and his colleagues were confident t that would be forthcoming. By this time, practically everyone favored the Temple Terrace site with the lingering exceptions of Ballard, Rinehart and the small groups they spoke for.


On December 18, the Board of Education met in.Tallahassee in an air of hope that the university decision would be-made. The day before, several members of the powerful Senate Appropriations Committee had told the Cabinet they would not vote for any new taxes when the Legislature met in the spring, and the threat of economic strangulation was added to all the new other woes that beset the still-uncreated university. Senators Charley Johns of Starke, Randolph Key, John Rawls of Marianna, Harry Stratton H. Hair of Live Oak---all members of the north Florida clique of senators known as the Pork Chop Gang---stood, as usual, unified against new taxes, new programs and new threats to their hold on the state's purse. Other Pork Chop senators, including Tom Adams of Orange Park, L. K. Edwards of Irvine and Wilson Carraway of Tallahassee, also appeared and expressed in large degree the same no-tax sentiments as their colleagues. But the Board of Education, at its meeting, its intention to let the resolve the financial question. Voting unanimously on a resolution presented by Governor Collins, the Board established a new four-year university on the Temple Terrace site in Hillsborough County, and told the Board of Control to prepare all necessary plans for the opening of the institution by the fall of 1960. On hand to witness the Board of Education's action were Gibbons, Moody and Simmons from Hillsborough County, James Love of the Board of Control and Board secretary Culpepper. The Governor's resolution which he said he had been working on for almost a week, reflected some of the reservations 29


30 he seemed still to hold, but by the end of the. meeting all parts of the lengthy document had been scrutinized and thosYn approved by x present. Secretary of State R. A. Gray and Attorney General Richard Ervin both objected to a section which said the Board of Education reserved the right to review its if the Legislature did not provide for adequate operation of existing institutions and expansion of the community college program; Governor Collins heeded the objections and deleted any reference to reservations on the part of the Board, and he also accepted two suggested changes from Culpepper. During the course of the meeting he said their decision was one of "great and extensive importance," and in one final answer to his critics added that though he had been accused of stalling, he was determined that the Board reach its decision "cautiously It did, and _Florida's first public university years was born. Thus did the two-year struggle to create and locate the institution come to fruition. What had begun as a sentence imbedded in the preliminary report of the Brumbaugh Committee in January, 1955, had been hammered through maneuver and compromise into another sentence in another document. It was dated December 18, 1956, and it read in part: "Now, therefore, be it resolved that the State Board of Education of Florida does hereby establish a new degree-granting institution of higher learning in Hillsborough.County, Florida In later years the seal of the University of South Florida would bear the date, "1956," and its catalogs and other official records would make brief and formal note of the founding. Of far more significance to the institution than its official


birthday, though, would be t'he fact efore it had a name, a president, a faculty, a student body or a physical plant, it kadx possessed certain elements of character---birthmarks; if you will---that were indelible. Among these 31 were its status as a separate four-year, degree-granting the areas of instruction it would emphasize initially. But most significant of all, in Xkx& the crucial years ahead, would be the paramount fact that / the University of South Florida delivered out of the birth pangs of 1[' If the months of struggle to establish and locate a new state university had highlighted weaknesses in the state's method of governing its higher education system, these weaknesses caused little public concern. While endless columns ofnewspaper copy told and retold the story of friction between city and city, between board and board, between vested interest and vested interest, no paper questioned the cumbersome pyramid of clearances ole guidance that hindered a university from operating under the oard of Control with funds appropriated by the Legislature. No public official dared suggest less interference from the State Cabinet and its chameleon-like performances as Boarld of Education, Budget Commission, Board of Commissioners of State Institutions and other roles, or less intrusion by the Legislature itself in areas other than appropriations. The Council for the Study of Higher Education in Florida, in its 1956 report, had taken


32 d:::6 note of these flaws in the system, recommendations for improvement had, for the most part, fallen on deaf ears. The Council's report was noteworthy for two major suggestions: creation of new and overhaul of the method of coordinating and governing the entire system; the first inspired sectional interests to exert pressure for growth, but the second hit a solid wall of interference and soon was discarded. As a result, the new university near Tampa was created, a site near Boca Raton was soon selecte d for the proposed East Coast university, and a number of requests went to the 1957 Legislature for funds to begin two-year community colleges. There is little question that the state needed most of these. institutions; in fact, the Brumbaugh committee's enrollment projections have already. become outdated. But in the scramble for new facilities, more attention was given to where they would be built than to what sort of institutions they should be, or how they should be planned. There was, for example, a state council which had been created to oversee the junior colleges, but administration and operation of these schools in the hands of local public school boards, who ran them almost as extensions of the public school system. Into this atmosphere of confusion moved the infant University of South Florida. It still had no name as 1957 began, and was not to have for almost a year, but it had some semblance of identity---enough 'to provide a target for still more political darts. Senator Wilson Carraway of Tallahassee, chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee, said before the 1957 Legislature began that he could not support "the immediate establishment .... of


33 any new university until we have a chance to expand FSU." He rererred to Florida State University, located in his home town. And a rew days State Budget Director Harry Smithr.-yet another source or intrusive red tape in the pperational structure or the universities---urged on the Cabinet (sitting as the or and bienni Budget Commission) the rirst many annuai udget he would recommend ror the University or South Florida. The Board or Control, in budget requests prepared berore the new university was created, had asked $12,380,000 to begin it. Arter the budget director, the Budget Commission, the committees and, rinally, the Legislature itselr had rinished cutting, there remained $8,602,000 ror buildings and equipment and $140,000 ror salaries and expenses to cover the 1957-59 biennium, and the Board or Control relt lucky to survive with that much. The building appropriation was later reduced .. D) when state income railed to meet expectations, but what remained was more than mere money---the Legislature, by its appropriation, had conrirmed the earlier decisions or the Board or Control and the Board or Education and had set the new university sailing on an uncharted course through stormy seas. Two new hurdles raced the university in July or 1957---selection or a president and selection or a name. The rirst was cleared by the two governing boards with little difficulty, but the second spawned a storm mildly reminiscent of the site battles of a year before.


34 The Board of C ontrol had been in search of a president for six months when it settled in July on Dr. John s. Allen, executive vice president of the University of Florida. The Indiana native had come to the state in 1948 as vice president of the university in Gainesville, and from 1953 to 1955 had served as acting president, following the neath of Dr. Hillis Miller. When the new presidency was created for the Tampa institution, Dr. Allen, at 50, had nine years of top level administrative experience in the Florida university system behind him. The Board nominated Allen to the Board of Education and recommended h i s salary be $17,500---the same as that of the presidents at the University of Florida and Florida State University. The Board of Control and Dr. Allen had come to terms, and he was ready to go to work. On the aay the Cabinet Board of Education was to confirm the appointment, a formal statement of acceptance by Allen was prepared and distributed to the press. But once again Governor Collins and the other Cabinet members balked. They insisted they had no objection to Allen himself, and from all indications they did not, but they refused to approve a salary equal to that of the other two presidents. The press releases were hastily recalled, and Allen decided to wait for the two boards to resolve the issue. Dr. MilYer, the Board of Control chairman, argued for the Board that starting a university was every bit as demanding as running one. Governor Collins and the Board of Education members saw equal salaries for the presidents as recognition of equal status for the institutions, and they were not willing to


concede that. Predictably, the Board of Education won. Two weeks later, the Board approved a salary of $15,000, plus the same perquisites accorded the other two presidents, and Allen 35 accepted in a statement almost identical with the one which had been issued and then recalled. The date was July 16. He was to begin work in Tampa August 1. Dr. Allen! s appointment was very favorably received. The student newspaper at the University of Florida, which earlier had chided the Board of Education for stalling, urged the top salary for their vice president and spoke highly of his qualifications for the new job. Other paper around the state echoed that praise. And, while Tampa prepared a big welcome ... for him, the two governing boards reverted to their old tug-of-war over the next issue.:..--a name for the university. Two days after Allen's appointment was confirmed, the Board of Control sent to the Board of Education its top choice for a name---University of Southern Florida. Since the Cabinet group had already turned that one down once, the Board sent along as alternates Florida Gulf Coast University, Florida West Coast University and University of Southwest Florida. A list of forty other suggestions received by the Board of Control from a variety of sources was discarded. Again the Board of Education refused to accept "University of Southern Florida," saying it conflicted with Florida Southern College (a private school in Lakeland) and would also limit the possibilities for naming the other new state university proposed for the lower East Coast. For the next two months, while newspaper auntests to select a name drew hundreds of entries to


36 the Board of Control, no choice was made. On September 20, a joint committee of the two governing boards agreed to narrow the choice to two: Florida Gulf Coast University and University of Southwestern Florida. The Board of Control, after twice being turned down on "University of Southern Florida," I suggested "University of South Florida" in the committee debate, but it was promptly rejected by the two Cabinet members. But when the two final choices went to the Board of Education on October 15 the selection process degenerated into something resembling a party game. When the members divided on the two choices, Governor Collins suggested putting Temple Terrace into the title, and the alternatives increased to three. Those who disliked "Southwestern" said several schools around the country had that name. How about "Gulf Coast;?" "Sounds like a fish camp," someone replied. Seeking reaction, the Governor put the question to the persons attending the meeting, including the press and a delegation of Seminole Indians appearing before the Board on another matter. In the straw vote, Florida Gulf Coast University---the fish camp title---got no support. Four members of the press, one Indian and Secretary of State R. A. Gray voted for the University of Southwestern and about 25 persons, including the rest of the Seminoles, liked the Temple Terrace idea. The decision was put off, and the problem kicked back to the Board of Control. "Poor John Allen," Gray said. "We don 1 t even know how to introduce him." The Board of Control stubbornly clung to its choice of "Un iversity of South Florida," and on October 22 the Cabinet Board of Education wearily gave in. The vote was 3-0, with Gray abstaining and one member absent. One of the members displayed a sheaf of telegrams protesting the name, but said


37 he would accept South Florida to "get this thing out o:f the way." Thus ended another controversy that had seen lUlU a list of suggestions from the unlikely to the bizarre finally reduced to one. It was settled. The institution would not be known as Ponce de Leon University, or Flamerica University, or of the Sunshine State, or Professor Ludwig W. Buchholz -University-It would be the University o:f South Florida. It is ironic that none o:f the principals in the debate should have known and remembered that the Legislature of 1943 had created the "University of South Florida," and that the law had remained on the books for years. That act, passed during the war, created a "State University to be Known as the 'University of South Florida,' Whose Primary Purpose Shall be a School of Medicine, a School of Pharmacy and a School of Dentistry." No site for the institution was specffied. The appropriation section of the law contained a blank where the dollar amount was to be listed, but the law nevertheless of Governor tiu.. ... ?.4 .. went into effect June 14, 1943, without the signature "'-0 Od.:tuj'k. <.L\.0-.() "to C..cU\ Spessard Holland. -d. While the two boards were haggling over a name for the university, Dr. Allen was hard at work. After moving into an office in the Hillsborough County Courthouse, he set about to accomplish the four major tasks that faced him: hiring of personnel, planning o:f curriculum, planning of facilities and enlisting community support. After a secretary, the new president's first staff. selection was a librarian, indicating the direction and emphasis the university would assume. Elliott Hardaway, then assistant director of libraries at the University of Florida, was officially hired :for the new post b y the Board of Control


in September, 1957, and started work soon pegin gathering a basic collection of books and periodicals for the first class of students three years later. In planning facilities, Allen had to move in several 38 areas at once. While Jefferson Hamilton, a professional consultant on campus planning, begam work on an overall layout, the Board of Control appointed five architects from around the state to work in an advisory capacity with Allen. At the same meeting Hardaway's appointment was confirmed, the Board approved the overall campus plan and named architects to design the first five buildings. Roads surrounding the campus, sewage disposal, area zoning and fire protection also had to be planned, and in these axa needs the city of Tampa and the Hillsborough County Commission gave the full measure of support. The campus itself, located at theJedge of the city of Tampa and about two miles the small community of Temple Terrace, included a thousand acres in one rectangle and 734 acres in another block to the northeast, where the two sections had a common border of about half a mile. The I tho usand-acre section had been donated by the county, while the northeast portion had been given to the county by Stanton D. Sanson of Miami Beach for inclusion in the site offer to the Board of Control. Sanson retained a large section of acreage adjoining the campus, and the value of it was to rise rapidly in future years. All initial development of the campus was confined to th, e thousand-acre section on the south. Jefferson and his five architectural advisers suggested a proper grouping o.f buildings and layout of roads and other features, and the architects then


39 named to design the first five buildings (including three of the advisers) agreed to incorporate certain related features into their plans to give the campus a unified appearance. In the area of curriculum development, Allen began a series of consultations with noted educators from throughout the country to plan the undergraduate program, and from these meetings came the academic program which Allen and his staff of administrators and professors would mould and refine in the time that remained before the ... And during all this activity in the fall and early winter of 1957, Dr. Allen kept one alert hand on the public pulse. Eager officials in Tampa cleared his path on many occasions, .and the enlisting support, and during the day his energetic wife, Grace, carried the message to an endless round of coffees, teas and punches. From these efforts by the president and his wife, with the enthusiaatic support of the Chamber of Commerce and other public officials, would come the creation in 1958 of the University of South Florida Foundation, an incorporated body of university friends and supporters organized to serve the purpose of an alumni association. It is interesting to note how the personality and many of the characteristics of the University of South Florida were determined long before its first students were enrolled. The Higher Education, for example, had separate, four-year, degree-granting institution, and over the objections of many it had become that. The Council also suggested that its buildings be air conditioned and its academic programs be organized on a divisional---rather


40 than departmental---basis, and these, too, came to pass. The choice of a site pre-determined the university's role as .servant to a commuting population that would always outnumber resident students by two to one or more. The Board of Control was in agreement that duplication of programs should occur only in those areas where the other state universities were having heaviest enrollment, and for this reason the University of South Florida was instructed to begin with undergraduate programs in general education, teacher education, business administration and initial liberal arts. The of building s included no physical education facilities, thus precluding early emphasis on athletics. An enrollment of about 1,500 freshmen in the fall of 1960 was planned long before that date, with additional classes to be added each year until the first graduation. Building s were designed to serve multiple purposes in the beginning, and were grouped on the campus for efficient conversion to specialized use when the need arose. And all of these factors were blended together by John Allen, with the support of the Board of Control and a growing number of proud Tampans, to form the foundation of the new universityo One Tampan who did not share the enthusiasm of his fellow citizens was Sumter L. Lowry, a retired National Guard general who unsuccessfully against LeRoy Collins for the governorship / in 1956 Lowry, an arch conservative who suspected Communism was behind practically anything new, wrote Allen a series of letters demanding to know exactly what kind of institution would be built and what its educational would be. Allen replied courteously to every letter, but Lowry ended the correspondence by terming the president's answers unsatisfactory. Lowry was


41 then silent, but his influence was to be felt again in future years. He had conducted a similar letter-writing campaign to University of Florida President Hillis Miller several years earlier, and had stopped only when Miller threatened to sue him. Collins, who had entered the governorship in 1954 in a special election victory over acting Governor Charley Johns---another future nemesis of the University of South Florida--had been re-elected in 1956 to a regular four-year term. As 1958 began he was half way through what was to be a six-year term as governor, and had developed into a mature and able leader. His outstanding service to Florida---many people felt he was a better governor than Florida deserved---was to come more in his last three years in office than in his first three, and during that time many of XkK his fears and reservations about the far-reaching recommendations of the Brumbaugh Report were to evolve into strong support. Despite a 'freeze that damaged crops and hurt tourist in early 1958, the university xax survived a forced cut in its building budget and had two buildings under construction by the end of the year. In May the growing staff and Hardaway's expanding book collection moved out of the courthouse and into a large house near downtown Tampa, and on September 5 grpund was broken on the new campus. A group of high school who would be eligible to enter the first class helped Dr. Allen and Governor Collins perform the traditional spade ceremony. The day before, the charter creating the.University of South Florida Foundation was signed by Allen and a group .of citizens whose names were now familiarly associated with the university: L), S ), Sam M. Gibbons .D. Saunders, John F. Germany (now a circuit


42 judge), Ellsworth Simmons and several others. To the characteristics of the university which had been formed through study, debate and compromise prior to mid-1958, the people who joined the staff after that brought their own ideas and personalities to be assimilated into the whole. Foremost among them were seven men who, with Dr. Allen, the responsibility for most of the detailed planning of curriculum, organization and policy. Members of this "Little Cabinet" were: Dr. Sidney J. French, at 64 the elder statesman of the group. He was dean of the College of Basic Studies, cornerstone of the University's general education program. A chemist, he and Dr. Allen---an astronomer---had taught together at Colgate University in the early 1930's and had set up there one of the country's first general education programs in thesciences. Frerich later :-\:Lx became dean of the faculty at Colgate, and held post for ten years before !'retiring" in 1954 to begin a new career as dean of Rollins College. him together with Allen again, and the two of them shaped most of the philosophy on which the new m:iversi ty b .egan operation. R obert L. Dennard, a bright was barely 31 years old when Dennard got a bachelor's degree with honors from the University of Florida and stayed on to work there in the business office for six years, rising rapidly to the position of comptroller. [)Y.. B. Mayhew, 42, who became director of evaluation services and institutional research. Mayhew, an erudite and sometimes brilliant psychologist, was another strong of general education. His experience was in the


43 Michigan State University and Stephens College---and he had directed some recent studies of general education in that region. Howard G. Johnshoy, dean of student affairs. Johnshoy had a doctorate in education from Columbia and had been an to the president and later d ean of student affairs at Ball State College. A bachelor, he was 42. N 1 Russell M. Cooper, dean of the College of Liberal Arts. Cooper was a former assistant dean of the University of Minnesota's liberal arts college and chairman of an interdisciplinary studies program there, and was equally sold on the concept of general education. Cooper was 50 years old. )f Dr. Jean A. Battle, 45, dean of the eollege of Education. Battle was a native of Alabama and had a doctorate in education from the University of Florida. He had served for many years as a faculty member, dean of students and finally dean o f the college at Florida Southern College. Dr. Charles N. Millican, also with a doctorate from the University of Florida. He became USF's of the College of Business Administration, returning to Florida from Hardin Simmons University where he had been dean of the business school. Millican was 43 and a Baptist minister. These seven and Dr. Allen, F j i aed..,.-.,. _1ibrarian Hardaway and Ra Dr. Frank H. Spain, the University registrar, designed the framework house the University during its formative years. During late 1958 and 1959, Dr. Allen kept a steady flow of these plans and policies going to the Board of Control for approval, and the Board gave them quick and enthusiastic support. A period of happy success--it might even be called serendipity---seemed to surround the


young university, and after the previous years of controversy the change was welcome. It was to last through the first year of operation, and then---as all honeymoons must---it would return with a jolt to reality. This period in the University of South Florida's development, while far from uneventful, was nevertheless quieter and more serene than any it had known or perhaps would ever k n ow. A very vital creative process was underway, but it was a calm deliberative process, and it took place in an atmosphere of enthusiasm and cooperation. There were a few noteworthy events for the press to record in the two years preceding the university's official opening---groundbreaking, the s tart of the Foundation, the creation of the university seal---but most of the significant the institution's new employees was mental rather than physical, and newspaper stories that earlier seemed full of conflict and action now struggled to convey ideas, to tell what the university would be. The 1959 Legislature restored the construction funds which had been stripped from the university's budget the year before and also appropriated money for a sixth major building and some smaller facilities. The Foundation, seeking funds to supplement a Federal dormitory loan, launched a drive for $55,000 and ended up with $80,000. A Tampan, Henry Gardner, designed the university seal, with the name and the founding year in a circle surrounding a globe, a sun and a lamp of learning, beside which were the words, "truth" and "wisdom." Construction w:as underway on five buildings, three of which would be ready for the opening of school, and the first of them was occupied April 26, 1960. These were the twenty-four months to September, 1960.


And as they,took place, Dr. Allen and his "Little Cabinet," armed with a wealth of advice recorded from the visits 'or numerous consultants and full of their own fresh ideas and enthusiasm, worked long hours in a heady atmosphere m:f that could only come once in a lifetime. They were stimulated by the opportunity to build a university literally from scratch, and they were happily supported by a community which had not begun to grasp the impact it would have Dr. Allen and Dean French were the chief architects of the curriculum and-philosophy. They planned, first of the College of Basic Studies, in which seven major courses would be offered All freshmen and sophomores would enroll there, taking at least six of these courses, and the emphasis would be on general education. There would be heavy emphasis, too, ongood teaching above all else, and the best professors would teach here as well as_in more specialized, higher level In the early catalogs and other publications of the university, these sentences were oft-en found: "A good college education has unity and balance "Technology is today changing our ways of living, and of making a living, so rapidly and so profoundly that it is neither desirable nor sensible to train for specific, specialized jobs in college. Indeed, this is not the function of a college education." 45 "No one can predict the nature of the changes that may take place for any individual, but a good college education must assume that changes will take place for many and provide for them as best it can by emphasizing broad fundamentals of knowledge and intellectual skills."


"In the final analysis, any real education is self-education." "We will not be satisfied that we have a 'whole man' if he is trained only as a narrow speclalist." "Each of our colleges accepts the idea that a college 46 education begins with a broad base of general courses, proceeds to more specialized work and ends with a formal effort to bring together the many separate threads of an education into a significant synthesis." "The basic studies provide that part of a studentis education which should be held in common by all well-educated persons." This was general education, and it was to, be the underlying philosophy of the university. There was to emphasis on independent study, on interdis_ciplinary pursuits; there would be no separate academic departments, but broader divisions instead. Faculty would be sought whose interests and experience spanned two or more fields of study. Curricula wpuld be planned by faculty members from the entire university, and many would teach on joint appointment in two or even three colleges. President Allen was asked before the university opened what he considered its most significant policies to be, and he replied: "First, our to educate the whole man. Secondly, our emphasis on a faculty dedicated to the importance of good teaching. Then, our all-university approach---the insistence that everything we do contributes to education, in and out of the classroom. And of individual effort, setting a pace, faster or slower, as the indivldual requires."


47 There would be, in short, an accent on learning---that title was given to the university catalog---and it would be university-wide. The theme would be unity, and words like "teamwork," "coordination," centralization" and "combination" would be frequently employed to describe it. What was sought was "a total university, not a collection of individual parts." And the end product ........ would hopefully be self. motivated individuals who had learned to think and act independently and to pursue knowledge on their own. It was, on the whole, a good plan. It had been put together by men who had seen other institutions bogged down in tradition, in rigid specialization, in inefficiency. It would through careful organization and streamlined procedure, to rescue the student from the impersonal assembly line and make of him a broadly-prepared individual. "A be an organized opportunity for self-education," his opening address to the faculty and students, and that is what the University of South Florida set qut to be. A faculty of aBbut a hundred personsA was assembled from all parts of the United States to begin the first year of classes. age was only 39, and almost three-fourths of them---over twice the national average---held doctorates. Many ofthem had been attr(\cted to the University of South Florida by the dream of starting with a fresh slate, without traditions and sacred cows, and they came with the 'best of their varied experiences to help blend a new kind of education. They wouilid try, in the words of a major stated objective of the university, "to create a community of scholars, dedicated to teamwork in the search for truth, the exchange of ideas, and the


48 establishment of high standards of intellectual inquiry and creative activity." All this the city of Tampa accepted without question. Few people even bothered to ask where the football team would play, or where fraternity row wo uld be; that would come in due time. Right now there was a big new university abuilding, and it was Tampa's biggest new industry ever, and who cared about dry educational philosophy? Of more importance was all that construction, and all those new families entering the market arena, and all those students who would be coming along. As the opening of school approached, the was sailing briskly in calm and friendly seas. Its every wish was a command to the Chamber of Commerce. Its press relations were so good that it had only to respond to reporters clamoring for news. Special newspaper sections printed by the Tampa Tribune and the Tampa Times in August of 1960 were full of ads welcoming the university and stories of praise from public also officials and envious educators, and the at great length the policies, programs and people of the new institution. Governor Collins, approaching the end of his tenure in office, was scheduled to give the principal address at the opening convocation of the university. In six years he had presided over the conception, creation and construction of Florida's first university of the twentieth century, and during :1z that time he had changed from a s eptical opponent to an enthusiastic advocate. On September 26, 1960---a day made famous in history by the first televised debate between Presidential candidates Richard M. Nixon and John F. Kennedy---


49 LeRoy Collins spoke with an eloquence that made his earlier hesitancy seem remote and insignificant. He said the state of Florida was facing up at last to its obligations to improve the higher education of its youth, and behind him stood the most striking illustration of that fact. He spoke of the "unparalleled opportunity to p ioneer new frontiers in higher education and forge new educational traditions for the generations that will follow.'' He talked of the constancy and the inevitability of change, of the need to "peel away and discard the layers of myth and-ignorance,---of prejudice and dogma." He spoke of the blurred vision of people "looking at the problems of the world of the twentieth century with eighteenth century field glasses." And then he said the basic aim of this new university "is to assist the individual student to equip himself first with a set of values and a broad understanding of man, and then with a set of tools to enable him to help make of this world the kind of place in which he and his children can live in dignity, in mutual helpfulness, and in peace with the other inhabitants of the earth." And when he finished, the educational experiment that had originated seven years before was launched. To this point, all was theory. Now came the crucial test: Would it work?


v 50 1 % 1 : From September of 1960 through December of 1961---the first full academic year and the beginning of the second---the University of South Florida several unique distinctions ...JJL. the country ...... In addition to being the newest universitY'I'\indthe only completely air conditioned one, it had these assets: A young and energetic faculty which was, man for man, as well-trained as any in degrees are indicative of good training); .IL A curriculum by such accumulated trivia as is found clinging to the catalogs of older institutions; A community of enthusiastic students free from the distractions of football and fraternities and queen contests; And an administration and supporting staff of people hard at work tnanslating theory into practice, without pressures from powerful alumni or long-ensconced academic feudal lords. Under the banner of the "all-University approach111 it was one big and happy family. Committees were formed to develop further the skeletal philosophy that had been established, and not only administrators but faculty and student. s and non-academic staff members as well participated in these committee deliberations. Students formed clubs---local fraternities---which emphasized service rather than social activity, and other student XHKkxiB religious, recreational, scholastic and special interest---also sprang up. The basic general education curriculum had to be built upon, and in each college committees of the colleges carefully designed each new course. A University Senate, with representation from all parts of the campus community, gave final approval to these new courses and programs as they were completed. The timetable of priorities was headed by


51 "Strong Undergraduate Teaching," and other functions, such as research, would have more modest-beginnings. As for intercollegiate athletics, that was a long way off. The university policy said, i n effect, "Let's build a top-notch instructional program, then add research and other scholarly pursuits, get ourselves accredited, and then we'll talk about sports." An intramural program was started with limited facilities, and a pickup team of student "all-stars" played a couple of "extramural" games with area colleges, but this hint of an approaching intercollegiate program was quickly discontinued and recreational pp.rsuits were confined to the cam pus. The accent was very definitely on learning, and from the beginning the university developed and cultivated a reputation for toughness and no-nonsense pursuit of academic quality. There was pride among all members of the "team," and morale was so high that few people balked at the heavy. work load. The Fine Arts Division of the College of Liberal Arts became the university's spectator sport, and culture---instead of athletics--was in the showcase. Dr. Lewis B. Mayhew, the university's scholarly idea man, put together in a booklet called "Intellectual Tone for a State University" some of the ideals the institution might pursue, and these reflected the high promise that accompanies a fresh start on a clean slate. The booklet spoke of the intrinsic importance _of ideas and of academic pursuits, the scholarly scrutiny of any subject, the encouragement of creativity, the acceptance of uncertainty. It related the problems of newness and of assembling an entirely new team of faculty and students from a variety of backgrounds. It said the university should be a


"forum in which all variety of opinion may be expressed and questioned." "So long as all questions, no matter how 52 extreme, are treated as academic matters, the university may be successfully defended It is when the university departs from these principles of rational analysis and scholarly treatment of all questions that it runs into trouble." This was academic freedom in its pures t form, the ideal toward which every good college struggles, and the booklet on intellectual tone said a new university, even a state-supported one, could and must attain this essential goal. u b-k. The University's first catalog,Awritten and edited by Dean Sidney French in 1959, presented the philosophical framework of the new university, and the second one, compiled by Dr. Mayhew, reinforced these principles. They spoke of self-education, of r college as a full-time job and as a preparation for life, of the university as servant and leader, of personal responsibility and maturity, of extracurricular activities as related to th4 learning process. In the realm of student welfare, Dean Johnshoy emphasixed maturity, urging students to adult standards of conduct and behavior rather than having them imposed upon them. Instead of long lists of rules with punishment for violators, students entered an atmpsphere of development in which they were urged to analyze their own mistakes and apply mature criticism and correction to them. At times the lack of guideposts left students in confusion and _uncertainty, but no one could complain of being treated like a child. This was not high school---it was a young and incompletely formed university, striving for identity and stability with an untried group of


J 53 freshmen and a faculty of widely diverse backgrounds, beliefs and temperaments. It was idealistic---sometimes unrealistically so--but the dream of building a new Harvard in the South was so compelling that most of those who were a part of the project labored complaint toward such a Utopia, it could be done and hope that the dream would never end. Accent on learning, the all-university approach, general education, independent study, outstanding teaching, a community of scholars, organized self-education---these were the by-words of the University of South Florida. If they were cliches, that fact was ignored; if they had been tried before, no one seemed to know or care; if they were unrealistic, no one dared suggest it. The overwhelming majority of faculty, students, administrators and staff were .caught up in the excitement of a maiden voyage, and in the first year they were together there was hardly a disparaging word among them. The physical plant of the university consisted of an administration building, a student center and a chemistry building, plus a power plant and a maintenance building, when classes began. The library. and a theatre-auditorium building were completed before the first year ended. As grass began to cover the sand and landscape plants added a look of permanence, the physical plant was enlarged on a timetable keeping it barely ahead of the growing student body. All buildings served multiple purposes in the beginning, and by 1965, when there were more than fifteen buildings valued .X in excess of $20 million, academic or temporarily located in quarters designed for other uses.


I A university women's club was started the first year under the guidance of Mra. Allen, the president's wife, and .like the university itself, it followed the all-university approach. Membership included not only faculty wives and wives of administrators, but secretaries and wives of non-academic personnel as well. In January of 1961, Florida inaugurat-ed a new governor: Farris Bryant, the former legislator who eight earlier 54 had introduced the bill calling for creation of the Council for the Study of Higher Education in Florida. Bryant rode into office on t h e strength of a pro-segregation campaign against Doyle Carlton Jr., a moderate, and when he took over as state executive he was recognized as a north Florida (Ocala) conservative and a staunch segregationist. During the campaign he had vowed to save the taxpayers $50 million and preserve separation of the races during his administration. Five months later, with Bryant's prior approval, the University of South Florida admitted Negro school teachers to its first summer term and became the first state university in Florida to allow Negroes in an undergraduate course. With that crack in the wall, the new university led the way to gradual integration in all the state universities before Bryant left office, but each Negro application xax had to be cleared through the Board of Control and the governor before it could be accepted. In a word, Bryant had backed down on his popular segregation pledge, but he quietly kept his thumb in the bottle and removed it only when he felt he had to. # Integration at the Uniwersity of South Florida was notable for the quiet and unemotional way it took place. The local


press duly reported the event, but there was no advance publicity, no hint of violence or discord, and from the beginning the university's Negro students were treated the same as all other students. So normal and uneventful was 55 the first Negro enrollment that many pers-ons---including, no doubt, Tampa's most volatile segregationists---were not even aware it had taken place. When the second year of classes began in September of 1961, Governor Bryant addressed an honors convocation at which the university band provided the music, and the band's tuba player, seated just below the platform where Byrant stood, was the university's first full-time Negro student. If the Governor noticed, he gave no indication of it. The newness of the university, its size and the heavy demands of planning and operating simultaneously placed kax a considerable burden on the new community of scholars and would-be scholars in the beginning. Almost every student was experiencing his first contact with higher education, and the adjustment was painful. In addition, there were social activities, clubs, student government and sports activities, and these had to be organized and launched. The Fine Division began a series of lectures, plays, concerts and art exhibits, and while these provided recreation and cultural stimulus, they also meant more work. The Board of ContPol, after two years of study, planned to convert the university system fromsemester operation to a trimester plan in the fall of 1962, and this served to speed .the pace of activity at USF. So busy were the students and faculty, and so high was morale during the first year, that the nearest thing to a


controversy was a mild student "demonstration" over the wearing of shorts on campus. It took place on a warm May day in 1961, when about a hundred students in dress varying Bermudas to coats and ties gathered in the Administration Buildfng patio to protest a vague university policy concerning dress. The policy said students were young adults who should not have to be guided by rigid regulations, and added that dress should be "appropriate to the activities in which the individuals are 56 engaged." The students wanted a yes-or-no answer on the wearing of shorts to class, but they never got it, and the brief march soon disintegrated. The campus newspaper called Dean Johnshoy's explanation of the policy "vague and cloudy." Otherwise, all was peaceful. The 1961 Legislature, first under Bryant's administration, ended a disappointing session in which the Governor's forces held appropriations to rock bottom in an effort to fulfill xk& his .. campaign pledge of a $50 million savings. This kept the University of South. Florida from gettingback on its originally-planned construction pace, but it aroused a little grumbling and not much else. The building space was needed, and so were the pay raises that went b y the wayside, but everybody was too busy to complain for long; and it was too early for the inevitable x chinks in a new institution by mortals to manifest themselves. A new community of scholars in sunny Florida was no longer the Utlbpia it had appeared to be to the newcomers, but it wasn't exactly a mirage either. There was a freshness 'and a uniqueness about the place that made faults seem minor, and between the spanking new campus and the


57 comortable residential areas of Temple Terrace and Carrollwood the faculty and administration worked and played in an atmosphere foreign to the experience of most of them. It was not until the fall of 1961 that uneasiness began to be noti ble, and even then the momentum of the first year swept the charter faculty and their newly-arrived colleagues into the Christmas season with only minor stalling of the well-oiled educational machine. Some members of the faculty were beginning to question the effectiveness of the all-university approach and the general education program of the College of Basic Studies, but their objections had n o t crystallized. Dr. Mayhew, whose outspokenness had made him strong friends and equally strong enemies, announced in November that he would resign in February to accept a more lucrative and presti us position at Stanford Uniiversity. A new forum, the Search for Truth, was launched objective discussion of contemporary national and world affairs," and quickly stirred up I &mK a minor controversy with a candid debate on race relations. And just before the holidays, announcement of a new procedure for registration drew quick protests from students. But all these events had a ring of familiarity. They resembled the happenings on college campuses everywhere, and while they began to put cracks in the perfect m irror of the new university, they also made wonderous faculty members smile and acknowledge that this was really a university after all, new and different and even a little better than most, but a university just the same---not perfect, not without fault, but a place things were happening, where there was ferment. The forums stimulated discussion, as did the December visit of


58 an official of the Russian Embassy in Washington, and such things didn't always meet with complete understanding either in on among state officials or the community or the campus itself, but they were honestly approached, in the spirit of Mayhew's' "intellectual tone" ideals, and generally speaking, they were welcomed. In Decembe' r President Allen named Dean French to fill the position of dean of academic affairs, a post the president himself had doubled in for the first year and a half, and Dr. Edwin P. Martin, chairman of the biological sciences course in the College of Basic Studies, moved up to the deanship of that college to replace French. Mayhew's job---institutional research and evaluation services---was divided, with Dean French assuming the research role and Dr. Clifford Stewart taking over the testing progr .am. As 1962 neared, the University was approaching the end of a period of rela.tive bliss. That it had been a busy,often hectic period, no one could question; but few serious snags had interrupted the spirit of cooperation that preYailed. Practice was revealing that the theory needed some repair, and this was taking place; some members beginning to chafe under the weight of committee work and other extra duties; others showed some frustration toward the general education program, and student leadership was beginning to assert itself. Yet in spite of all these things, the dominant attitude was one of satisfaction, tempered by the growing realization that the did, after all, have some faults. What lay around the corner in the new year was something later described as the university equivalent\:1; the baby blues. The new institution had been born to the cheers of the throng,


59 and in its early hours of life it had drawn only praise. Now those who had to live with this new child---the administrators and faculty and students---had passe d through the first flush of pride into the reality of its presence and its need for attention. The baby home, the smiling visitors bearing gifts were gone, and somebody had to see the other side of the picture. This was not a perfect angel, but a manmade institution ld reflecting the imperfections of its creators. It had faults, and high spirits and hard work alone would not repair them. Some compromise would also be needed, probably some hurt feelings and some realistic thinking---and a tough skin as well. From 1953 to 1965---through the University of South Florida's years of conception, gestation, birth, childhood and adolescence---the first eight years were by all odds the easiest, stormy as they sometimes were. For with the beginning of 1962 came the most cqntroversial, the most unbeliavable, very foundations of hold it tottering on the brink part of the next eighteen months. II (!rJiiiaibtna. It brought out the best---and the worst---of the t.l new university, and more than any shaped the character of the institution and the direction w hich it was to follow for years to come


Forty-five miles north of the University of South Florida campus, in the rolling citrus grove country near Brooksville, a rambling, frame house sat atop a hill. Its spacious lawn was well manicured, and a rich variety of native Florida plants and trees thrived beneath the towering live oaks which surrounded the house. Col. Raymond Robins, an internationally known 4-JJ social economisqlived there with his wife for many years, and in home and surrounding groveland to the u. S. Department of Agriculture to be used as an experiment station. Col. Robins, whose own colorful background included a personal acquaintance with Nicolai Lenin and a major role .in the founding of the YMCA, left a romantic legend with his country estate when he died in 1954, and that legend remained when the University of South Florida acquired the house and 114 acres on a long term lease from the Department of Agriculture. The University used the property for botanical research. and for retreats and conferences; later, it was mxtwtgwx declared surplus property and the state acquired it for the University. Col. Robins named his country home Chinsegut, an Eskimo word mean ing "Where the things of the spirit, having been lost, are regainedo" From the wide porch that surrounded three sides of the house, he could look .out on the lush greenness of the yard and In this secluded paradise he sought "the things of the spirit," int9' and same setting years later faculty members and administrators and students of the university retreated to evaluate their and plan for the future in an atmosphere of quiet reflection.


One such retreat took place at Chinsegut on January 6, 1 962. Members of the University of South Florida faculty and administration gathered there that cool and rainy Saturday for a day-long series o f discussions on the state of the university. It was a dreary day, and the mood of the faculty seemed to match the weather, for with the new year had come a dawning discontent that was just beginning to express itself. Three specific things---and a few more minor ones---contributed to this discontent. The first of these was registration, a perennial thorn in the flesh of almost every college. In December the university had announced a new method of registration for the second semester, and r eaction had been far from favorable. Under the new plan, students would list the courses they wished to take the hours when they could not be available, and university registrar's office would then arrange the schedule without further consulting the It was a somewhat desperate attempt by the to streamline the registration but students. saw it as a de-personalized step toward what one of them termed "educa.tion by IBM machine,'' and many faculty agreed. The second disruptive factor was the now-celebratedSearch for Truth forum, which in less than two months had tackled the to the United to ask President Allen for an explanation, and several complaints from both in and out of the Catholic Church followed the birth control discussion, but the faculty's concern involved not content but personalities. The faculty member conducting the forums had divided colleagues into supporting and opposing camps, and this 61


62 split was quickly becoming an open wound. And finally, the faculty was at odds over a speech by Dr. Mayhew earlier that week. In what amounted to his swan song to the university, Mayhew had appraised the attempts to create an intellectual tone and found.them lacking. Recounting the goals that had been set up, he said the university "obviously has not reached, and perhaps not even approximated, these ideals." He spoke of poor attendance at and concerts,xma small numbers of students in the library while throngs gathered in the recreation parlors, and emphasis of the student neppaper on extracurricular activities. And he added that major sources of student concern during the first year were regulations on the wearing of shorts and changes in the registration process, while faculty concerns centered around the lack of executive-type chairs, salary adjustments under the proposed trimester system and "whether or not white jackets should be worn to formal <4...Ll tl.. In addition to these three dissonant notes, several uother faculty complaints were expressed at the Chinsegut retreat. They concerned the University Senate, in which faculty strength was diluted by the presence of administrators, non-academic personnel and students; the lack of university funds and release time for.research; increasing breaks in the channelSof communication between faculty and administration; and the growing burden of faculty involvement in university affairs other than teaching and research. Curiously, some faculty members were complaining of too much involvement in the administration of the university, while others protested the faculty was not involved enough in these wM affairs; this indicative of the university's


63 growing pains and its search for identity. The Chinsegut conference of January, 1962---ironically, the last time the and administration .. to resolve their differences---was notable as the first real confrontation by staff of the university with the problems they faced an infant institution trying to convert ideals into reality. of Thomas J. B. Wenner, a lecturer in the general education American Idea course and the man behind the Search for Truth forum. Tom Wenner had come to the University the previous fall. His record was an impressive one, including teaching, government positions and newspaper work both in the United States and abroad, and at fifty-five and semi-retired he seemed ideally suited to teach in the American Idea program. His references were from people who had known him ten or more years before and his activities of the recent past were sketchy and hazy at best, but a good impression at the university, and he hired for one year as a lecturer. A stirring speaker, Wenner looked and acted superbly the part of a world and of medium lL height, and silver-haired...._ with a thick \. t\,IA.t! J white mustache soon became recognized as a_, .._ learned liberal faculty. As the forum which Wenner initiated gathered steam, he became the center of campus attention. His sometimes-eloquent expression stirred off-campus notice because of\? #'/liberal slant, but among his colleagues it was his flambuoyancy that separated the flock. During November and December he engineered


?64 the forum into a platform for his personal expression, and the more attention he drew the moreJspoke out. When some members of the faculty and administration began to question his tactics and some of his statements, Wenner complained that he was being pressured to keep quiet. At the Chinsegut conference Wenner was made one of the discussion leaders, at least partly .1!b-18?1isd;' to demonstrate. that no effort was being made to silence him. He seized the opportunity to express his pet peeves, dominating two long sessions with a series of blasts at the administration of the university. alleged were administrative disregard for the without representation," the status of lecturers and others in non-professorial ranks, and Wenner's expressed fear that academic freedom was being stifled at the university. Whether Wenner's complaints were justified was a point of divisive debate among the university staff during and after the conference. That some problems of administration and operation had begun to appear was obvious; the extent of these, and their seriousness, was moot. But however accurate were Wenner's objections, his long and rambling orations at the retreat sometimes bordered on irrationality, and their effect was to the breech between As the day ended, Wenner was a eccentric malcontent in the minds of others, and there were few unconvinced in between. Said one disgusted faculty member, "It looks like we're in for a long, cold winter." Hov right was his prophesy soom became manifest.


65 Within a week, trouble was brewing in half a dozen campus was set up to assume control of the Search for Truth series. Until then, he had had a free hand to select topics and participants; now these choices .would be mad e other 1 persons who joined him for the task. Wenner wanted the next forum to iDa concern a public school course called "Americanism versus Communism," which the 1961 Legislature had made compulsory for high school seniors, and the committee agreed to the topic, but when Wenner wanted to bring in the ultra-conservative legislator who had proposed the course "so we can expose him," the committee wouldn't go along. After a stormy debate, the committee postponed the forum, and Wenner stormed out of the meeting. The next day a small group of Wenner's students who were publishing a mimeographed "opposition newspaper" called the G D. I Journal came out w ith an issue headlined, "Search for Truth Series Muzzledl" and the story gave Wenner's heavily slanted version of the forum committee debate. In the meantime, Mayhew's farewell speech had been given feature treatment i n the Tampa Tribune, adding fuel to the and discussions salaries under the new trimester system were doing nothing to boost morale. These things, taken together, would have been enough to test the strength of the solidest of institutions, and for the suddenly beleaguered University of South.Florida they were a stiff trial indeed. But one more straw had to be ap plied, and it came when the simmering registration kettle boiled over.


66 The announcement that the newly-installed registration system had developed serious flaws could not have come at a more inopportune time. Students already upset by the system and by the reverberations of the forum series and faculty members worried about academic freedom and next year's salaries now turned their full attention t o registration. Faculty advisers complained that the new system had been initiated without their prior knowledge, and complaints spread that the administration had imposed the system and botched it up in the process. In assessing the system's problems, President Allen left the impression with some faculty members that they were to blame because they had not supported the plan, and so the conflict grew. The plan had been devised by the University's Planning and and x two or. three of the ten top administrators the president, tlie 1ntent ha been to eliminate the massive number of class changes made by students after a term was started. After the plan was agreed upon, however, two serious mistakes were made. First, it was poorly explained to both faculty and students; and, when it had been initiated, several members of the planning committee helped to defeat it by privately agreeing with complaining faculty members that it could not work. the college deans, for example, first assured ...... enlist the full support of their :;::::. to make the best of the experimental plan, but then told their unhappy professors the plan was largely a creation of and their complaints should be directed to him. Into this morass of and faculty discord stepped Wx Thomas Wenner. The day after he had told several colleagues he knew nothing about the registration squabble and was


67 going tp stay out of it, he was helping his growing band of student followers a forum---a new one---to "get at the bottom of the registration mess." First, the students persuaded Dean of Students Howard Johnshoy tb submit to questions on a wide range of student complaints, and with Wenner coaching from the sidelines and a packed of chanting students cheering them on, the panel of the dean f\.4..AAa rough time. When the subject got around to registration, the hot discussion had to be halted, and Wenner promised that the following week more administrators would be invited in to expmain their part in the registration system. By this time Wenner was openly attacking the administration in his classes, charging "dictatorship}" and "repression of the democratic process." His following of discontented students V 7 ; and several faculty members joined in. At Wenner's invitation, a Tampa Times reporter anonymously"because we 1 re not sure academic freedom extends to ighly critical the faculty," and a e 1 on signed by 500 students and thirty-seven faculty was fired off to the governor. The next forum was staged in an atmopphere of excitement and agitation,. and Wenner sat on the front row calling instructions to his student inquisitors while four deans and the registrar tried without success to deal calmly with a barrage of loaded questions. Cocky and impertinent, the students demanded answerBs as if they were a battery of prosecuting attorneys, and the packed auditorium rocked with cheers and catcalls. There is little doubt that the registration planleft much to be desired. It severely restricted student choice of hours for classes, and put too much of the procedure in the


68 hands of beseiged and unprepared clerks. In addition, the entire plan was too hastily designed, too poorly communicated and too slowly improved when obvious faults developed. But once it was set up, there was no way to discard it and revert to the previous method, and for better or wdrse, the university was stuck with it for the approaching semester. When it began to fall apart, a demoralized faculty did not resign itself to seeing it through, but instead used the plan as a sounding board for the other problems that had been accumulating. Registration became a symbol of the growing seriousness of discord over academic freedom, general education, the all-university and a host of other disputes, and Tom Wenner, seeing develop, fanned the fire with emotional charges that democracy was dead on the campus and liberalism was being crushed. Still, no one called his hand. Even the most dissatisfied faculty members shied away ,from assmciation with Wenner and his rebellious tactics, but the and to urge ratio a 1 seemed to lose momentum (final exams and the semester break aided h t.. in this), and when the forum on teaching Communism wnr PO fiuki..r lad ,._ February 20 the heat of the past month had lessened. participating in Wenner still was forums, though more and more faculty members urged his replacement. The discussion on teaching eommunism was moderated by another professor, and Wenner was joined on the panel by Dr. Fred Turner of the State Department of Education (he had been assigned to prepare the outline for the new course) and by Dr. James R. Cope, the ultra-conservative president of nearby Florida Christian College. Wenner performed


69 with surpriaing restraint, saying the course should be objective and analytical rather than an indoctrination program. Later that week, a faculty committe. e recommended changes in future registration procedures, and for a short while the air was cleared of the heat of A special bond issue had also been pushed through by Governor Bryant, and announcement that USF would get funds ut for a much-needed physics building brought considerable relief to the science/ and faculty. The relative quietude was all too brief. On February 25, a news release from the University announced that Dr. Jerome Davis, a former Yale Divinity School professor, would lecture the following Tuesday to students in the general, education American Idea course. On Monday, President Allen received an early morning phone call from Joe McClain, a state legislator from Pasco County, who complained that Davis was dangerously close to being a Communist and should not be allowed to speak. The president stalled, and after hanging up called in Dr. Robert A. Warner, chairman of the American Idea course, to get the facts. After a lengthy conference with Warner and XkB several of the deans, Allen decided that the 70-year-old Davis was too controversial to risk a fight over. He had a distinguished background, attested to by half a .column of data in Who's Who, but he also had made several appearances before the House Un-american Activities Committee and had belonged to a number of organizations K listed by the Attorney General as subversive. Allen said in a statement, "when I looked into his that backgrmund, I the institution's point of view his a ppearance before a class would be inappropriate. Had Mr. Davis been invited to speak outside the class, where attendance is


70 volm1tary, and under other auspices than the administration of the University of South Florida, we would not have objected." immediately that his appearance had a ed, but flood of phone calls poured into the president's office all day from pubiliic officials and other political conservatives who had been told about Bavis but were unaware of the cancellation. The Association of University Professors chapter at the University, already uneasy about academic freedom in the midst of strained relations with the administration, pushed the president from the opposite direction. In a statement to the press, toe AAUP of the said the right instructor to, choose his own methods and mxXKxaix resources had been violated, and urged from Allen a "clarification of the classroom rights and reBponsibilities of the teacher at the University of South 'Florida." Thomas Wenner's reaction to the fresh controversy was a curious one. Before he learned that Davis would not appear as scheduled, he complained bitterly to several staff members that he had been asked to transport. Davis to the campus and was in danger him. Wenner near lived a small community northeast of the campus, and Davis had a summer home there. "Davis could quote me as s .aying anything after a two-hour automobile trip with him," Wenner said. If Wenner felt that his _own campaign for more freedom of speech and expression zwd:nu shoumd be extended to include Jerome Davis, he made no mention of it. But no one had much time to devote to Wenner. An uneasy campus truce had been shattered by the Davis incident, and now outside pressures were added to the intramural strife. Following


. 7 1 t e the Davis episode and the re.sultant public protests from both liberal professors and conservative politicians, these explosions erupted like a chain of firecrackers: Education writer Steve Raymond of the Tampa Tribune explored th wpole ange of the university's internal problems, from faculty mo ale to registration to student rights, in a Sunday feature. -::Harry Golden, an outspoken liberal, gave a public lecture on the campus and was shouted at by a heckler for downgrading the John Birch Society. The Coalition of Patriotic Societies, an ultra-right wing organization fathered by Sumter L. Lowry, began in its newsletter to lambast the university for inviting liberal speakers to the campus and for "other activities of a leftist nature." Lowry, the avowed foe of anything even approaching liberalism, thus attempted for the second time to pressure the University into a course more to his liking. Harrison Covington, a USF art professor, was chosen by a cu:t to paint six murals in the county courthouse lobby, but the county commission and after much lH?U. tlu..u.. l publicized ss:i::Oil!illiief'f-. U tUro The Board of Control and Governor Bryant, with $1.3 million to distribute in pay raises, announced their intention to use only half that amount for adjusting salaries in the conversion of the university system from semesters to a year-round trimester program. Full use of all appropriated funds for the conversion had been urged by the university presidents and many legislators, but the Governor and his forces said 11 per cent raises, instead of the 25 per cent asked by the universities, would be given


72 USF's faculty, along with faculties of the other state universities, publicly protested the Governor's plan and said the trimester system might not get off the ground unless adequate pay adjustments were made. In the end, of course, Bryant got his way. The Board of Control, a majority of whose members he had already appointed (though he had been in office only fifteen months), held the line where he wanted it, and the faculties. their blutt called,. sq!'tered in silence.


72 USF's faculty, along with faculties of the other state universities, publicly pr&tested the Governor's plan and said the trimester editor Wickstrom which strongly supported Wenner and excoriated the University on the Davis matter and some other purely internal matters that only Wenner could have told them about. All in all, March was not the best of months for a tottering young university still only eighteen months old. But it was only the beginning. For if March was hectic, it was mild beside the bizarre events of April and the xXxiEg cloak-and-dagger followed in the confusing weeks of May. In fact, after March 1962 ended, the University of South Florida was not to kxmK enjoy anything approaching normalcy fo:r more than a year The strange events of April, coming on the heels of the University's "long,. cold winter" of discord, drew together into sympathetic relationship five bitter opponents of. the institution, and with the passage of time the outside pressures on the University mi&Im& evolved from disjointed and spasmodic thrusts to a series of calculated and coordinated blows. Each of these enemies had an axe to grind; had they been of singular purpose, they might well have succeeded in toppling the University in its infancy. As it was, they came dangerously close. The rebellious five were Thomas Wenner; Mrs. Jane Tarr' Smith, a Tampa housewife and mother of a USF student; George Wickstrom of Zephyrhills and his son Bernard; Sumter L. Lowry


73 and his Coalition of Patriotic Societies; and State Senator Charley E Johns, the former acting Governor who headed a much-feared legislative investigating committee. That others, including Governor Farris Bryant and one University's own deans, may also have entered into the /is a possibility that was frequently rumored but never proved. But with or without help, the five dissidents and their followers gave the University all the problems it could handle. And of the five, none was more difficult to decipher than Prior to I Thomas J. B Wenner. the Davis incident, Wenner was being considered by the University to instruct a group of high school teachers in a summer workshop preparing them to teach the new "Americanism vs. Communism" course which had been created by legislative mandate. As he became more and more recklessly critical of the University administration, an effort was made to ease him out of the summer assignment, for fear that he would bring down the wrath of right-wing legislators. But Wenner, whose early liberalism had begun to raise the eyebrows of his most tolerant colleagues, was by February in the midst of an amazing metamorphosis. With the assistance of his new-found friend George Wickstrom, imK he began to take on the appearance of a hi, rock-ribbed conservative. Through Wickstrom 1 s paper, it was pointed out that Wenner had advocated a campus /J platform for George B. Stallings Jr., tn atelegislator who authored the new Communism course (no mention was made of the fact that Wenner had wanted to "expose" Stallings as a f'anati.c). Wickstrom also noted that Wenner had a opposed the campus appearance of' J rome Davis, and said too that XXIX the University had kept Wenner off a faculty committee planning televised teaching


74 program for the course on Communism, presumably because he was too strongly anti-Communist. In short, Wickstrom implied suppressing him. Wenner by now was in open rebellion. In frustration and he would spend the month of April seeking other supporters besides Wickstrom. And he would find them. One such supporter was Jane Tarr Smith, wife of a Tampa insurance man whose family reached back to the early days of the city. Their. son, a transfer student at the University, had been elected vice president of the student association. Jane Smith, an attractive and pleasant-voiced woman in her forties, had first crossed swords with University officials in September of 1961, when she and three other disturbed parents met with five administrators to register complaints about certain books \ that were being used in classes and alleged atheistic exhortations of some professors. Among the books Smith and her companions critici were Steinbeck's "Grapes of Wrath," Huxley's "Brave New World" and Loren Eiseley's "Immense Journey." After a meeting of an hour and a half, during which the University officials politely refused to revive the book lists, Mrs. Smith and the I others departed on what appeared to be a note of mutual respect and cordial agreement to disagree. Except for a phone call to the University the day before Jerome Davis was to appear, Jane Smith made no furtherA?rotests to the institution. Instead, she directed her energies toward enlisting s upport from others in the community who shared her alarm about a ffairs at the University.


75 On April 4, Jane and Stockton Smith and two other couples--Mr. and Mrs Neil Smith (no relation) and Mr. and Mrs Morton Funkhouser---addressed a letter to about fifty couples in the community, inviting them to the StocktonSmith home on the evening of April 9 to discuss the University. "Dr. Allen," said the letter, "needs the support of a group of 'solid citizens' to uphold his action on this (the Davis) matter." Furthermore, the letter went on, "a pro-communist front activity on campus involving unsuspecting students" had recently been uncovered, and "there is the daily problem of extreme, liberal, atheistic teaching by those who feel they have a monopoly on the cry for 'academic freedom. 1 The letter implied that Dr. Allen was victimized by these extremists; we will compose a letter to Dr. Allen to be signed bythis group o" said the invitation from the Smiths. About twenty-five persons showed up for the April 9 meeting, \ including the mayor of Tampa. In Mrs Smith's words, "Their alarm over the facts presented was equal to our own. They felt we were up against many weighty problems serious enough to warrant investigation by those with the knowledge and ability to achieve I results; namely, the State Investigating. Commit tee (the so-called John. s Committee), and so they voted almost unanimously. The one or two dissenting equally alarmed, but considered the I alternative action of working on a local level; that is, with President Allen. The others felt it would not be fair to Dr. Allen to be caught in the middle of faculty and laymen, and that it was too big a job for any one man." Mrs. Smith continued, "Mayor Julian Lane volunteered to be the spokesman for the group, and the next day contacted Senator Johns, but after talking with Mr. Baya Harrison, chairman of the


76 State Board of Control, was persua.ded that the evidence should be presented to Dr. Allen. The group did not care to do this, as they had already been caught up in the investigation through efforts outside their own. In addition, a personality on campus had become involved, and we felt that for his protection, we must proc ed in the way voted upon b y the group. These quotations from Mrs. Smlth were part of an eleven-page document (later revised and expanded to more than thirty pages) which she filed with the attorney of the Johns Committee later that month. In the clear light of hindsight, they reveal the circumstances which drew for the first time the five principal opponents of the University. Jane Smith and her small group of followers joined forces with Thomas Wenner (the "personality on campus'' she to) and) with the help of Mayor Julian Lane, called for help from Senator Charley Johns I and his investigating commlttee. Wenner brought with him the support of the Zephyrhills News, and Sumter Lowry's Coalition of Patriotic Societies (which already was operating an "intelligence exchange" with the Zephyrhills paper) was well4epresented at the meeting by several members of ultra-rightwing organizations. '\. L u.fJ ; \ There was actually a sixth )U);t -ae.Bt e\hM"' l eaders 'Q the Tampa Bay Baptist Association---represented at the meeting by Melvin M. Martin, a 39-year-old Baptist preacher and former student at 0 a5iJ where one course.xmm Evidence indicates that J the Baptists had their watchful eye on the University long before any of the others joined in, and in later months they brought their grievances into the open. Mrs. Smith's written report went on to detail her charges that the University was soft on commun i sm, that many of the books


/ 77 used in courses were immoral and obscene, that many of the professors were vulgar and atheistic, and that socialism and racial integration were openly preached to the students. At the April 9 meeting in her home she had reiated these charges to those present, and after that night there was no turning back. In her own words, the group "had already been caught up in the investigation: and the new "coalition" had been formed. All t his took place without the knowledge of President Alleno Earlier, he had been contacted by Neil Smith; one of the co-signens of the letter.that led to the April 9 meeting, but a later meeting between Allen and a group of the dissidents failed to materialize when the gr'oup iBx did not show up After the April 9 meeting, Allen began to hear rumors that the Johns 6ommi ttee was coming to the c 'ampus, but almost six weeks passed before their presence became known. During that six-week period, the Zephyrhills News and the Coalition of P atriotic Societies bulletin---along with some other area newspapers which carried unlabeled editorials written by the Coalition---continued a steady stream of criticism directed toward the University. They EXXX&xam attacked the insitution's choice of visiting speakers (Dr Harold Taylor, former president of Sarah Lawrence College; Harlow Shapley, a Harvard astronomer; Harry Golden), and hammered away at XkK the alleged softness on Communism of the faculty. And a month before it was announced by the University, the planned appointment of Dr. D. F. Fleming as a lecturer in political George science was bitterly xxmmaxKI condemned by Wickstroin1s Zephyrhills paper. On March 30, Wickstrom said in a column that the Fleming w ould begin fall, and went on to call the professor's two-volume work, "The Cold War and


78 its Origins," an apology for Russia and Red China. Wickstrom's first article about Fleming caught the University by surprise. Only a f e w persons on the campus knew the retired Vanderbilt University professor being considered for a position, and no formal appointment had been made. Shaken by the internal disturbances and external critrici sms of the past the University gxB saw Wickstrom's new charges as yet another right wing pre,ssure, and on April 18 the University N ews Bureau, with the knowledg e and consent of President Allen, put out a story announcing Fleming's appointment as a part-time visiting lecturer for the fall term. The story detailed some of the more outstanding accomplishments of his distinguished career at Vanderbilt, and quoted Dr. Allen as saying the University is "fortunate to be able to attract such widely recognized scholars as Dr. '' The story was a deliberate attempt to serve notice on the conservatives that the U n iversity intended to withstand pressures against men of such caliber as Fleming. At the time, h i s appointment had not been. but his salary of $6,000 for a half-time teaching the minimum at which Board of Control approval was required, and there a ppeared no reason to doubt that the contract would soon be signed by the President. At approximately the same time, the University announced revisions in its procedure wbula be put into effect in the fall, and this bit of wel come news helped xmxcx briefly to clear t h e campus air of tension. A new dean of student affairs, Dr. Herbert J. Wunderlich, was appointed to replace Dean Howard Johnshoy, and this, to.o, proved to be popular with a large body 1 of whom Johnshoy seemed to be at an -impasse. At mid-April, these signs were hopefull y grasped by those who longed


79 for an upturn in morale and a respite from the co.nflicts of the w .inter, and even Wenner, now busy in his secret role in the investigation, appeared outwardly to be no longer interested in continuing his campus crusade. Investigators for the Johns Committee had quietly set up headquarters in a Tampa motel soon after the meeting at Jane Smith's house, but none of those who were aware of their presence informed' President Allen of it. Board of Control chairman Baya Harrison, who knew Charley Johns had been sent for, kept silent. So, too, did John Germany, the circuit judge who had played a leading role in getting the University in Tampa and now was president of the University of South Florida Foundation; his wife had been at the meeting in the Smith home, and had voted against calling on Senator Johns for assistance. Later in May, just two days before the committee investigation erupted into public print, Germany was re-elected unanimously to a second term as president of the Foundation. He said in his report t o the membership "The role of the University is to encourage ideas. At the same time the role of 'the community is to be flexible enough to accept new ideas. In between, the role of the Foundation is to act as a conduit between these two to induce understanding.'' Countless times in the trying months ahead the Foundation could have been an effective conduit; at best, it was a neutral body, and at worst it was an impediment to the institution. The conduit was clogged with fair-weather friends seeking refuge from the stor+n. From the April 9 meeting of Jane Smith's group until the Johns Committee investigation was revealed May 1 8 the stillness that many at the University incorrectly interpreted as a change was in reality a time when the opponents of the school


. Wenner by this time was working with Jane Smith, and soon afterwards with Charley Johns' investigators, and only secrecy of these deliberations kept his seething discontent in check. On April 28 he invited some 50 students to a luncheon at his home, and during the course of the day the students were questioned individually by Mrs. Smith, representatives of the Johns Committee. The satisfaction of such secret gatherings was not enough to keep him completely silent, however, and in his classes he continued to excoriate the University administration, singling out b y name those he considered his principal targets. Even his former friends on the faculty no longer supported him, and when he accused some of their number of being communists or fascists ____________----


were quietly marshaling strength for an all-out assault. It is not clear exactly when the investigators for the Johns Committee first began taking evidence in Tampa, nor is it certain who first enlisted their aid for a probe of the University of South Florida. But whatever the facts in these matters, it remained for Thomas J B. Wenner to blast the 80 investigation into the open. The month of April was a bad one for Wenner. After his Forum outbursts, his role in the registration controversy and the appearance of the Zephyrhills articles, he had completely severed any amicable relationship with the administration. The summer workshop for teachers of the course o n Communism was then cancelled by the state extension division in favor of a series, and Wenner viewed this as a deliberate attempt to force him out of his job. When Dr. Allen named a six-man faculty committee to work with Tampa's educational television station on preparation of the course series he excluded Wenner, and the Zephyrhills N ews promptly blasted the University out for leaving "the man who was sent to USF from tell the truth'' adding, Unless the legislators who voted for this patriotic effort (the course on Communism) want to be made fools of, they had better make some inquiries and soon." Wenner by this time was working with Jane Smith, and soon afterwards with Charley Johns 1 investigators, and only the of his discontent ')..8 k 0 lC "'nU.d -H e could not keep completely ,silent, however, and in his classes he continued to excoriate the University administration in general .i J _., and certain of its individual members in particular. Even his former friends on the faculty no longer supported him, and when he accused some of their number of being communists or fascists tu-u> 1.-<:n... t.l....L


Representative c:Srge Stallings. in addition 'to hils authorship of the law requiring the course, was also a member of the Johns Committee. Wenner said several .students had been threatened with expulsion for participating in the Forums, --'>


81 American Association of University Professors threatening to make it public ifhe continued his ,irrational and irresponsible behavior. Finally, after xk& another Zephyrhills article championing Wenner, Allen notified him that his appointment on the faculty would be terminated at the end o f the fall term. His estrangement f rom the University faculty and administration was now complete; all that remained was for him to prepare his parting shot. On May 16, he was ready. The University still was not aware of the Johns Committee's presence, though rumors &Q'1k continued t o circulate, and a mounting uneasiness filled the campus. A primary runoff election for Hillsboroug h County's new eongressional seat was less than two weeks away, and final exams at the University were scheduled for about the same time. On the afternoon of Xki Wednesday, the 16th, Wenner called Don Baldwin, execmtive editor of the St. Petersburg Times, and said he wanted to give the paper an some troubles at the University. Baldwin invited him over, and when he arrived Wenner was turned over to reporter Lowell Brandle. In a rambling discourse that lasted more than an hour, Wenner poured out his sou l into Brandle's tape recorder. Among other t hings, he said the Johns Committee had been secretly investigating the U n iversity for six weeks, \..._ '6J looking and accommodation of the Soviet V n ion; he was fearful the. University, the educational television station (WED U ) and the State Department of Education were watering down the course on Communism without the public's knowledge; and he said"he was on his way to Jacksonvilleto t"eveal this plot to 1 fA..w tt.u.-w-u r Representative George Stalling s A\)I& said several students had. &.been threatened with expulsion for participating in the Forums,


82 and. ventured the opinion that the registration program he had attacked was "an unconscionable and indefensible procedure of shock treatment under the heading of experimental education." All in all, he said, the University qf South Florida was "a campus of evil," and the investigation would result in the dismissal of Allen and "ten to thirteen11 deans and othertop personnel. 11We've been working hard from seven to midnight every night on t'his, 11 he said, a dding, "I 1m committed' to assist in this cleanup,11 w hich "will be one of the most thorough housecleanings in American educational history." Wenner said he qad persuaded Jane Smith and her followers not to take their grievances to Allen, but to deal with the J ohns Committee instead. 11Lots of people talk a nice anti-Communism, but nobody's doing anything," he said, and went on to a d d that the University should be closed until it was cleaned u p N o halfway measures or private deals will do," 1 he said. "This thing should break publicly." And he confided that the committee was planning a public hearing on the investigation in Tam p a May 2 8 Finally,. after some slander,ous statements about Allen and others at the University Wenner urged the Times to bring the story into the open and at last he left to keep his Jacksonville appointment with Stallings. The Times, after a day of deliberation, decided to run as much o f the story as it considered not libelous, and on May 1 8 the Johns Committee investigation of the University became a public controversy Before examining the investigation itself, it should be I edifying to look for a moment a t the date Wenner said the Johns Committee would hold its p u b lic hearing---May 2 8---and an interesting side issue that related to it.


83 Earlier in the spring, State Representative Robert T. Mann, a very able Tampa lawyer, had announced his candidacy for County's newly created Congressional seat. Mann, a supporter of LeRoy Collins and a popular vote-getter, was considered a favorite for the post. Dick Bacon, a Tampa city councilman, also was in the race, and they were soon joined by State Senator Sam M the man who was identified as the "father" of the University of South Florida and, until then, a friend and political ally of Mann's. Mann immediately charged that Gibbons had earlier promised not to enter the race, and while the two argued that point a fourth candidate---Sumter L. Lowry-tossed his into As the qualifying deadline for the Democratic primary approached, it. appeared that Mann and Gibbons were heavy favorites to win their way into a runoff. Here entered the fifth candidate, a young Tampa fireman and political unknown named Ken Ayres. On the day he qualified, Ayers his platform into I the newsroom of the Tampa Tribune and freely asked for advice on how to campaign. When he was told that money was a primary necessity, Ayers laughed and said that was $Omething he didn't \.... \\.o..u.--. o.:t J J haveo H e then proceeded to spend almost himself If anyone knew where Ayers got his money, the word never got out. This, though, was the mo t popular theory: Mann and Gibbons, the nearest 1!1 h-;/ among the original four contenders, were also the most popular vote-getters; Bacon, ( a conservative, was not well enough known to divide their vote, and Lowry, the most conservative of all, appeared not to have a chance to make the runoff. Enter' from the wirigs an unknown


84 {t_,4,i campaigner whose with an A (placing him first on the ballot, ahead of Bacon) and whose enough to attract a large portion of the Mann-Gibbons vote. Result: Lowry moved up to trail Gibbons i n the first primary b eating Mann by about 3,000 Ayers ran fourth, but got almost 12,000 votes in his losing effort, and Bacon ran a poor fifth. Did Lowry secretly put Ayers into the race to assure himself of a spot in the runoff?, N o one ever happy-go-lucky Ayers returned to obsnurity on the fire trucks, '-..ffv C l t I t l was k e ongress1ona p1c ure. n es 1ng y enough, Ayers ran for another office the following year, 'and the liberalism of his first ,campaign was conspicuously absent. S

85 the control of anyone at this point, swinging desperately and frantically, and suddenly not even his newfound partners in intrigu e wanted anything to do with him. With dispatch, Gover nor Bryant's office announced that was being dismissed "effective immediately, or as soon as the Board of Control can find (him) to tell him." At the ,same time, President Allen I suspended Wenner---unaware that the Governor was entering the picture---and asked the Board of Control to dismiss him immediately. In the confusing days that led up to the first story of the investigation in the Times, Dr. definitely that the committee was in Tampa. On Wednesday---the day Wenner went to St. Petersburg---Allen confirmed that investigator R. J. Strickland, attorney Mark Hawes and other members of the committee staff had been housed in a plush Tampa motel for at least six weeks, taking testimony from students and-preparing for the public hearing. At a strategy meeting of University administrators, Allen decided to call the moteland invite the committee into the open, hoping the glare of the public eye would keep them in bounds. After much delay and maneuvering, the committee staff agreed to come. Allen rejected advice to take the story to the press the offensive, but xxtiX the next day he learned of Wenner's move apd from then on it was out of his hands to control. The competing strategies of the committee and the University, the entrance of the press into the picture, the Governor's action and the impending election all collided, and the University's severest trial by fire was ignited.


86 The weekend which began May 18 saw each or the combatants in the unrolding drama bracing ror the right. These are some or the kaleidoscopic events leading up to Monday, May 21: \ {r .President Allen, having decided to bring the investigators onto the campus and into the open, was operating on the theory that an investigation conducted on campus with the knowledge or the community was bound to be better ror the University than one conducted secretly in a downtown motel. The. appearance or the Wenner story brought a rlood of calls to the President, and having already been assured that the committee would move out to the campus, he was prepared. "We have nothing to hide," he told the press and others who called. "We welcome any proper investigation that woul d help the public know our entire racul ty, their quality and ideals I am very proud or them." Allen then began to prepare his moves the coming week. The Johns Committee, having enjoyed six weeks or secret inquiry, now round itselr suddenly smoked into the open by Allen's call and the ensuing Times article on the investigation. R. J. Strickland, a bull-necked and beady-eyed former policeman who served as the committee's chier investigator, was so startled b y Allen's call that he had dirriculty answering. Finally he said he would call the president right back, and in a rew minutes Mark Hawes, the committee's ruddy-faced attorney, was on the phone. Arter a brier conversation he agreed to come out and meet with Allen, and at their subsequent meeting the attorney to \. )'K_c.__!t_ certain ground rulesJwhich Allen public. Hawes left the meeting thinking he still held the threat or public exposure


87 as a weapon to hold over the University, but the Times story ended all that. With its appearance, the committee's strategy was laid bare, and the all-important public hearing, which Hawes had not mentioned to Allen, now stood o .ut as a prominent motive for the investigation. Hawes was uncommunicative to the press who then began calling him, and Charley Johns, when finally reached at his Carolina vacation retreat, would only deny any alliance with Wenner, saying "no comment" to other questions. -!!--Jane Smith and Thomas Wenner, however, were not so reluctant to talk. Mrs. Smith, whose name had not thus far been mentioned publicly, told the Tampa Times that Wenner's charges were "sadly true." She charged the University with using teaching materials that were pornographic and anti-religious, and said she and her committee of citizens had turned all their findings over to the Johns 6ommittee. Wenner, who was notified by special-delivery letter of his suspension by the president, could not be reached by reporters, but he called the St. Petersburg Times -to thank them for their story and to register his suspicions of Hawes. The Times, seeing the shape of the story as it unfolded, calmly fed Wenner a rope and he proc'eeded t o tighten it around himself, the John:! Committee and, by implication, Congressional candidate Lowry. 'press reacted quickly. The Tampa Tribune, in a Saturday editorial, supported Allen's action in bringing the committee into the open, where the burden of proof for. any wrongdoing would rest on the fairly arrived at findings of the committee rather than on innuendo. The editorial questioned the authority of the committee to intrude in the University's internal affairs, and criticized Wenner and the parents who were involved in the inquiry. The St. Petersburg Times, being more blunt, charged Wenner and Lowry,


88 a "congressional candidate of the General Edwin Walker 'type," with responsibility for the investigation, praised Gove rnor Bryant for suspending Wenner, and called the entire episode a "witch h unt." By Monday, it appeared that a budding conspiracy against the University was being scattered in confusion by the University's open-door stance the hot light of the press. Both the University's student government and the AAUP chapter issued strong statements condemning the Johns Committee's secretive and those who had instigated the investigation, and commending Allen for his positmon. Board of Control chairman Harrison cautiously said the committee was legally authorized to conduct investigations and he urged calmness, saying the board would not "voluntarily permit any unwarranted interference with the proper conduct and administration of the university by its president and faculty." J ohns and Hawes almost frantically denied that Wenner was working with them. "I was sympathetic with him at first," Johns admitted, then added, "Now we have our doubts." Hawes was even more rattled. I m not going to get into any public hassle with this fellow. I don't care what he says." Neither man would say exactly what the committee was investigating, but Wenner and Jane Smith repeatedly listeq s oftness on C o mmunism, homosexuality, anti-religious teaching and obscene literature as the major items. Johns even denied that Wenner had instigated the probe, and after first confirming that a public hearing might be held on May 28, he later changed the date to May 31. Students on the campus quickly began to satirize the investigation, and humorous signs and placards began to a ppear. Clearly the first ro-und had gone to the University. /


. 89 President Allen opened the new week with another surprise. About a thousand faculty and students, hastily called to a special meeting in the University theatre, were greeted by a brief speech by the president, tealing them what promises the committee had made to him and what their rights were in dealing with the committee. Treating the committee as an official body empowered to conduct proper investigations, Allen recounted his meeting with Hawes, saying the University had pledged cooperation. In return, he said, "The committee's attorney has assured me of three things: (1) that at least half our faculty will be questioned, thus assuring a broad and representative sampling of its quality and character; (2) that a court reporter will I be present to record all proceedings; and (3) that the entire investigation will,be fairly and impartially conducted." Allen then elaborated: "If you are asked to testify, you may insist upon having a tape recorder, a witness of your own choosing, or your own legal counsel. If you feel you are being unfairly questioned in any way, you may refuse to answer, and I would appreciate it if you would inform me of any such unfair questioning if it should occur. Y o u may refuse to be questioned in any place other than the conference room set.a?ide for that purpose. You do not I have to go to their off-campus quarters, or submit to questioning at night or at odd hours. Also, if you are asked to answer yes or no to a series of rapid questions, you may insist on answering them one at ax a time, and you may add your own statement of elaboration wherever you feel it would be necessary." Allen also said he had not been informed of any individuals


90 who were suspected of any wrongdoing, and told the faculty that being called to testify was no indication that any such suspicion existed. The president commended the students for their healthy and humorous response to the episode, and then concluded with this statement: "It is unfortunate that the narrow prejudices of a few unthinking people should precipitate this trial so early in the history of the University. Let me assure you, however, that the burden of proof of any wrongdoing by any member o f this institution not on any one of us but on those who have raised the issue. You are innocent until proved guilty in my eyes, and I trust all who have the best interests of the University and the state at heart will feel likewise. I appreciate your cooperation and your faithful service to this in'sti tution. With your help, this unfortunate incident could ironically become an important solidifying factor in the development and maturity of the University of South Florida.'' From the University's standpoint, May 21 was probably the brightest day in the months-long struggle against the commi ttee Allen's speech was itself a solidifying factor, and faculty members who had been dis mayed by the registration and Jerome Davis issues seemed now to be united in support of.the president and ready to resist any outside pressures. An attorne y was retained b y the AAUP chapter to advise faculty more precisely on their legal rights, and the student body, quickly getting into the spirit of I things, b egan posting how-to-do-it instructions for book burning and circulating p oems and song s l ike this one, to the tune of "Glory, Glory Hallelujah! 11:


\ The Johns Committee cometh For to save us all from sin, To lift the degr tlation And this Godless stati we're in, To cleanse the halls of learning Of filth and ver(a)min. And they will, by God, they will! Glory, Glory, : down with Steinbeck! Glory, Glory, down with Huxley! Glory, Glory, down with Voltaire! And include Bill Faulkner too! 91 The other, baudier, verses indicated clearly the mood of the students and their mocking contempt for the committee A remark often heard on the campus in the afterglow of Allen's talk was one to the effect that the Johns Committee was better than a football team for generating esprit d'corps. But the spirit was not to last. On Wednesday, the St. Petersburg Times retracted its implication of Sumter Lowry under threat of a law suit, and the same day Johns and his cohorts spoke 'Wiith the .first time, all o.f _them saying the public I hearing i.f held at all, would not be before May 30. Wenner and Jane Smith also issued statements, and most of the contradictions "'. of the weekettd g h Also on Wednesday, after a delay questionin of of almost a week during nUmber of students continued at the committee's motel, the committee came on to the campus for the first time and began taking testimony. Senator Johns George Stallings ana at least one other member court reporter and a University employee equipped with a tape recorder. Meanwh ile, members o.f the University administration sought vainly to get Sam Gibbons to speak out in support o.f the institution, but Gibbons considered himself comfortably ahead of Lvwry in the race .for the Congressional seat, and he shied away from any controversy that might cut into his lead. "Just


92 hold your head high. You've got nothing to b e ashamed of," he said repeatedly, but he was unwilling to do as much. Whether he was uncertain of the University's innocence or its strength to resist pressure, whether he was not sure that Lowry was involved or whether for s9me other. reason, Gibbons, like his friend John Germany had done earlier, was eager, only to look the other way and hope the May 28 election would arrive before he became involved in the controversy. Lowry, in no position to let a chance Xm pass to place blame on his opponent, did just that. mfxXmK Going on information from Jane Smith that Gibbons had once been appealed to by her group and had sought to brnng them together with Allen, Lowry charged that Gibbons had known of the \ said impending investigation long before it started, and that Gibbons had failed to tell the public of his part in it. Furthermore, the general said, Gibbons K.llll had allowe d rumors to spread that Lowry was involved.' "I had nothing to do, directly or indirectly, with the investigation. I know nothing whatsoever about the changes that have been brought," Lowry said. Gibbons could only reply lamely, "He .says he didn't, so I believe him." Gibbons denied any role in the investigation himself, and cri t icized Lowry for trying to make an issue of it. But he would not defend the University, and did not Jl][ directly do so even after the election. On the second day the committee was present on the campus, Charley Johns went before the press for the first time to speak about the investigation. The mild-mannered and dapperly dressed senator spoke and diction evoking snickers from members of the press. He said the committee would talk to "40 or 50" members of the faculty before they were through,


I 93 and after listing the types of complaints they had received he added the accusations "are true to a certain extent." The Tampa Tribune was saying editorially by now that the Board of Control, not the Johns Committee, was responsible for administration of the state universities, and the the Governor :tm and responsible legislators to "insist that the job of supervising the universities be returned to .the agencies established for that purpose." But both the Board of Control and Governor Bryant, in the pattern of Sam Gibbons and John Germany, were not to heed that editorial call for action, and herein xiix lay the weakness which almost caused the downfall of the University. The University did what it could to defend itself, and to its good fortune it had newspaper p reporters and television cameramen watching every move, as well as two of the state's most influential giving strong editorial support; but the Board of Control, the Governor, the local legislative delegation, the University Foundation and Congressional candidate Gibbons all were looking the other way when the University called for help. On the attack, in addition to the Johns Committee, were Jane Smith and her compatriots, Wenner, the Zephyrhills News (with a four column front page editorial) and Lowry's Coalition of Patriotic Societies, which continued its assault on Dr. D. F. Fleming in a resolution saying he xxx had11demonstrated his opposition to the American way of life by his affiliations with Communist front groups Mayor Julian Lane of Tampa also joined in, telling a r .eporter he was the one who contacted Charley Johns for Mrs. Smith and her friends. Two days before the election, the Tribune carried a letter from an unidentified student who said Lowry had told him on

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94 May 6, two weeks before the investigation became public, that the University was "overrun with Communism and atheism," and that "when the fight starts, I want you to stand up and be counted on the right side." Lowry promptly denied the student's charge in a letter appearing in the Tribune the next day, saying he had been in Boston on the day the conversation was alleged to have taken place. Gibbons, still cautiously protecting his lead, remained silent and won the election by a comfortable majority. Even so, Lowry was lucky. No member of the press ever asked Johns if Lowry or the Coalition played any part in the probe, and no proof was ever presented to affirm this connection. General Lowry withdrew into obscurity after the election and no further word was heard from him, although the Coalition continued through its publications to attack the University. Johns also td:.. its duration, its cost (including the plush motel headquarters of the committee staff) and the allegation that the committee was paying student informers to report to them. On June 6, after two weeks of on-and-off questioning on the campus, the committee concluded with a six-hour interrogation of Dr. Allen. Johns told reporters that day "I will say we haven't found too much wrong at this beautiful universityo" He also said some 20 faculty members, 25 or 30 private citizens and eight to ten students had been questioned, and indicated the interrogations would be completed the next day. Asked if he felt the press had been biased or had treated him unfairly, :X he replied, "I know I1ve been treated unfairly, but the press is always biased against Charley Johns." The next day's meeting, held in the Hillsborough County Courthouse, concluded

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95 with testimony from Wenner, and when it was over Johns handed the press a prepared statement. I t said in part: "The Bommittee has made a 'gentleman's agreement' with the Board of Control, the duly authorized body to administe r the U n iversity o f South Florida, under which it has agreed to conduct this investigation in executive session and make available to the B oard the testimony gathered so that the Board may act where the evidence justifies action. The Committee expects to complete the taking of testimony this week. It will have looked into all the charges made known to it w hen the taking of testimony is complete. The testi mony and the Committee's comments thereon will be turned over to the Board of Control as soon as it is transcribed. I t would not be proper, under the Committee's agreement with the Board of C ontrol, for the to comment specifically on its findings before the Board of Control h a d the opportunity to act." The statement went on to say the committee had found "some serious and substantial matters whicho requires and demands corrective action by the Board I of Control and the University Administration." The charg e that the University was "a campu s of eyil," however, "cannot be sustained by the evidence," the statement concluded. And thus the Jor ills Committee departed, leaving in its wake a young University shaken by its ordeal yet ironically united by the assault from without. Letters to the editor flooded into the Tribune, the majority of them supporting the University, and editorial support continued to be strong I t is of interest to note that James Clendinen, editor and chief editorial writer of the Tribune, was a brother-in-law of Bay a Harrison the Board of Control chairma n who drew the Tribune's criticism f,or not actively defending the university and assuming responsibility

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96 for its administration. Aside from the invaluable outside support of the Tribune and the St. Petersburg Times and the many letters to the editor, students at the University demonstrated their continued approval of the institution when they sent a \p:e bearing signatures almost half the Eimxxmxtk& entire student bodyQ.'to=th Ssesli me. And the AAUP, aware of the Coalition's new attack on Dr. Fleming and of the Johns Committee's questioning about the Vanderbilt professor, sent President Allen a resolution faculty. Jane Smith, l!f!lt.-{(_ original eleven-page report to the Johns Committee with another twenty pages of rambling and confused counter-charges and circulated it among her friends and other potential converts. It was a full of self-pity, and it served as f6otnote to an already-bizarre spring T homas Wenner, his fury again apparently spent, was not heard from until late summer. The semester ended at the University, and at mid-June there was a calm. What motivated the principal attackers of the University of South Florida? things. Thomas Wenner was perhaps moved by a feeling of insecurity and distrust (but then again, perhaps it is not possible to categorize so mercurial a personality); and ideas Jane Smith was frustrated by literature sne could not understand, and therefore suspected; George Wickstrom hated anything liberal, and like Sumter Lowry and the Coalition, saw a Communist under every bed; and Charley Johns, pushed by an investigative staff which had to produce a few scapegoats to earn its keep, was easily made to be disturbed by allegations of homosexuality and religious downgrading. 'There were other motivations: some who joined

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97 the attack still nursed grievances because the University had quietly; others were prejudiced against the Jews on the University's faculty; and a great many simply disliked the NxXxm institution because it was a threat to the University of old (com aratively), Tampa. The University of Tampa was a small, conservative, private, segregated Tootball school; the University of South Florida, by contrast, was a large, new, liberal, public, integrated institution without and on every count it made at \ least a few enemies. Outside the community, many persons, including some of the legislators on the Johns Committee saw the new University as a threat to the two north Florida state Universit.ies which had served so long, and'others K disliked John Allen personally or wanted their communities to get new plums such as universities. And all these motivations, plus others, combined to foster a kind of unspoken feeling that this ripe new university could be had, that it could be toppled. Had the five principals been able to funnel their energies more efficiently, their informal and hastily built alliance might have become a conspiracy, and they might have sue ceeded. They might, for example, have played upon Governor Bryant's vision of the University as a product of LeRoy Collins, and induced him to actively assist them; they might have sold the Baptist Church on a crusade to clean up the University's reading materials and purge the "anti-religious" professors; they might even have whetted the desires of persons within the University whose ambitions made them covet higher administrative positions. But before the five principals could do these things, they 0 become more mono lithic in their own desires, and it was here that they failed. For each of them kll wanted something

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98 help from its friends, got help from its enemies, for while they tripped over one another's dangling interests at the crucial time when the investigation became public, the University was able to line defenses and prepare to ride out the storm. Had the University of South Florida's troubles ended -with the departure of the Johns Committee, the institution would have been declared the winner in its confrontation with the powerful legislative group. The University, to be sure, was far from unmarked; it had given val b?:i ground in the cancellation of Jerume_Davis, and it had noticeably shown the effects of outside pressure in other ways. But it had also called the bluff of the Legislature's most powerful and most feared committee, and when the commi _ttee was f?rce, d into the open its effectiveness as a body was diminished. The committee, when it, left to prepare its report for the Board of was widely condemned by the press for conducting a politically-inspired but fruitless investigation, and the University appeared as the weary but victorious combatant. One loose thread---disposition of the dispute over D. F. Fleming---remained for the University. Before reviewing that, however, some explanation should be given of the background and structure of the Johns Committee, both to cliarify earlier mention of the committee_ here and to precede further discussion of role with respect to the University. The Johns Committee---officially the Florida Legislative Investigation Committee---was formed during a special session

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99 of the Legislature in 1956 to investigate racial disturbances in the state. During its first year of existence, the committee, under the chairmanship of Representative Henry Land of Orange County, got credit for exposing xkB and driving race-agitator out of the state. That one accomplishment the committee's lone service to the state, in the opinion of many persons, but it was enough to i nduce the Legislature to re-create the committee in 195 7 Senator Charley Johns was named chairman, and the vaguely-worded law authorized the committe e to "make investigations of the activities in this state of organizations and individuals advocating violence or a course of conduct which would constitute a violation of the laws of Florida." No reference was made to of Communism, Nazism, or homosexuality, and no police powers were given to the committee, but authority was given to subpoena witnesses and the comm ittee was directed to report its findings to the Legislature "to the end t hat corrective legislation may be adopted if found necessary to correct any abuses against the peace and dignity of the state." The first biennial appropriation for expenses of the committee was $65,000. In 195 8 Senator Johns and his c olleagues showed how far they could stretch the intent of the committee's e nabling act. At the University of conducted a long undercover investigation the campus, and in Miami that same year a much-publicized search for Communists in the ranks of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People showed clearly that the Legislature had created a powerful body it would have difficulty in controlling.

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100 In Miami, the committee attempted to smear and discredit the NAACP b y seeking to establish that thirteen named Communists in the area had belonged to the civi l rights group. The American Civil Liberties Union supported the NAACP in its denial of the Johns Committee's charges and contested the powers of the committee in court proceedings that ultimately resulted in victory for the NAACP before the bar of the United States Supreme Court. The Supreme Court's decision involved just one of many complicated and technical arguments that made up the overall struggle between the legislative committee and the civil rights group, but it represented one of only two times that any facet of the activities was ever \ At the University of Florida, the took a different tack. Under a veil of secrecy, it intimidated some fifteen professors and administrators whom it suspected of homosexuality and threatened them with public hearings that would ruin their reputations whether or not the unsubstantiated charges could be proved. No names of the accused individuals ever reached print, but most of them left the university, and Johns, who in \ lost out to LeRoy Collins in the race for governor6 CL &.4 tt.c.L....:...jl used power of his committee establish as the ) most feared politiciab in the state. Having gone to the university in search of subversives, Johns and his cohorts decided that homosexuality would be more fertile ground, and they found that fear of public exposure was a powerful weapon to force ouster of any persons they considered "unde:sirable," for whatever reason. Furthermore, the committee also learned that even though the law

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101 did not authorize it to delve into such matters as the private lives of individuals, these a uthorizations would be given retroactively by a Legislature afraid to question such activity for fear of being labeled "subversive" or "queer." In 195 9 and a gain in 1961, the committee was recreated by the Legislature, and its appropriation was increased to $ 75,000. Charley Johns enjoyed the power his committee brought him, but two other persons were even bigger beneficiaries of of the group's scare tactics. Mark Hawes, committee legal counsel, and R. J. Strickland, chief investigator, were called "the highest paid (public) employees in Florida" by the American Civil Liberties Union after the ACLU1s encounter with the committee in 195 8 Hawes, said the ACLU, received $30, 249.78 i n $861 in per diem, $1,100 in travel reimbursement and $56 6 for "payment to confidential informants whose names are known to no during the t hree-year period ended June 30, 1960. Strickland, in the same three-year period, got $21,642.74 in $545.01 in per diem, more than $8,000 in travel expenses and $5,476.97 for payment to informers, the ACLU said. Thus Strickland, the former Leon County deputy sheriff and sometime gumshoe for a string of enforcement agencies, made almost $36,000 spearheading a three-year, state-sanctioned witch hunt; in the ensuing three years, his "take" would be even higher. By the s pring of 196 2 when the Johns Committee took on the University of South Florida, it was unchallenged as the Legislature's most powerful committee, a virtual Frankenstein's monster beyond the control of anyone. Legislators and other public officials who raised objections to its tactics or its

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activities ran the risk of being branded "subversive" or "deviate;" victims faced possible public pillory for acts they had not in fact engage d in; and Johns, his fellow committee members and his staff disposed of close 102 to a quarter of a million dollars in six years while into the most private thoughts and acts of hundreds of unsuspecting citizens. It is difficult to understand how seven men and t heir hired assistants could so completely intimidate any and all persons who opposed them but the Johns Committee, between the time of its creation in 1956 and the start of its siege at the University of South Florida in 1962, managed to do just that. With the exceptions of the American Civil Liberties Union in 1958 and three Pinellas County school teachers in 1961, \ no one challenged the authority of the committ e -even though it continued to extend its in the confidence that each succeeding Legislature would give its ex post facto blessing. Even the Governor and his Cabinet were not immune from the pressures of the committee. When the 1961 legislative appropriation of $75,000 dwindled rapidly, the Cabinet pledged in January of 1962 to make additional funds available to the committee when needed. Thus, in June of 1962---the same month the committee departed from Tampa and its and criticized investigation of the University of South Florida---the State Cabinet, with Governor Farris Bryant presiding, approved an "emergency" appropriation of $67,150 to the committee to tide it over in {Jy "Ll the last year of the biennium. A grand total of two years beginning July 1 1961---most of it in the

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103 futile search for Communists, deviates and atheists at the University of South Florida---and no one except a handful of citizens and a few newspapers dared to mmBXXmxXkBxEBfKExe protest or even to question the comm ittee's authority. When the Johns Committee left the campus early members of the University community itself, were three newspapers---the Tampa Tribune, the St. Petersburg Times and the Daytona Beach Journal-News---a television station---WTVT in Tampa---and about persons who wrote letters of support to the newspapers and signed their names to them. The committee, with a slick-tongued shady dealing criminal lawyer and a discredited ex-cop in the driver's seat, had a big b udget to be spent without the scrutiny of the state auditor, and it also had unfettered license to probe virtually anywhere it wished without fear of protest. With five investigators---one of them a woman---and a state-wide network of secret informers, the committee was at the height of its power when it came to the University of South Florida and confronted, for the first time, an institution that defended itself in the open.xgxnxxxXkE Faced with the Johns Committee's assault wh1ch Thomas Wenner, Jane Smith and others had inspired, the University of South Florida had to choose whether it would submit silently to a secret probe or lay open its entire campus to public investigation. On the assumption.that the committee would conduct itself properly only if it were being watched, the University chose a public defense, feeling it had nothin& to hide in a fair and responsible inquiry. Whether it chose wisely is a moot point, but one thing is sure: given the power of the

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104 committee, the fearful silence of Governor Bryant and his cabinet, the timidity of the Board of Control and other public officials, and the inherent vulnerability o f the young university, a secret probe without restraints of any kind would have allowed the committee to destroy the institution without proof of fault. As it was, the two-month battle between the new University and the feared committee ended in a blaze of publicity, with the committee seemingly eager to get out of town and back to secrecy and the University battered but unbowed, its faculty and student body ironically more united than ever before. But the University if it had gained a decision in the the case of Dr. D. F Fleming, the Vanderbilt professor of political science whose a pproaching appointment had so stirred the wrath of the right wing. The President had approved a news release announcing Fleming's appointment before he had signed his appointment papers, but then he discovered that the proposed salary for the professor---$6,000 for half-time teaching---would require Board of Control approval. The total salary did not exceed the $10,000 figure at which Board approval was required, but the rate of pay---equivalent to $12,000 for full-time---was above the approval line, and Dr. Allen decided to wait for a more advantageous time to seek the Board's approval. \the) Repeatedly duringxxx investigation, Johns Committee attorney Mark Hawes had ad about Fleming, and Allen, when he was asked, had the answers. He had checked with the u S. Attorney General, the House Un-American Activities

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105 Committee and the Senate Internal Security Committee, and all of them reported unequivocally that they had no record of Communist or subversive affiliations on the part of D. F Fleming. Hawes and the B ommittee seemed unconvinced. Meanwhile, the University's appointment procedures were already in motion. University policy from the beginning had specified that the deans merely recommend new faculty for appointment, with the president actually making the formal appointment, but practical necessity had evolved a more loose-knit and unwritten procedure whereby prospective faculty were virtually assured of positions by the time the deans nominated them to the president to be confirmed. At the time of the Fleming case, President Allen had never refused to confirm the appointment of a faculty member recommended to him. Consequently, Dr. Fleming had visited the campus, met with Dean Russell Cooper and other chairmen and faculty members, and been told, for all practical purposes, that he was hired. Fleming proceeded to make arrangements for purchasing a house and some furniture, and later settled with Cooper the courses he wo uld teach. Cooper then submitted Fleming's a p pointment papers to Allen for rubber-stamp approval, confident that the president's statement of praise for Fleming in the press was assurance that no difficulty would be encountered. ersistent question of the Johns Committee and the continued attacks on Fleming by Lowry's Coalition and Wickstrom's Zephyrhills News made Allen hesitate before he signed the appointment papers and sent them into the Board of Control's red tape mill for approval. Fleming's long and distinguished career at Vanderbilt was xkmxa exemplary; his two-volume work o n the Cold War, while

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106 for attacked by the right by reviewers such papers as the New York Times, the Chicag o Tribune, the Washington Star and the Atlanta Constitution; his loyalty was unquestioned by even the most vigilant agencies; yet the attacks and the questions continued, and President Allen, knowing the timidity of the Board of Control, chose to wait until the committee was gone before submitting Fleming's papers for approval. _D While waited, the University treated 81 '6 in the same a its other new appointees. He receive d lette'rs of welcome from several divisions, and the personnel office mailed him packets of materials acquainting him with the University and the And, on the fiscal 1963 line-item budget of the University, Fleming was a ssigned a p osition. Every conceivable step to bring him into the University community was taken, with the lone exception of JohnS. Allen's signature and the B oard of Control action that would follow it. Finally, on June 21, President Allen sent Fleming's papers to the Board of Control, preparatory to placing his name on the agenda for approval at the next meeting. Five days later, the president received in the mail a copy of a letter addressed to Mrs. Nary Low Weaver of Orlando and signed by Dr. Harvie Branscomb, chancellor of Vanderbilt University The letter said: "I read with interest the copy of News & Views which you sent me, and was very much interested in it. I do not think Dr. Fleming is, or has been, a Communist, but I think he is an individual who has gone sour over the years, and has lost his perspective and his balance of judgment. Vanderbilt University,

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by Dr. Sam B. Smith, a USF history profe sor and student of Fleming's, and by several department chairnen, deans and professors at Vanderbilt, no earlier eammun1catian had beeQ

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107 of course, does not subscribe to the views of all of its 750 professors; neither do we defend them against criticisms which they bring on themselves. Professor Fleming was retired a year ago in spite of his request for continuation. You will be interested to know that he is transferring this next fall to Tampa, Florida, where he will teach in some institution there." Dr. Fleming had been highly recommended to Dean Cooper by deans, department chairmen and professors in Vanderbilt's received from Branscomb, whose was imminent and whose dislike for Dr. Fleming spanned many years. President Allen, knowing the conservatives who objected to Fleming would not fail to send the chancellor's letter to the Board of Control, had until the July 19 Board meeting to decide wh t to C")\.. b J The president called Branscomb on the phone and chancellor reiterated orally the opinions expressed in his ,_.Q_ letter. During with members of the Board, at which they indicated their fear of Fleming their disinclination to approve his appointment, Allen decided not to put the professor's approval. Instead, he asked Dean his appointment would not be asked of the Board of Control. The president's position was indeed an uncomfortable one. While Fleming's loyalty and professional competency were beyond question, there was no doubt that he was a controversial person whose liberal views had often aroused opposition. Furthermore, the pressures of the right wing, the persistent doubts of the Johns Committee and the damaging statements of Chancellor Branscomb

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108 made it certain that the Board of Control, in its fearful anxiety, would seize on the chancellor's letter as justification for refusing the appointment. president was as much as told that by members of the Board. But on the other hand, a clear commitment had been made to Fleming by Cooper, and the University's chapter of AAUP had already gone o n record urging the president to consummate the agreement. And 1there was the all-important news release, now two months past, announcing Fleming's appointment and quoting Allen in a warm welcom e to the professor. Dr. Allen, in choosing between loss of Fleming and an open. fight with the Board of Control, took what appeared to him the path of least resistance. He rejected any admission of a to Fleming and stuck to the ....... the appointment could not exist in fact until he signed the papers and them by the Board. (Actually, the presence of Fleming's name on a line item in the University budget made it necessary for termination papers to be quietly processed through the Bmrd at a later date.) In rejecting Fleming, Dr. appeared to give in to the demands of extremists who had nothing more substantial against the professor than a dislike for his personal views, and in the process the president gave more support to the University's conservative detractors than to Dean Cooper and the faculty. It was a decision that was to cause him much grief in the months ahead. During the summer, the University's fortunes rose and fell in the balance of events. On the positive side was a laudatory report from a visiting group of educators conducting an evaluation for the

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109 Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, official accrediting body for Southern Though the University would not be eligible for formal accreditation until it had graduated three classes, the visitors had come to inspect the new institution's progress, and their report was full of praise. They called the faculty "young, excellently qualified, and in training equal if not superior to that of any university in the region." The University also received I tentative approval of its proposal for an educational television channel, and in a formal report to the Board of Control requested approval in future years of an engineering school, a medical school and a branch campus in St. Petersburg. These hopeful signs of expansion and growing strength seemed to indicate that the University was moving beyond its painful trials to a new plateau of development. But beneath the surface, the institution's health was far from good. President Allen attempted in vain to gain support or its abolition at the next session of the Legislature." Allen's proposed statement specifically charged the committee with secretly questioning unchaperoned students at a Tampa motel, offering to students to inform on faculty members, probing beyond authority into matters of curriculum and personal beliefs of professors, and failing to comply with its promises with regard to the conduct of the investigation.

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110 Far from agreeing to such forthright behavior, the Board and its executive Dr J Broward Culpepper, instead asked Dr Allen to answer to a number of questions and charges which .Xo the Johns Committee had submitted secretly following ii ,f investigation. Among the things which Allen and his staff were required t o do by the Board, were to explain the University's policy and procedure on dissemination of news and publicity and to "consider and take steps to build public'confidence in the University end suspicions in the Tampa area of atheistic, anti-religious activities; p oor counseling; and the like in the University. In addition, Allen was given the names of half a dozen or more faculty and staff members about whom unproved suspicions of sexual deviation xu and various kinds of "dangerous" thinking existed. Clearly, the Board had no intention of defending the University against the committee; on the contrary, it seemed A more direct show of no confidence in the president and the institution could hardly have been possible. Further compounding the president' s woes was a series of articles in the Tampa Tribune covering various aspects of the development of the University and Tampa's two private schools, the University of Tampa and Florida Christian College. In one of the articles Allen was quoted as saying, "Private schools these days are not examples of free enterprise at all. They're closer to charities. That unfortunate statement brought down the wrath of the presidents of both private schools, as well as a flow of critical letters to the editor. At a time when the University needed all the help it c ould get, President Allen's

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111 statement succeeded only in adding more enemies. The fact that he intended no criticism in his remark became lost in the furor. He meant that private schools depend upon the generosity of voluntary donors; his critics interpreted the remark to mean that they were beggars. Late in July, President Allen left for a month's vacation in Canada, where he and his wife had had a secluded island cottag e for many years. They customarily went there during the srunmer, and since they had no children the respite from the pressures and demands of a presidency in academia was for them peaceful and complete. The 1962 trip was perhaps their most welcome one, for the preceding months had been trying and often agonizing for them both. With his rare facility for disciplining his thoughts and emotions, Dr. Allen was probably as successful as any man could be in leaving the trials and conflicts of his office behind him, and for four weeks he lived at peace in the Canadian wilds, virtually out of touch with the University of South Florida and all the outside world. The battered ship he left behind, however, was still being buffeted by waves of discord in the aftermath of the storm. Shortly after the president left the campus, a letter from Johns Committee attorney Mark Hawes to Board of Control chairman Baya M Harrison provided the answer to the persistent attacks on Dr. Fleming, and also added a sad and ironic footnote to the president's unfortunate decision not to approve his a ppointment. That letter, wh ich aptly illustrates the comm ittee's reckless and dangerous disregard for accuracy, is worth presenting here. It said: "On June 6, 1962, while taking the testimony of Dr. John

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112 s. Allen, of the University of South Florida, I gave him, on behalf of. the Committee, certain information we had, allegedly showing a record of Communist-front affiliation of the above named individual (D. F. Fleming), along with certain book reviews of Dr. Fleming's book, The Cold War and Its Origins, and other information in our possession in regard to his attitude toward the Soviet Union and his method of teaching. The information the concerning alleged Communist-front affiliation of Dr. Fleming, appears in Dr. Allen's testimony beginning on Page 1 71. I gave this information to Dr. Allen after he had informed us that the House Unamerican Activities Committee had given him a clean bill of health on Dr. Fleming in this regard. The information I gave him included the original source which supposedly supported the alleged affiliations. "On double checking, I confirmed this morning, that the Committee's source of information was in error in attributing these affiliations to Dr. Fleming of Vanderbilt University. It appears there is a Dr. D. J. Fleming, also in education, to whom these affili-ations are rightfully attributable. The clear result is that the Committee has no information that Dr. Fleming of Vanderbilt University, the author of The Cold War and Its Origins, has any public record of Communist-front affiliations. "I am writing you in this regard, so that the Board will know the true facts and will not expend any time seeking to check further on this information. For the same reason, I am sending a copy of this letter to President Allen and Dean Russell M. Cooper, in whose colleg e it was proposed that Dr. Flemingteach. "As you k now, this testimony was taken in Executive Session by the Committee and the record is not public property and cannot

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113 b e come public property without action by the Committee. For your information, I am reco1nmending to the Committee that they take the necessary action to see to it that this portion of this record may never be released publicly. I think, in all fairness, that Dr. Fleming is entitled to this protection. Accordingly, I would appreciate your advising your fellow members and your staff of the Board, as well as Dr Allen and Dean Cooper, in this ftegard. II The testimony to which Hawes referred included an exchange between and Dr. Allen in which Hawes in effect, implied that the president was lying about Fleming's background. Hawes was certain he had evidence of Communist-front activities on the part of the professor, but when he learned he had the wrong Fleming he wanted the record kept secret, "in all fairness" to the Vanderbilt professor. That Hawes himself might be open to prosecution for false accusation, should the record of testimony ever become public, might also have influenced his recommendation that it "never be released publicly.11 The letter, dated July 27, came too late to correct the wrong that had been done to Fleming, and in fact Hawes implied that the professor's views were still radical enough to warrant his rejection. But, in a style reminiscent of Joseph McCarthy's list-waving purge attempts of a decade before, the Johns Committee had succeeded in forcing the President of the University of South Florida to compromise a principle and sacrifice an innocent man to a ppease the thirsts of a militant band of witch hunters. The president rationalized that he was actually doing Fleming a favor by sparing him the embarrassment of a public fight, but it was the president himself, not Fleming, who so feared such an

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114 open confrontation. Realistically, he knew it would be a fight that neither he nor Fleming nor the University itself could win, even though their cause was right. The power of the Johns Committee andthe ultra-right wing, the Pilate-like lack of resolve of the governor and his cabinet, and the submission of the Board of Control all indicated that victory was not possible. Open resistance would not have brought approval of Fleming' s appointment, and in all probability would have CQst President Allen his job. But silent surrender meant cutting Fleming loose to drift, repudiating Dean Cooper and others who had recommended Fleming, alienating the faculty, and laying the University open to further extremist assaults in the future. of circumstances not entirely of his own making, Dr. Allen found himself in a position w hich offered no satisfactory solution. It is one thing to say that the decision he made was the wrong one; only someone who has found himself in such a position can know the difficulty of it. But whatever the cost, a fight for ave b en the appointment would appear to the most honorable choice. "-.,.vrG.-0 -ce The shadow of the Fleming over President Allen and the University' and it sure to stand for many years as one of the most damaging wounds inflicted by the Johns Committee and the extremists who aided it. Since the d ecision on Fleming was not immediately announced, President Allen's departure for eanada was followed by a few weeks of quietude. News commentator Edward P Morgan of the American Broadcasting Company sympathetically discussed the University' s long ordeal on his July 24 network program, but except for that there was little publicity during July and early August. Before the battle began a gain, though, one other related

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115 matter of interest resolved itself. Thomas J. B Wenner, whose lengthy complaint to the St. Petersburg Times had first lifted the lid on the entire controversy, had disappeared from sight when the Johns Committee left early in June. But late in July, a story from newspapers in Kentucky announced that he would teach that fall at Western Kentucky State C ollege, and the story found its way back to the University of South Florida campus. It developed that Wenner had been hired at the Kentucky school on the recommendation of a University of Kentucky political scientist who was Xxxxxxxx RXk a long-time friend of Wenner's and was familiar with his adventures of the year before. The political scientist supported Wenner's story that he had been in retirement at Palm Springs, California, the department head at Western Kentucky, being unaware of the truth, quickly hired him. When Wenner's actual exploits and the deceptive recommendation became known, it was too late for Western Kentucky officials to withdraw their offer, and they permitted Wenner to teach under conditions of a written a letter from the American Association of University Professors chapter, of president. The letter protested Allen's decision in the Fleming case, saying that a "clear moral contract" existed and some reimbursement was in order.

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116 Asking for clarification of the University's policy on hiring, the letter added, "your seeming reluctance to admit eitper a legal or moral obligation to Dr Fleming is a source of grave concern to us. The Fleming case clearly was not over. But one other development was causing the faculty just as much concern. One of members of the faculty about whom the Johns Committee had registered complaints was jwEfBEXMKX John W Caldwell, an associate professor of theatre arts. At the urging of the Johns Committee and with the knee-jerk a greement of the Board of Control, President Allen suspended Caldwell effective at the end of the summer term August 11. University policy stipulated that suspension for cause would be followed by a faculty committee hearing if the person under suspension requested it, and when Caldwell refused to accept Allen' s vaguely-worded letter of removal, Dean Sidney J French, actting in the president's absence, appointed the five -man committee to conduct the hearing. The AAUP soon learned of action, and sent Dr Hicks to attend the hearings. Hicks subsequently complained in an 9 letter to Allen that Caldwell had never received written charges specifying the grounds for h i s suspension. Still, Allen was incommunicado in Canada and no public mention of the Fleming or the Caldwell matters had been made But that condition was short-lived. On August 14, a Tampa Times reponter called the University News Bureau to confirm a tip that professor has been fired and another failed to get appointed because he was suspected of being a Communist Shortly, the News Bureau issued a statement approved by French confirming Caldwell's suspension (but not stating the reason) and saying

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117 that Fleming :i. not hired because he had bee n denied re-appointment at Vanderbilt. The Times, feeling an implication of moral or political deviation hung over Caldwell, added in its story a sentence saying "it was understood the suspension was not based on any moral or political reason. Allen still was away; and Caldwell was also out o f town and unavailable for comme nt. In the week that followed, news of the suspension and the rescinded appointment reverberated aroundethe state. But the biggest surprise of all was yet to come, August 25 in some twenty full columns of space, the printed word for word a fifty-threepage summation provided by the Johns Committee as a digest of the 2 468 pages of t estimony taken during the investig ation o f t h e U n iversity. Though Charley Johns' final public statement in June had included a promise t o present its finding s privately to the Board of Control, he chose instead to let the Tribune print the report even before copies had been given to the Board or to President Allen. Late in the afternoon on August 24, the Tribune's managing editor, V. M Newton, told a University staff member who wa s visiting the paper's offices that he had gotten the report from Johns twenty -four hour s before it was released to anyone else, in return for a promise that the entire document would be printed. Newton boasted that he had been after the report for months. It was rumored that the Tribune also a greed to stop an investigation of some allege d wrongdoings by Johns Committee detective R J. Strickland, but that was never confirmed, although some of Strickland's questionable activities did eventually come to light in other papers. Newton's obvious glee at landing the report seemed to

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118 stem from a lingering disgust that Thomas Wenner had broken the initial story of the investigation to the rival St. Petersburg Times across the bay. Noted for his vindictive g rudges, Newton apparently saw publication of the report as a means of getting back at the Times, and he seemed to care little that the University would in the bargain. It is interesting to note the contrast between Newton's handling of the Johns Committee--University fight in the Tribune's news pages and the editorial response of the same paper under Editor James Clendinen's direction. Newton seemed almost eager to harm the institution; Clendinen, though, in spite of his family connection with Baya Harrison, gave outspoken support to the University and repeatedly criticized Harrison, the entire Board of Control and Governor Bryant for their failure to oppose the destructive techniques a n d false charges of the

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J dr, s 118 stem from a lingering disgust that Thomas Wenner had broken j the initial story of the investigation to the rival St. Times across the bay. Noted for his vindictive 1 Newton saw publication of the report as a means of J J 1getting back at the Times, and he cared little that the University suffer in the bargain. Appearan c e o f the report could not havecome at a more nopportune time for the University. Not only President Allen Dean French and all other top-level administrators were of town, and the University, in its period of rest between was all but closed down. Baya Harrison, the Board of in disbelief when he was told that Friday n1ght at the next morning' s paper would carry the report, he still could .not bring himself to make a public protest. describing Before storm of controversy which followed the report, a review of the contents of the repnrt itself should be enlightening. The 53-page typewritten document was addressed to the Board \The/ Control and the State Board of Education. opening paragraphs defensively supported the activities of the committee, s aying it ad acted within the l a w which guided it and denying that it had, Tribune editorial charged, set itself up as a chancellor for the state university system. The report stated had c onducted its investigations in executive ession so as not to harm innocent persons. It then proceeded o quote out of context from the testimony of faculty wtnesses-11 of whom were innocent persons, having been f ound guilty of wrongdoing---and thus cast unfair implications o f guilt -

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119 i To demonstrate fairness on the part of the comm ittee, the report said a B oard of Control observer attended all questioning sessions, and also said no witnesses were com pelled to testify all I and none were answer questions unless they wanted to. reporter took down all testimony, and an employee of the University tape recorded all sessions of the interrogation. No mention was made of the unrecorded questioning of students in the committee's motel headquarters, in Thomas Wenner's home or elsewhere, and the only reference to Jane Smith and her group of supporters simply denied that she had instigated the probeo A brief sentence praising the vigilance of Mrs. Smith and her friends was followed by a statement saying their testimony would not be needed, since the committee would rely solely on the testimony of University officials to make its case. Finally, the report promised not to make suggestions to the Board o f Control, but only to point out facts it felt were deserving of attention. Then came the substance of the report---such as it was---beginning with the Jero me Davis incident. Objectivity soon was discarded, and the tone of the prosecutor began t o seep in. Davis, the report said, was sympathetic to Co1mnunism, yet the people who invited him to lecture at the University wanted him just the same: "It is perfectly obvious from the testimony of each of these men that they thought it was perfectly proper for a man with a long and extensive Communist-front record to deliver a lecture on the campus and, as a matter of fact, that they still think so." The committee obviously did not approve of that much freedom of speech. Said another passage: "It is an established fact that some o f the people who are presently responsible for hiring regular teachers and procuring

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120 outside lecturers believe it is proper and permissible5under academic freedom, to have identified Communists teaching and/or lecturing on the campus." To further support the point, the report said a member of the R ussian Embassy staff in Washington had spoken to a clas s at the University. Dr. Allen was quoted from his testimon y as saying that under certain circumstances h e thought a publi c lecture by an identified Communist would be permissible, other members of the Un iversity staff we r e quoted as saying essentially the same thing, and that section of the report ended with the implication that plenty of USF personnel favore d hiring was a pparently no policy to stop them. The Johns Committee (throug h the words of attorney Mark Hawes, who wrote the report) thus indicte d the University for attempting to practice unfettered free speech instead of indoctrinating its students in carefully charted directions. In a further effort to show a softness toward Communism, the report then brought u p the Fleming case, quoting at length from reviews critical of the professor's two-volume work on the Cold War. President Allen was quoted as saying Dr. Fleming's appointment had not been finalized, and this was followed by quotes from Deans French and Cooper indicating the appoi ntment was complete. The letter of Vanderbilt Chancellor Branscomb saying Fleming had gone sour" was also presented, and a Tampa engineer, Kendrick c. Hardcastle III, was quoted as saying he had taken two classes under Fleming at Vanderbilt and knew him to be an apologist for the Soviet Union. There was no mention of Hawes' admission t hat he had confused Dr. Fleming with another

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121 man having the or o f the fact that no agency of the government had any record of C ommunist-front activities on the part of the former Vanderbilt professor. In s hort, the report presented all the unfavorable testimony it could find on Fleming---most of it vague and inconclusive---and left the inference that he was Iii 1 1 7& pro-Communist. T h e committee had thus attempted to prove the University of South Florida was "soft on Communism" by basing its entire case on the beliefs of Jerome Davis and D. F Fleming, neither of whom were guilty of anything more than holding from the orthodoxy of the extreme right wing. The fact that of them actually came to the University is not an indication of or of the 'Johns Committee's correctness, but only .. of Moving from Communism to another area, the committee report said "The record is pregnant with evidence that the University of South Florida raises serious questions of the validity of orthodox religious beliefs in the minds of the students, both through text materials and throug h some of the professors." Anti-religion, then, was the next are a of attack. The report said, somewhat incredulously, that most administrators and professors at the University seemed to think such questioning was a legitimate educational procedure, and then it implied that any discussion of religion in a public institution violated the principle f separation of church and state. Some critical of orthodox religion then in use at the University were mentioned, and a member of the faculty was quoted as saying there were atheists among his colleagues. With more quotes from faculty and students, the report sought to reinforce its charg e

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122 that challenging of religious beliefs and exposure to new approaches and thoughts on religion was commonplace in the of some students beliefs No testimony was presented, however, to indicate that any members of the faculty either com pelled or prohibited any religious beliefs. In short, there was no evidence of indoctrination, but only of exposure to ideas in the educational process. Undaunted, the committee turned its attention to a third area---obscene literature. Admitting that none of the books they examined were obscene under the "very strict and narrow" legal definition of that term, the committee said many of them nevertheless contained "coarse, profane, vile, and vulgar language." The report said pocket books and other "literary garbage" full of sex, alcoholism and homosexuality were being used in classes, and quoted at length from a short story by J. D. Salinger, which according to the tabulation following it, contained the words "god-dam," "bastard," "hell," and "son of a bitch" a com bined total of 45 times. Such literature is forced on the students despite complaints from their parents, the report said. Finally, the report took up the fourth area of its inquiry: homosexuality. "The Committee believes this problem not to be of great magnitude at the University of South Florida," the report said. One faculty member (identified as Professor Blank) was reported to have performed a homosexual act on a student, and the report noted that the professor resigned from the University the day after he was confronted with this accusation. Another

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123 allegation a gainst a faculty member was mentioned vaguely, but the report said the faculty member was in the hospital and could not testify. And a third incident was mentioned, allegedly involving a University employee and a student, but the report said when the student reported it to a faculty member and to a dean, no action was taken. The report was critical of the fact that there was no policy requiring employees to tell o n their colleagues. "This attitude of administrators wanting what they refer to as irrefutable proof b efore they act to discharg e an educator for homosexual conduct is one the committee has been confronted with over and over in its investigations," the report said, adding critically that courts and juries decide every day between conflicting testimony,lwhy can't educators do the same? .. \.._ to.._cJtt_cl_ I its report on homosexuality the fiu.L $71 Sftestimony from John Caldwell that he had been arrested public drunkenness and resisting arrest in September of 1961. Caldwell admitted he had been drinking, b u t denied he was drunk or resisted arrest. He testified that he pleaded guilty to the charge, and would not comment on whether or not he had cursed the arresting officer and hit him A final paragraph on Caldwell said he took a girl student into his home for several days and advised her not to return home to her parents, who sought her return and who disapproved of the boy she was dating. No mention was made of the fact that Caldwell's wife, child and mother-in-law were also in the home when the girl was there, and the implication was that Caldwell somehow was guilty of leading the girl astray. The fact that he convinced the girl

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124 not to elope with her boy friend was also not mentioned. Thus ended the report. It was a fatuous and inane compilation of vague charges and indictments that bore the mark of a prosecuting attorney rather than an objective o bserver, and on close examination it contained nothing of substance to justify its having been written. Bu t it filled three full pages in the Tampa Tribune, and it contained four unproved but emotional charges that were sure to get the desired response: Communism, anti-religion, obscenity, and homosexuality. Like something out of Arthur Miller's "The Crucible" or a Franz Kafka novel, these vague accusations needed no confirmation to evoke a reaction. The four charges themselves were enough to permit the committee to accomplish its purpose, and the truth or falsity of them became secondary. The Johns Committee had given its report to the Tribune for publication at a time when President Allen, his three major administrative colleagues, and most of the faculty members were out of the city. The faculty corrmittee inquiry into Caldwell's suspension was still underway, and publication of the report finally made public the charges against him. President A llen was on his way back from Canada, unaware of what had taken place in his absenceo The University stood accused of varying degrees of vaguely impro:p,e r behavior }Vith to CC?mmunism religion, LM-, a./) e-..J... _:_/ obscenity a!lnomosexuaiY}y'rhe JOFi'iiSl ommi ee had fired all its weapQns at the University. It was now the University's turn to respond, and time for the people to take sides.

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125 D eans Russell M Cooper of the College of Liberal Arts and Edwin P Martin of the C ollege of Basic Studies reacted first to the report with brief statements to the afternoon Tampa Times. Before the Tribune's next press deadline, Cooper had analyzed the report carefully, and his detailed response was carried in full in the Tribune's August 26 edition/: Saying he spoke not for the University but for himself, Cooper blasted the committee for breaking its pledg e to turn its report over to the Board of Control. "The University has been maligned and several individuals attacked by name without adequate op portunity to defend themselves," he said, adding, "It (the report) is in effect the case of a prosecuting attorney presenting his indictment. 11 Cooper said the committee had called no witnesses. friendly to the University, offered no o pportunity for cross-examiniation of critics, and made no attempt to study both sides of the issues which arose. On the contrary, he said, it had gleaned from the 2,468 pages of one-sided testimony "those passages which it felt would give it the strongest case, just as any prosecuting attorney wou l d do in a court of law." Then, taking the general charges of C o mmunism, homosexuality, vulgarity and anti-religion in turn, the dean refuted each allegation and questioned the committee's authority to i nquire into these areas in the first place. Finally, he concluded with these words: A s one reviews this entire episode, one wonders what the committee's objective has been. Clearly, it has not sought to help the University with its administrative problems, for its methods have only sown suspicion and fear and its report, both the typewritten transcript and the committee's summarized statement, have been

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126 withheld from the University to this date. "Two ominous questions, however, must be faced by the thoughtful citizen as he reviews this astonishing episode. Is the Johns Committee seeking to replace the Board of Control as the supervisor of educati@n in this state, since it apparantly went far beyond its legislative mandate in inquiring into the internal teaching and administrative operations of the University? Moreover, does the fact that it released its report to the press the same day that it presented it to the Board of Control indicate that it has no c onfidence in the Board' s capacity to work with administrators in straightening out whatever problems exist? "Even more serious is the question of whether the Johns Committee is seeking to fasten up o n the universities of Florida a particular brand of orthodoxy in political, religious, and literary thinking which would destroy the spirit of free inquiry now prevailing on these campuses. is an issue in which the entire has a vital interest. Does the state wish to develop distinguished universities where all aspects of the truth may be pursued without fear or favor? Or does it wish to develop a group of glorified finishing schools in whic h scholars are unable to pursue their honest lines of inquiry or to stimulate students into creative and unfettered thinking? Such institutions could never attract or hold any but third-rate faculty members and the whole program of higher education which the people of Florida have so magnificently begun could be brought down in ruins.11 Cooper's statement was well-received on the campus, and the basic questions he raised seemed to reach to the heart of the matter. By contrast, the Board of Control remained all but silent, with chairman Baya Harrison managing only to say that the Board

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127 was "concerned," and "It hopes that the unfortunate publicity will not inljure a potentially great university. Harrison had been more outspoken when he was informed by a University of South Florida employee on Friday night that the report would be in the Tribune the following morning. "Oh nol he had said, "Charley Johns promised me this wouldn't happen! He promised mel" This difference between the public and private uttarances of Harrison and other Board members illustrates one of the basic weaknesses of the University of South Florida's position. If, as Dean Cooper charged, the committee was "seeking to replace the Board of Control as the supervisor of education in this state, it was at least partially because the Board showed no inclination to resist such usurpation. The Tribune reached others for comment the day after the report appeared, among them Sam Gibbons and John Germany. Gibbons was more forthright than he had been during the investigation, saying he supported Dr. Allen and the University and urging the community to do likewise. Judge Germany would only say, "I haven' t fully digested the report yet. 8.. Neil Smith, one of the original complainers, also was quoted by the saying the report was a good one and adding, "Apparently there is no control at this school. In quick succession, the Greater Tampa Chamber of Commerce, the Temple Terrace Ministerial Association, and the USF chapter of AAUP replied to the committee's charges. The Chamber of Commerce called the report "biased, unfair and improperly handled, and urged the community "to unite behind the University" and President Allen. The ministerial group expressed "complete confidence" in the president and the staff of the University, commended it

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128 for "its cooperative attitude" toward religious bodies, and deplored the conduct of the Johns Committee. The AAUP, in a two-page statement, accused the committee of 11a startling intention to injure the University and members of the faculty and administration." The statement concluded: "The major difficulty at the University of South Florida is not Communism nor atheism, nor homosexuality, but a system which permits perversion of the true goals of education by irresponsible and uninformed investigations, and which allows untruthful charges to be made against a fine educational institution A Tribune editorial on August 26 was less supportive of the University's position than earlier editorials in that paper had been. It seemed to share the committee's distaste for Jerome Davis and D F. Fleming, but averted any discussion of whether "free speech" and "the search for truth" were ideals to be earnestly sought or merely platitudes having no relation to reality. The St. Petersburg Times, however, carried what was perhaps its best euitorial of the long episode, defending the University on each of the specified charges and adding, "It is a disgrace to the State of Florida that such a shameful document could issue from an official body." Other papers, including the Tampa Times, the St. Petersburg Independent, the Lakeland Ledger, the Gainesville Sun, the Daytona Beach Evening News, and the Sarasota HeraldTribune, came to the University's support. A few, including the Orlando Sentinel and the Sarasota News, supported the committee. It was into this atmosphere of emotion-charged debate that Preslildent John S Allen returned. Taking less than hventy-four hours to absorb the impact of the events that had taken place in his absence, he called a press conference on Monday afternoon,

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J 129 August 27, and made one of his strongest defenses of his faculty and the University. He praised Dean Cooper for his response to the report, and then made this statement: "The Johns Committee has generated an endless flow of unf rr and harmful publicity. It has probed beyond its legislative mandate into the University's curriculum, its choice of assigned reading material, the religious and political beliefs of its faculty, the professional judgment of its administrators, and even into the private live s of its staff, seeking to build the most one-sided and damaging case it could against the institution "Universities are complex institutions. When they are performing their proper functions faithfully, they accurately reflect the diversities of thought and action which characterize our society in its search for truth. Controversy is born out of the differences which make us interesting and useful human beings; and universities must examine these differences dispassionately. Our purpose is to educate, not indoctrinate; to help students learn how to think, not what to think; to this purpose the University of South Florida must remain dedicated. To the four general charges, Dr Allen gave succinct rebuttal: "The committee found not one member of the faculty who is or was ever affiliated with an organization advocating or even sympathetic to Communism The committee found no reqgired or recommended reading material that could be proven obscene or pornographic in a court of law It produced allegations, but no positive proof, of homosexual activity on the part of just three s taff members among the more than 450 who wor k for the University To the final charge of anti-religious activity, Allen said more than a dozen faculty members frequently occupied pulpits in the community

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130 and he added that the University was one of the few in the country to make land available for religious centers on the campus "These could hardly be the actions of a faculty which is anti-religious, he said. The Board of Control was silent to President Allen's statement of defense, and Governor Bryant reacted without comment both to the committee report and to Allen's rebuttal. The day after Dr Allen spoke, though, Governor Bryant and the State Cabinet approved the Johns Committee' s request for a $67, 150 "emergency" appropriation. Press rep o rts on the Cabinet's action said the committee had been promised the additional funds some months earlier when its $75,000 biennial appropriation began to run low. Martin Waldron, writing in the St. Petersburg Times, about said the committee had spent xmmE $30 ,000 to $35 000 in its investigation at the University of South Florida, and had increased its staff from three to seven persons. The Tampa Tribune, following Dr Allen's statement, editorialized again on the controversy, and if it had wavered in its first response to the committee report, that uncertainty was soon dispelled. After a point-by-point examination of the now -famous "four charges," the editorial said: "Any citizen who has read the committee report and the very able replies of Dr Allen, Dean Russell M Cooper, the chapter of the American Association of University Professors and the Temple Terrace ministers must wonder wh y this investigation was held. "We do. We have wondered ever since .:tkB committee investigators suddenly set up headquarters at a fancy Tampa motel last April and began taking testimony.

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131 ,, LEvery matter which the committee spent so much time and tax mone y investigating rightfully should have been handled by the Board of Control, and would have been disposed of smearing the University in the manner the committee report does. "If Senaton Charley Johns of Starke and his colleagues had been sincerely concerned with improving the University of South Florida, they could have best shown that concern by referring complaints (from sources not yet fully identified) to the Board or Control. "Now the committee has simply handed the Board the mountain of testimony and its own summary---without a single It says, in effect: 'Here it is. Do something. "The first thing the Board of Control ought to do is issue a public statement expressing its own confidence in the general soundness of the University of South Florida. It has better reason than any other official body to know how much progress has been made in the University's brief life. "The second thing the Board ought to do is to reassert its own authority as the agency charged by law with dire ctly supervising the state university system; with hiring and firing, choosing textbooks and establishing philosophies of education. "Unless the Board does take a positive stan d in behalf of the established system---which was specifically designed to protect higher education from political meddlers and fanatics---its authority will pass by default to Senator Johns and his fellow usurpers. "Then, it will not be merely the University of South Florida which suffers; the whole state will pay the price in a system of education which m eets the Space Age with its head in the sand.

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132 Others spoke out on one side or the other. Tampa television station WTVT called on the Board of Control to assert its authority, 4 :::::::r:a::: its the issue by several college administrators at nearby institutions defended Dr Allen and the University, letters predominantly favoring the institution appeared in the press, and the Chamber of Commerce 4 d constructive." The Zephyrhills News, after a long silence, once .,...p'. again trumpete d its accusations against the University, and the :::::t::: the matter. In a day when such information often is left moldering in 'official' files, we salute men with the courage to give the facts directly to the people. The Coalition bulletin then singled out USF English professor Sy M Kahn for allegedly leading students astray with anti-religious and pornographic literature. More ominous was the Coalition's closing statement: "We wonder at the attitude of the President o f this University in supporting the situation. We wonder further at the attitude of our elected officials in retaining this man as President. Of all the comment which followed the open clash of the c ommittee and the University, however, none was more enlightening than that of the Reverend Carroll E Simcox, rector of St. Mary s Episcopal Church in Tampa to a congregation that included

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133 som e of the University's most vocal detractors, Father Simcox said flatly, "President Allen is right in his conception of the proper function of a University, and the Johns Committee is wrong The Johns Committee and hosts of others believe that an American university exists specifically to propagate Ameri.canism, anticommunism, Christianity, heterosexuality, and a knowledge of books .as harmless as the Bobbsey Twins and Peter R aboit We have to face this: if by the time our children go to college we have not taught them the way of life which we think is right, we have failed, and they are not ready to face the world as it is. There are atheists; there are communists, and 1comsymps1 ; there are homosexuals; and there are not only books with dirty words in them but even people who use those dirty words. Somehow a university has got to teach its students how to live and to deal with these facts. Father Simcox went on to say that "Behind the report of the Johns Committee we see one of the saddest and most ominous phenomena of present-day American life, and that is fear of the intellectual. Why are so many people convinced that our co'lleges and universities are infested with atheists and communists and moral I wish I knew the whole answer to that question But one big part of it is this: that many of us_are afraid to examine honestly and intelligently the foundations of our religion, our morality, our way of life; and a university is of necessity devoted to the task of examining and exploring everything." It would have been hard for the University of South Florida to have a more eloquent defense t han that.

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In stark contrast to the words of Father Simcox was an editorial in the Orlando Sentinel; if the minister's words clearly expressed what the University was fighting for, the Sentine+'s position showed what it was fighting against: 134 "We .cannot conceive private industry permitting such practices to prevail. If it was tried, the stockholders and the board of directors would move rapidly to straighten matters out. "If you think that the analogy does not hold good, let us remember that education is an industry, perhaps the greatest that we have in our scheme of survival. It too has stockholders in the taxpayers and a board of directors in the state officials elected or appointed by the stockholders. "With all the side issues raised by the Johns Committee report, this one issue appears paramount: Are our state-supported institutions of higher learning to be operated on a busiDness-like basis in keeping with the ideals, religious and civil concepts of our people?" Here, beneath all the sound and fury, lay the .real bone of contention. The University, without much support, was trying to become what great universities throughout the centuries have been: places where mature and responsible thought is given to to the whole spectrum of life, and truth is separated from falsehood by a meticulous process of exploration into all manner of thoughts and ideas. Its opponents wanted instead a super industry where policy and procedure emanates from the top and all who labor there adhere to these mandates. The University, to them, was simply another branch of the state government, to be regulated with economy and efficiency like any other business;

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the creative processes, the marketplace of ideas, the dispassionate examination of unpopular thought---these sounded good on paper, but they were disruptive in a big organization, and they could not be allowed to rock the ship of state. What fanned the fires of controversy, in short, 135 was a basic ideological dispute over the purpose of a university. Within the ranks of Florida officialdom, few voices were heard in defense of the University of South Florida's position in that dispute. On September 4 the University prepared for the opening of its third year with an orientation program for old and new faculty. As he had in the past, President Allen addressed the group, and Dean Sidney French drew on a long and intimate friendship with the president f o r these insightful words of introduction: "The man wh o has led us through (the investigation) is a modest man, a quiet man as behooves one of his Quaker ancestry. He is a simple man in his tastes. There's no pomp around him, and ceremony is confined to academic garb In thirty years I have never heard him swear outwardly, and I seriously doubt that he does so inwardly. I have never heard him raise his voice in anger---at any time or to anyone---and there have been some occasions when justification was more than sufficient. He does not s moke; indeed, he s uffers in a smoke-filled room, but freely tolerates smoking by others. I have seen him on social occasions hold one filled highball glass for several hours for the sake of lending tolerance to others who refilled theirs much more frequently. Tolerance, in fact, is one of his greatest virtues and strengths.

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136 "He is a gentle man in every sense of the word. But do not misunderstand; he is also a firm man, and at times where a principle is concerned he can be downright stubborn. There is neither wishy nor washy in his makeup. He is a fair man, and understands the meaning of listening to reason; then he makes up his own mind. He is a man of very great integrity, morality, decency, and kindness. He is, in fact, the very last man on to lead, devise, support, or subscribe to any of the viciousness which the Johns C ommittee report by implication has tried to connect him with." Dean French's introductory remarks told much about the man who stood at the center of the storm over the University. For he was indeed all those things---modest, quiet, tolerant, gentle, firm, stubborn---and during his time of trial those same qualities were both a help and a hindrance to the conduct of his office. His Quaker background and his personal character made him, in effect, not one man but two: the first was the smiling, charming person who worked quietly with people in an easy-going way; the second was the intense individual who revealed himself and his thoughts to no one and made his agonizing choices in solitude. These two John Allens shared one thing in common: a vision of the University of South Florida decades in the future. That vision was of a University bigger and stronger and more productive than anything even his closest colleagues dreamed of, a large and sprawling multiversity---to use Clark Kerr's term---that had as much quality as quantity. Toward that goal the two John Allens worked, and the individual, day-to-day decisions which were an integral part of the overall task were made on the basis

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137 of logic and reasoning often known only to the John Allen who resided alone in the inner shell. Jerome Davis required such a decision, and so did D F Fleming. Reflecting on those choices in a rare moment of candor, President Allen told an associate the decisions of a man in such a crisis are like those of a general at war. "Every crisis makes you decide, he said. "Do you win the battle, but lose the war? Can you win both? Yo u have a goal, and you stay to fight for that until you lose, until you're defeated and the goal is destroyed. In the Bavis and Fleming cases, the "We might conceivably win these battles (though it was doubtful), but instead of being strengthened we will be weakened by the assaults of our opponents, and we will lose the war. Losing the war would not only mean losing his job---something many people incorrectly thought was what he really treasured---but also losing the vision. And he saw himself, with impersonal detachment, as an essential part of the vision, not because of any unique qualities he possessed, but simply because he knew whoever the politically-dominated Board of Control chose to replace him would be much worse. To keep the vision alive, he paid the price of surrendering a vital principle in the case of D F Fleming, and whil e the official John Allen---the one who smiled---announced the decision and stuck by inner John Allen---the one who agonized---knew how RRXxXJ much it had cost, and even he could vision would ever be the same.

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138 Early in Se ptember, almost six months after the conflict had begun, the first legislator who dared to speak out in support of the University made his views known in a speech in Tampa Representative Fred B Karl of Daytona Beach told the Tampa Kiwanis Club he thoroughly disagreed with the committee and its tactics, and said he was astonished that the executive branch of government had not spoken out in protest. He said the Board of Control was responsible for the protection of the universities as well as their administration, and he asked, "Why then does the Board stand silent? "Actually, is not their failure a greater stain upon the conscience of the state than the original action of the committee? Is not their silent condonation of this report and the method in which it was handled as damaging to the morale of the faculty members and the prospective faculty members as is the report itself?" Karl askedo No other member of the Florida Legislature, not even the members of Hillsborough County's delegation, had ventured to express such views Representative Karl stood alone, and his took no small bit of courage. While Karl was speaking, a defrocked Presbyterian minister named Carl Mcintire was praising the Johns Committee report on I a JljJ-station radio hookup. Speaking Collingswood, New Jersey, on his daily program called "The Twentieth Century Reformation Hour amiliar Mcintyre repeated the narges of the Florida Coalition of Patriotic Societies and other right-wing groups and said the University of South Florida was guilty of the now-famous "four c harges" N.:f made by the committee.

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139 And so, with the extended dispute between the University and the committee still festering, a new school term began and the proponents and opponents of the institution continued to debate. On September 14, three weeks after publication of the Johns Committee report, the Board of Control finally spoke. The Board's position was contained in a four-page report drawn up by a three-man subcommittee and adopted by the entire Board. The press headlined it as a defense of the University, but in truth it was an equivocating document clearly intended to appease both sides. The nearest it cgme to support of the University was a sentence saying, "This committee feels that in the total perspective President Allen, the faculty, and the staff of the University of South Florida have performed well in developing the beginnings of a great university. On the other hand, it credited "the alertness of private citizens, members of the Legislative Committee, with Control and its staff" members of the Board of Jerome Davis and D F Fleming from lecturing or teaching at the University. It said that although selection of teaching materials should be left in the hands of the faculties, the Board should adopt a policy requiring that all teaching materials should be "pertinent to the s ubject being taught, the best mm material available and obtainable, and within the of good taste and common decency. And it also referred to its 1961 "Policy on Morals and Influences, which requrred careful screening of employees and students for detection of "any antisocial or immoral behavior, such as Communistic activities or sex deviation. The nearest the report came to criticizing the Johns Committee was a sentence

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saying the Boar d of Control "is the proper body to receive, investigate, and take action upon any and all complaints directed toward or against the institlil.tions under its authority." The Board1s statement resulted from a study its three-man subcommittee had been engaged in since July, before the Johns Committee report had been published. As a compromise it was a failure, for the faculties at the University of South Florida and the other state univ e rsities as well resented the suggestions of more stringent p olicies on selection of teaching materials and screening of employees, and Charley Johns said he and his committee had no apologies to make to anybody. Not mentioned specifically in the Board statement was an 11implementation11 document being prepared by the Board staff which in effect made the 11recommendations" in the September 14 statement not recommendations at all but rather binding procedures covering selection of faculty and students, obscenity in books and teaching materials, homosexuality, and challenges to basic religious beliefs. The 11implementation11 document applied to all universities under the Board, and required, among other things, the following: Extensive screening of the loyalty and morality of all prospective employees and students; Approval by the president of all visiting lecturers and speakers; Fingerprinting of all uni ver si ty personnel; Written evaluation of the pertinence, quality, 11good taste and common decency11 of all proposed teaching materials; A quarterly report from each president on 11the elimination of sex deviates"; and Three regulations limiting discussion of religious issues

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and the University of South Florida had received no support from the faculties of its sister institutions. The implementation that condition, however, for it represented an attempt by the Board to assert its authority, and as a result all the universities felt the pinch. What had been a fight beteen one institution and a legislative committee become a struggle between all the universities and their governing board, and in the months ahead this involvement of all the universities would 'h a vital asset to the survival of the University of South But lr 9 Y the implementation s tatemen decision faced President Allen and the University. On the same day the Board of Control made its initial public response to the J ohns Committee investigation, President Allen was intently searching for the right choice to make in the case of Professor John W Caldwell. The five-man faculty committee, after almost a month of deliberation, had unanimously recommended Caldwell's reinstatement, and the president,had to decide whether or not to support the recommendation. After private consultation with the Board at its weekend meeting in Tallahassee, he made his move on Monday morning. He had said no to Jerome Davis and D. F Fleming; to John Caldwell, h e said yes. "I have accepted the committee's recommendation and reinstated M r Caldwell," he said in a brief statement. The Tampa Tribune' s managing editor, V M Newton, was obviously displeased with the decision. Under his direction, the Tribune story announcing the reinstatement

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a word-for-word repeat of the Johns Committee' s unproved and unspecific charges against Caldwell, and on the following day a lengthy front page story gave the angry reaction of Senator Charley Johns. "It has been apparent from the very first public reaction of President Allen and several of his deans that they intended 142 to resist the taking of any corrective action at the University of South Florida," Johns said. He then repeated the charges against Caldwell, and threw in a new one: "It is a matter of record that when Professor Caldwell appeared before the committee he was suffering from an extreme case of alcoholic hangover and shakes. Johns concluded that Caldwell's reinstatement "by Dr. Allen and his administration amounts to a public nullification of the Board of Control's announced policy on morals and influances. Board chairman Baya Harrison, when asked to comment on the newest confrontation of the University and the Johns Committee, placed all responsibility for the reinstatement on Allen and added, "If any citizen of Florida has any additional evidence that should be presented, it is urged that the same be brought to the attention of the Board of Control. It sounded almost like a plea for the citizens of the state to join in the assault on the University he was supposed to be upholding. Another crisis seemed inevitable, and once again the University was the weakest of the contending parties. On September 20, the day after Johns's new blast, Caldwell averted the crisis with a bang. He resigned from the University, and in a two-page letter to President Allen he gave his reasons. Because of "the extended and continued harassment inflicted upon me" by the Johns Committee, he said, "I am not at this time either physically or emotionally

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143 able to perform my teaching duties. He said the brief history of the University "has been indelibly marred by this fruitless investigation which has continued in a steady sequence too precise to be coincidental." During this time, he said, "I have been prominently attacked and vilified in what has been an obvious attempt to destroy me and my career, though for what reason I am still unaware. He then specifically denied that he had failed to look into an alleged incident of homosexuality reported to him by a student, that h e had been drunk or drinking when he testified before the committee, and that he had encouraged a young female student to defy her parents. "These are but three of the ruthless attempts of the Johns Committee to defame my character," he went on. "They are indicative of the manner in which the entire investigation was carried out, and they explain the low level of morale to be found among the peopl e who were subjected to this degrading performance. These police state methods have made me and my colleagues almost physically ill, and I cannot tell you the contempt I feel as a result. Caldwell also said his attorneys had told him Johns, as a public official, was immune from prosecution for libel, and thus, he said, "I have no choice except to resign from the field of higher education in Florida." In closing, Caldwell said, "I am a native of this state, and have long loved it and worked in it and for it---often, I hope, to its credit. I leave it sadly, but with the fond hope that the citizens of Florida will again make it possible for their universities to be governed through the Board of Control in a dignified and intelligent manner, free of political interference. Florida's state universities cannot hope to attain greatness

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144 under the withering scrutiny of reckless investigations, for no teacher of any stature will be willing to subject himself to such irresponsible attacks. Thus departed John W Caldwell. The 38-year-old theatre reputatioll/ director took with him the remains of a widely-acclaimed he had earned in Florida, and the St Petersburg Times, among others, lamented his departure. "The secret and otherwise fruitless investigation has thus produced a victim," said the Times. "But we are really all the victi ms When personal p ersecution is allowed to override orderly, responsible procedure, just men everywhere must cringe. Even beyond Florida's borders the Johns Committee's activities were attracting attention. On September 24, the Washington Post related highlights of the committee report i n an editorial and said it was "marked by a succession of solecisms which pretty well revealed the intellectual qualifications of tts authors. Perhaps it will be accorded no more attention than it deserves attacks of this kind do grave damage. They undermine confidence in higher education and they tend to intimidate teachers. Education is a profession which cannot be subjected to this kind of reckless interference by self-appointed campus cops. The best that can be hoped for from this Florida incident is that it may serve as an object lesson to other legislatures in how NOT to handle a university. In Tampa, Caldwell's resignation brought a sudden, if temporary, relaxing of pressure. During late Septembe r and early October no new incidents occurred to stimulate the flo\
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145 the simmering dispute was a rumor---quickly branded as false---that the committee had renewed its investigation of the University. Then, on October 17, the Tampa Bay Baptist Association, apparently not entirely satisfied with the Johns Committee's report, issued one of its own. Signed by an eight-member committee headed by John s. Wimbish, the report said the associati on had been secretly investigating "the flood of coiQ.plaints" against the University for nine months--since January 22. It was later learned that Mr. Wimbish had a group of students secretly reporting to him and his committee on the teaching methods and materials of professors at the University, and these "intelligence" re,ports were added to the files of the ministers. Their' report also said the aid of the Johns Committee had been solicited early in their investigation (a fact later confirmed by revelation that committee investigator R. J. Strickland had spent more than a week in late in January), and added that the Baptists had conferred with members of the Board of Control in July when the B0ard was privately studying the testimony from the Johns investigation. The remainder of the report bYt the Baptists simply repeated the Board of Control's "recommendations' of September 14, and concluded with the "sincere hope and confident belief" that they would be carried out. The Tampa Bay Baptist Association, said the report, consisted of 82 ministers and 39,384 members. One of the eight signers of the Baptist document was Guy Stoner, pastor of the Temple Terrace Baptist Church and a signer of the earlier statement by the ministers of Temple supporting the University. When questioned about this contradiction, Stoner denied having signed the statement of support with the other ministers of Temple Terrace .. One other occurrance of note was an October 19 ruling of the Florida Supreme Court which reinstated three Pinellas County school teachers whose certificates had been revoked after allegations of homosexuality had been made against them by the Johns Committee. In its five-to-two decision, the court said the committee was not empowered to investigate homosexuality at the time of the three suspensions in 1961. Furthermore, the court added, committee investigator R. J. Strickland had not only exceeded the law by making his inquiry, but had extracted statements from the teachers

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"under a threat of publicity," and "the only evidence as to acts of homosexuality on the part of the petitioners was the testimony of Strickland That power which Strickland assumed for the committee was instituted retroactively by the Legislature, and at the time of the University of South Florida investigation "homosexuality" was included in the wording of the committee's enabling act. The court's decision, however, raised hopes that n ew suits against the Johns Committee's activities might stand a chance of success. Still, no one wh o had been mentio,ned in the report on the University showed any inclination to submit to. the long and expensive test process. On October during a meetin g ,..; of Norman

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147 The uneasiness and preoccupation of the University community in the fall of 1962 was apparent in a multitude of ways. In spite of the emphatic and unanimous denial of the rumor that the Johns Committee had returned, the atmosphere of concern and uncertainty prevailed, and morale was at a lob ebb. The good effect of Caldwell's reinstatement was quickly cancelled out by his resignation, and the entrance of the Baptist Association into the open struggle added to the dismay on the campus. In an effort to improve communications, President Allen scheduled a series of "Know Your University" lectures for the faculty, but when he stepped to the rostrum to give the first talk, barelya fourth of the auditorium was filled. He gave a lacklustre performance, showing not only the strain he was under but also his inability to stir his audience, and the effect, if anything, was to add to the pessimism of the faculty. Dr Allen was awarded the Un iversity of Minnesota's alumnus award for outstanding achievement later that month, and two of his deans spearheaded formation of a national association for. general and liberal studies, but these two accomplishments outside the state did little toimprove matters at home. Word continued circulate that the University was in bad condition, and rumors that Allen' s ,was in jeopardy also were discussed repeatedly, in downtown coffee shops as well as on the campus. It was another fall, a new school year, and the tribulations of the University of South Florida were being experienced in varying degrees on other campuses around the nation. C Vann Woodward, writing in the October issu e of Harper's, told of reactionary attacks on academic freedom at more than a dozen Southern colleges and universitie s but such intrusions were not

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148 confined to the South. The president of the University of Colorado was locked in a heated controversy with Senator B a rry Goldwater over an article that had appeared in the student newspaper, and the. president, Quigg Newton, ultimately resigned; professors' jobs were bein g threatened or taken away in Kentucky and Illinois for participation in peace marches and racial demonstrations; and on other-campuses, from N ew England to California, wave of conservatism was 'mounting a gainststudents and professors alike. Clearly, what troubled the University of South Florida was by no means an isolated virus but a disease that was reaching epidemic proportions. Still, the University of South Florida's difficulties had something of a distinctive a ppearance, in a negativ e sort of way, and to many they a ppeared sadly unique. What set the University apart, in its malaise, was its almost total vulnerability to attack, for while other schools in similar positions EAIK had some vestiges of support, the University had no alumni, no sympathetic community power, no protective governi n g board to defend its cause. Only a few a battle-weary student body and faculty, and a relative handful of citizens joined the administration in its and even in these ranks there was dissention. A s for the University Foundation, the single contribution of its president, John Germany, during the long months of trial was x his procurement.of a pair of porcelain birds to gather dust in a museum showcase. Judg e .was Germany's bird gift x rep resentative of the almost total lack of genuine committment on the part of the University's so-called supporting organization. That a small number of Foundation members gave sincere encouragement to the University behind the

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...i. scenes was little consolation when the desp)Tate need was for a clear voice of support and defense from the leadership of the organization. This, then, was the lonely and almost helpless moo d of the \19/ young University when, on October &i, the Board of Control convened in Gainesville for its regular monthly meeting. It was Homecoming at the University of Florida, and the Board met in solemn' session while satirical skits put on by students lampooned Senator Johns and his :j.nvestigators, Governor Bryant, the Board and others The crowds roared approval at the -.._c f"-' of Johns in search of perverts and subvents, but there was no levity in the Board room, where two deadly serious matters of business were attended to. The first was the release o f the document implementing the suggestions it had made in September, and with its appearance the.seeds of a system-wide faculty revolt were p lanted. If the faculties of the four state that a un-loving colleg e f:Lunk-out \ < \ the behest of Governor Bryant,) was the author of stringent new set of regulations, their revolt would surely have been irmnediate. As it was, the regulations themselves---on hiring, visiting speakers, fingerprinting, teaching materials, sex deviation and religion---were offensive enough to make immediate concern over their authorship seem secondary. But the implementation statement, serious as it was, did not produce the biggest fireworks at that Board meeting. Another action, taken privately, erupted into the headlines three days later---October 23---and once again the University of South Florida

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-n. was plunged into a struggle for survival. The action xxx involved what was to become the first test case against the implementation document itself, and the central figure was an assistant professor of English at the University of S o uth Florida who, just seven weeks after joining the faculty, was suspended by President Allen. came r Sheldon N G rebstein to the University of South Florida faculty on September 1 1962 as an assistant professor of English. A specialist in American literature, he held a master's degree from Columbia and a Ph D from Michigan State---both with honors---and had taught for nine years at the University of Kentucky. The 34-year-old professor's publications included a biography of Sinclair ,, Lewis and a casebook on the Scopes 'Monkey Trial, as well as a long list of literary criticisms and scholarly reviews. Among the courses he was assigned to teach was English 221 Advanced Writing. Primarily for upperclassmen, the class included a few sophomores and, according to the University catalog, emphasized "practice in the personal essay, critical review and narrative sketch. '1 Grebstein met the class of 31 assignments---for October 5---included these words: "Podhoretz essay on the Beats distributed for futureuse.11 The ttpodh oretz essay" was an article which appeared in 19.58 in an issue of the Parti.san Review. The article was called

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151 "The KnowNothing Bohemians," and was written by Norman Podhorets, editor of Commentary, another highly regarded literary journal. In it, Podhoretz analyzed the literary efforts of the so-called ) "Beat Generation", and of their leading light, Jack Kerouac, in particular, and with admirable intellectual finesse he systematically di.sassembled the fatuous framework around which the justifications of beat writing were wrapped. Podhoretz said "the spirit of hipsterism and the Beat Generation strikes me as the same spirit which animates the young savages in leather jackets who have been running amuck in the last few years with their switch-blades and zip guns," and he called their "worship of primitivism and spontaneity more than a cover for hostility to intelligence; it arises from a pathetic poverty of feeling as I well." To illustrate these and other of his scathing he quoted several particularly coarse and offensive passages, each one an example of the empty and purposeless spewings of "the spiritually underprivileged and the crippled of soul, outpourings "from the guts rather than the brain. Grebstein reproduced and distributed the Fodharetz essay to his class as an outstanding example of a professionally written review and as a responsible criticism of Beat literature. He had used the essay numerous times in his classes since its appearance four years earlier, and his high opinion of it had .been confirmed by its appearance in 1961 in a college textbook being used b y more than 100 colleges and universities. Having come to the University of South Florida soon after the appearance of the Johns Committee report, Grebstein was certainly aware of the controversy, though he not have fully grasped the impact or the implications of the investigation

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152 If he had any reservations about distributing material that might be used out of context to reinforce the committee's charges against the University, they were overshadowed by the unmistakable tone and quality of the essay as a whole, and he assumed---incorrectly, as it turned out---that it would be viewed objectively e;yn1rtLs s' T&&s not as an exercise in vulgarity but as a polished and professional piece of critical writing. There was no discussion of the lurid portions of the essay in subsequent class meetings, and the assignment passed without comment or reference to them. It was later said that Grebstein remarked as he distributed the essay, "Don't show this to the Johns Committee, but he did not recall having made that remark, and if he did hewas not unlike a majority of the faculty who like the student body and the administration, were preoccupied with past events. was unaware that one of his students was the daughter of C Neil Smith, whose dissatisfaction with \took f the University was well known. Smith's daughter the essay to her father, who in turn gave it to Mark Hawes, the Johns C ommittee's counsel. By the time the Board of Control assembled in Gainesville on October 1 9 Charley Johns had shown each Board member the essay and demanded Grebstein's dismissal, and the Board, properly shocked and sufficiently intimidated, shared wholeheartedly the senator's indignation. President Allen was confronted with the Board's demands as soon as he arrived for the meeting, and for the first time he saw the essay. Dismayed by the eruption of a new crisis and by the vulgar passages of the essay as he hurriedly skimmed over them, he defend the professor's judgment. Stalling for time, he summoned Grebstein

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1.53 and three administrative officers to Gainesville, and by the time they arrived the President what he would do. Though the angry Bo ard wanted a summary dismissal of the professor, Allen pointed out to them that Board procedure specified that suspension and a hearing must precede dismissal, and after a brief and unproductive meeting with Grebstein and the deans, the president imposed the suspension. Things happened quickly after that. On Monday, the president sent Grebstein a letter confirming the you in our conference Friday. H e --. the essay and thus "having wilfully violated the intent and the spirit of the Board of Control p olicy" relating to selection of teaching materials. That policy---requiring all materials to be "pertinent to the subject being taught, the best material available and obtainable, and within the purview of good taste and common decency"---had originated in the Board's. September 14 response to the investigation and was formally established in the implementat.ion document adopted by the Board on October 20, the day after Grebstein's suspension was imposed. Grebstein immediately asked for a hearing, and when the story broke in the papers t h e next day he was quoted as saying "I am totally convinced that I acted wholly within my rights and responsibilities as a colleg e professor. The Division of Languages and Literature, in which Grebstein taught, denounced the suspension and called for a me eting of the faculties of all the University's colleges, and the campus chapter of AAUP also condemned the suspension. The AAUP said the action would "subject every class and every professor to the biased or immature c ensorship of anyone who chooses t o complain to the Board, and

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154 called on the professors of Florida's other state universities "to study the implications of this act as an encroachment on their own future responsibility as teachers. The demand for an all-University faculty meeting brought to a head a festering grievance of many faculty members that no such meeting s had been held. They pointed to the inconsistency of having an abundance of united and interrelate d ties among the colleges on one hand, but refusing formal faculty meetings on the other, and they complained that the all-University approach seemed to extend to everything except suc h meetings. T o t h e unrest create d by Grebstein's suspension and the dissatisfaction over the implementation statement was thus added a third complaint---that Dr. Allen would not deal directly with his faculty and would \ not demonstrate a willingness for communication on the campus to flow up to the top administration as well as down to the faculty. The president's formality and aloofness seriously harmed a., his relations with the faculty atntime when the need for understanding was critical. He was unwilling---perhaps unable---to deal effectively with those who sought to help him, and in his p recarious position in the vise between the Board and the faculty did not give leadership to the wh e tried to inject some reason into t h e emotional struggle. His silence was interprete d as fright b y some and as agreement with the Board by others, and a small group of faculty members unacquainted with his predicament became for awhile the dominant voice on the campus. These faculty members, most of them English professors, D F Fleming and (

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155 the assault reached into their area they reacted strongly. Some of them, with a dogmatism as absolute and as narrow as the University's most extreme adversaries, unconsciously aided the Johns Committee by blaming the suspension entirely on Allen and agitating for his ouster. Nothing could have pleased the committee more, and it is likely that the Board of Control also welcomed this faculty criticism of Allen, for it diverted attention \k>-A.t from the intrusive role the Board in the suspension. Strangly enough, one of the calmest and most rational faculty members on the campus during the height of the e motional drama was Sheldon Grebstein himself. While some of his colleagues neared revolt, he left his fate in the hands of the faculty committee appointed by Allen to hear his case, and his only utterance beyond the brief issued through the AAUP was a calmly written explanation of his choice of the Podhoretz' It ended with these words: "I agree without reservation that the article contains language and description which are not suitable f o r children. However, I do not regard university as children and I do not regard myself a s a teacher of children, but as a member of an adult intellectual community. It was with this attitude that I came to the University of South Florida a few weeks ago. It'was with this attitude that I brought the article into my classr. oom It was with this attitude I thought it would be regarded by all concerned. The article can stand on its own merits. It is a scathing attack written by a reputable writer upon a corrupt literary cult, and it is a warning that we must not follow the kind of behavio r tha t the Beat Generation advocates. I cannot in all conscience feel that such a piece of writing has

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156 been harmful to my students at the Universit y of South Florida. The nine faculty members appointed by President Allen to hear Dr. Grebstein's appeal of t h e s uspension began.their deliberations in an atmosphere .of emotional confusion. O n the campus, t h e AAUP insisted on the faculty's right to petition for a general faculty meeting, but urged postponement of such meeting until the Grebstein committee had concluded its hearing s An administration official counseled patience, saying "time is on the side of due process, both for the faculty member concerned and for the University. Students, through meetings and resolutions, denounced the Johns C ommittee and the Board. One faculty..:.m e:rp.ber concluded -that Q-rebsteii:l was. 11IJ1arked for destruction by the right wing" before he ever set foot on the USF campus. 11He edited rThe Monkey Trial, 1 he 1 s a Jew a!nd a liberal, 11 the professor said. "They must have had him pegged from the beginning. Off the campus, Charley Johns made news with the admission that a student had turned the essay over to the committee, and that he in turn had given it to the Board. And while speaking of the Board, Johns praised the implementation document highly. "I think it's mighty nic e he said. "I think we've got a fine Board of Control---they're all fine men who want to give our children the best education, and that's not what all these versi ty men would do. It 1 s a pretty serious situation. 11 Three other developments beyond the confines of the University also found their origin in the heated afte rmath of the suspension, and all three were significant to the survival of the University of South Florida. One of these---the editorial response in the actually not a new development but rather a continuation, particularly in the Tampa Tribune and the St. Pet e rsburg Times,

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160 To 'get at these questions, the committee communicat-ed by h 1 tt 1 t th ht t p e er RXAH persona 1n erv1ew w1 e1g _een pas and present supervisors and associates of Grebstein's, and a number of present and former students; it interviewed ten recognized literary experts on the professional quality of the Podhoretz essay, and processed fifty completed questionnaires from colleges and universities using the textbook containing the, essay; and finally, it interviewed or obtained written statements from all thirty-one members of the class. The committee concluded that Dr. Grebstein's "qualifications to competently judg e evaluate and select materials" for t h e class in question "are unquestionable and unimpeachable. It found that the essay wa s pertinent to the subject being taught, I adding "As a matter of record, not a single objection to the material' s use for reasons of non-pertinency was made. (All thirty-one students, including c Smith's daughter, agreed that the material was pertinent to the c o u rse. ) To the question of whether the material was "the best available and obtainable, the committee concluded)'it was "impossible to determine whether the Podhoretz essay is the single best piece of writing for the assignment, but was in agreement that "it is among the very best, and presented overwhelming testimony to support that view. The question of "good taste and comm o n decency" was dealt with at length by the committee, and the conclusion---based on a ffirmative responses from all but five of more than a hundred people q uestioned---held that t .he essay clearly met these standard s Only two of the thirty-one students had even qualified reservations abmut the taste of the material, and only two o f the fifty colleges and universities responding to the questionnaire felt the material

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161 was in poor taste. Next, the committee reached the conclusion that Grebstein's use of the essay KXX followed an earnest professional decision on his part and was in no way a wilful attempt to violate Board of Control policy. And finally, the committee concluded that Dr. G r ebstein's use of the essay conformed to Board policy on pertinency, quality and taste; that he in no way intended to violate the policy; and that he was a man of responsible judgment capable of selecting his own teaching material. "The Committee therefore recommends immediate reinstatement of Dr. Grebstein to xkR his duties ,at the Universit y of South Florida. In an addendum the committee made other recommendations, including a change in Board policy to prevent member before the charges a gainst him and rescinding of the implementation document in favor of one drawn up with faculty assistance The testimony and evidence in support of Grebstein was so completely overwhelming that there appeared no wa y Dr. Allen could reject it. Still, t h e essay had become such an emotional issue that the Board of Control remained as adamant as ever in its opinion both of the material and of Grebstein himself. Allen received the report just before leaving for the November 9 Board meeting, but he did not take it with him. Another meeting was scheduled for November 16 in Gainesville, and the showdown would come t here. Before the November 9 meeting, there were more developments. N ew editorials supporting the protesting professors appeared around the state, and the AAUP at privately-owned Jacksonville University added its voice to the debate. The Jacksonville

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162 institution's president, Dr. Franklyn A. Johnson, said in a statement that he supported the p osition of his AAUP chapter, and he added these conclusions, based on his experience as a professor, administrator, businessman and American patriot "pre serving American freedom": "Responsible academic freedom is a key part of the heritag e our nation's liberties, vigilantly fought for since colonial days. I did not fight in order that some crippling form of political, social, religious or literary party line and indoctrination m i ght be fastened upo n this state's young peopilie and the facultie s teaching them I d o not share the lack of confidence in our young people by men of little faith. Our Florida university students will not be corrupted by new ideas, or by what is today called "literature, 11 or b y an occasional speaker with "1-vhom virtually all of us would disagree. If we have not confidence i n these young Floridians, all talk o f b uilding 1a great university s ystem is hollow, and we may as well resign ourselve s t o state and private universities alike of mediocrity and decline." A statement of such outspoken indignation from Dr. Allen or any of the other state university presidents would probably have cost him his j o b President Johnson himself stayed only a year or so longer before answering t h e call of a more fertile academi c vineyard in California. Florida clearly was not far enough out of the wilderness to keep a man of such forthrightness. -LkL -0 s k On the camp uses of nd the University of Florida stud ents were having their say. The Student whose vice president was the son of Jane and Stockton Smith, p a ssed a strongly-worded of creativity and intellect to politicians' policietJ," and asking for "the right

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1 the ranks of the vate came a of the faculty senate at Baptist-run Stetson University, protesting Grebstein's suspension. In uneasy response to the growing protests, the Board met in Jacksonville November 9 and announced that. the presidents of t h e universities and two faculty representatives from each school would the question of pointed to

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163 and freedom to be challenged and forced to use our minds to the utmost of our capabilities." Young Stockton Smith Jr. did not support the resolution. At Gainesville, the University of Florida newspaper said the Board of Control had "bungled irresponsibly" in forcing Grebstein's suspension, and had shown "an extreme lack of knowledge of their charge---our uni versi ties In Tampa the ci tiz.ens 1 group organizing to support the University sent a telegram signed by ten of its members to the Board of Control at its meeting in Jacksonville. The telegram said it was "not the function of the Board to teach classes or to tell others how to teach them, adding, "It is as unthinkable that a group of laymen should reach into the classroom and tell a professional person how to teach as it would be for the board of directors of a hqspita l to stand over the shoulder of a surgeon and try to tell him how to carry thr.ough an operation. The l..:t.._herv the Board to support the faculties of the universities and their administrators against outside pressures. In Tallahassee, a visiting team of evaluators for thesouth's agency looked askance at the Board's implementation directives and even more critically at the Johns Committee, and the official senates of the University of South Florida and tpe University of Florida joined the Florida State senate and the AAUP chapters o'f all the institutions in condemning the Board 1 s new Ww i C'_a.Mv,_ a.. policies. 6-k In 'Unea y response to the growing protests, the Board met in Jacksonville November 9 and announced that the presidents of the universities and two faculty representatives from each school would meet with the Board at an early date to discuss the question of academic freedom and responsibility. All signs p ointed to

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164 the Board's November meeting in Gainesville as the battleground for the revolt, for the "summit conference" on academic freedom would begin there, and the now-celebrated Grebstein case would be resolved, one way or the other. In the week leading up to that meeting, the Tampa Junior Chamber of Commerce added its backing in a statement urging P r esident Allen to accept the recommendations of the faculty committee on Grebstein and criticizing political meddling by the Johns Committee. Johns himself, looking ahead to the regular told Bob Turner the Tam a Times nex session of the Legislature, the life of his committee definitely should be extended as a continuing investigative tool in the state university The Legislature was then meeting iri special session to seek a s olution to its own malapportionment, and Johns was joined by Senator W C Herrell of Miam i in a successful effort to get the Podhoretz essay made a part of the Senate' s permanent r ecord so the people "will know first-hand why the University had to let him go. Behind the scenes, ysenator Sam Gibbons and Tampa Mayor Julian Lane---t h e latter very reluctantly---asked Gov e r nor Farris Bryant to put an end to the attacks on the University Lane agreed to ask for the governor's help only on the grounds that Tampa's economy was suffering as a result of the attacks, but it was all to no avail anyway, since the governor to become involved. So the months of crisi s had built to a climax, and the crucial date finally arrived.

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165 Since the Board of Control was a public body, its meetings were required to be open to the press. The tense meeting on \_15; was an exception, however. Since the conference on academic freedom involved participation by the university presidents and their faculty representatives as well as the members of the Board, the press was told it was an informal and unofficial gathering and no members of the press would be admitted. Reporters would not have known of the meeting at all if it had not been for an anonymous tip that the long-awaited coqfrontation w o uld take place the night before the formal Board meeting The private session was held in the paneled board room next Reitz's administrative Board members; Dr. J Broward Culpepper, executive director of the Board; the presidents of the University of Florida, Florida State University, Florida A & M University and the University of South Florida, and two faculty representatives from each; and the president of the newly-founded but unopened Florida Atlantic University. At the regular Board meeting the next day, chairman Baya M Harrison issued a statement saying the group had me t for four hours "in a constructive discussion of academic freedom and its related responsibilities. The statement said 11An atmosphere of complete cooperativeness prevailed, and added that "a smaller group would continue the discussions at the earliest possible time. The "atmosphere of complete cooperativeness" was hardly that. Between 8 p m and midnight the more than twenty persons in attendance spoke in turn for specified lengths of time about

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166 academic freedom in general and the implementation document in particular, and the chasm that separate d the Board from the faculties was painfully apparent. One Board m e mbe r Dr. Charles Forman of Ft. Lauderdale, spoke at length ab6ut the past troubles of the University of South Florida, and his sentiments were unmistakable. "I would never send a son or daughter of mine t o that University, he said in a startling admission of distrust and dissatisfactio n with one of the institutions he helped to govern. Other Board members were less dogmatically negative, but their statements and those 6f the faculty representatives s till little agreement. One of the most astounding comments of the evening came fro m Dr. Kenneth Williams, the new president of Florida Atlantic Universit y While his felldw presidentland the facukty members stared with open-mouthed disbelief, Williams defended the document stnongly, saying he saw nothing wrong with the policies on hiring and that none of the faculty he was seeking for the new had raised the slightest question .about it. The other policies on visiting speakers, fingerprinting review of t eaching materials and the rest were equally sound, he said. The selection of Williams to head the new university for juniors, seniors and graduate students made an interesting story in itself, and served as a prime illustration of the political vulnerability of the state university system. the Board was seeking to fill the presidenc y it narrowed a long list of candidates down to two men, one the dean of a strong graduate school at an Eastern university and the otper the president of I Dade Count y Junir College---Kenneth Williams. Dr. W illiams was formerly president of the junior college in Ocala, hometown of

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167 Governor Farris Bryant, and he was a longtime friend of the governor's. His experience as a university administrator---particularly the type university Florida Atlantic was to be--. -was nil, however, and the Board, after long deliberation, unanimously selected the graduate school dean from the East to take the post. When the Board privately made its choice known to Governor Bryant, the governor flatly refused, whereupon the Board reconsidered, unanimously selected Williams, and enthusiastically announced thei r choice at the next formal acceptance of the much-disputed implementation directives Williams's count e rparts from the other universities spok e forcefully a gainst them. Even more outspoken were the faculty representatives, who frankly called .)(... the oppressive and unirnforcible. The University of South Florida's representatives were Dr. Thomas F Stovall, who had chaired the Grebstein committee, and Dean Russell M Cooper. At the conclusion of the unproductive sessi'on, Stovall and one faculty member from each of the other three operating universities were named to meet the next afternoon with Board vice chairman Frank Buchanan and Gert S chmidt, another member of the Board, to begin drawing up a statement on academic freedom that might serve as a starting point for revision of the implementation document. The Board members had by that time been given copies of the Stovall committee's report on Grebstein, and arrangements were made for them to meet privately the next evening with President Allen, at which time he would make known to them his decision on the suspended professor.

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168 On the afternoon of November 16, while the Board of Control was in session, members Buchanan and S chmidt met separately with the four faculty representatives to begin drafting the statement on academic freedom. With them was the state's assistant attorney general, Ralph E Odum, who brought with him forty-five mimeographed pages of carefully researched background material, including historical definitions, laws and court cases on academic freedom. President Allen, meanwhile, _quietly prepared for his night meeting with the Board. He had had the Stovall comm ittee report for a week, but he had not discussed its contents, though word had quickly s pread that it recommended Grebstein's reinstatement. in the afternoon, the president made his move. With an eight-page statement in his hand, he placed calls to the Tam p a Tribune and the S t Petersburg Times to tell their editors he would reinstate Grebstein; Allen said he would have the entire Stovall committee report delivered to them the following morning, and he asked---and got---pledges from both papers that they would print the report in its in their editions of Sunday, November 18. With this groundwork laid and his committment to I ..._.... a course of action finally made, Dr. Allen took his eight-page stateme'nt summarizing the report and removing Grebstein' s suspension into the fateful meetihg with the Board. From seven until ten o'clock that evening, the p resident debated alone with the Board members and their executive director in the second-floor conference room of the University of Florida administration building The secret of the meeting had been weil kept, and no repnrters or televisio n cameramen waited in the hall outside. Across the campus, cheers and singing echoed from a pep rally, and few lights burned in the ivied halls that had been

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169 deserted for the weekend. Occasionally a figure could be seen rising to pace the floor in front of the conference room windows, and then, when it was over, all of them stood, and one by one they drifted out of the room. President Allen emerged smiling, but the smile could not hide his fatigue or his disappointment. "I've reinstated him, he said, nwith a censure for bad judgment. And we won't be printing the report. No one those who were went on at that tense confrontation of President Allen and the Board of Control. That the president had committed himself to full reinstatement without prejudice is clear; that the Board, almost to a man, wanted Grebstein fired is equally clear. Behind closed doors Dr. Allen had faced seven men who not only held Grebstein's fate 0 but his own in their Perhaps he volunteered the compr1(mise; perhaps it was forced upon him. Whatever the case, Dr. Allen wore the official smile that cloaked his true feelings. He knew full well that no one would be satisfied with the decision: ;(at the Board, or the Johns Committee, or Jane Smith and the other militant conservatives, for all of them wanted Grebstein dismissed; not the faculty, or the AAUP, or the Stovall committee, or. .Grebstein himself, for all of them felt the overwhelming evidence demanded full reinstatement. "In this job there are always two major groups I have to a n swe r to, he said, "the faculty and the Board of Control. I can't afford to completel y alienate either of them. So he chose instead the only alternative course---partial alienation of both groups, and of all the other principals in the conflict. Thenext morning in Tampa, after only a few hours of sleep, the president revised his reinstatement explanation to include the reprimand and censure "for poor judgment .in this instance,

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:IHJM;w..,jjill 170 and before issuing it he called Dr Grebstein to tell him of the decision. The two newspapers had to be notified that they would not get copies of the Stovall committee report, and that move added to the dissatisfaction. Instead of the report, the papers got Allen's revised statement and a four-page news which tried to soften the censure b y burying it in the third paragraph. Ruby Hart Miami-based reporte r for the New York Times, was on hand to get the story for her paper, her report in the next day's Times played down the censure, as did the account in the St. Petersburg The Tampa .... .....,. _,, ,__..ribune mentioned the censure inits headline and quoted as saying the reinstatement "now proves without doubt to all concerned that I am completely innocent of the charges against me, and on the other side, Baya Harrison said for the Board that "Dr Allen is in obvious disagreement with the finding s of the committee, in that the material not the standards he had set for the University. matter was far from closed---as the Tampa and St. Petersburg papers once again pointed out editorially---and the debate raged on.

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meet the stand.ards he had set for the Uni yersi ty." On the campus, t h e nine members of the Stovall committee met on Sunday night for the last t i me. Staring in shocked disbelief at the day's newspaper accounts of the reinstatement and censure, they showed itter disappointment. The censure seemed to them not only a rebuke of Grebstein but a rejection of the report they had .so diligently and laboriously Said one of them: "He (Allen) gave in to save his own job, and the irony of it all is that he'll probably lose it anyway. Maybe Millican will be our next president." The reference was to Dean Charles Millican of the University's College of Business Administration. Because of his side interests as a Southern Baptist minister, his close friendships with some members of t h e State Senate's powerful' Pork Chop Gang, and his own very conservative nature, Millican was often mentioned in campus gossip as a likely successor to Allen, should the latter be fired. Some faculty members Jand administrators as well, suspected the ambitious Millican of working quietly behind the scenes with opponents of the University to bring about just such an eventuality, no concrete evidence was presented to support that contention. Whatever the case, there was no doubt that President Allen's decision had placed him in danger of being toppled from any one of several directions, even without a push from inside. The matter was far from closed---as the Tampa Tribune and the St. Petersburg Times onc e again pointed out editorially-aged on. One of the most crude reactions to the continuin g conflic t cam e t he foll owing Tuesday on the floor of the S tate Senat e Senator B e rnar d Parrish o f Titu s ville, in a d efense of the Johns Committee, said t h e committee' s charges t th t had been "es tablished" in v o lurnnous testlmony, ye a els s and o thers on the faculty were cri t i c i sing the c ommit tee for uncovering s u c h conditions. To the protesting faculties h e said, "let them leav e if they don't like it," a nd he added, I when they g o home their mothers will run out f rom under the front porches and bite the m

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171 For the first time, Hillsborough County's Senator Tom Whitaker rose to the U n iversity' s defense. Calling it "an institution in which we all should take pride, he condemned "the further unwarranted attacks" on it, saying they had caused greater unjustified embarassment to the faculty. He said the University's problems were "no greater or any less" than other institutions he knew of, and pointed out that no prosecutions had been b rought to any law officials of the county. Parrish, I apparently realizing the crudit y of his remark, re spon.ded with an apology. The Tribune, i n an editorial, called Parrish' s statement "a shocking demonstration of legislative irresponsibility" and warned o nce again, "Unless responsible leaders in the executive and legislative departments begin to lift indignant voices against these petty assaults on Florida's academic fraternity, many of its members will do as Senator Parrish suggests and leave. Bu t it wo n t be the departing professors who are bitten---it will be A hundred members of the the whole future of higher edu cation in Florid a of South Florida faculty responded MiLk to the fenator's remarks with a telegram to Governor Bryant d emanding public x censure of Parrish. The borrowing a phrase from the Board of Control's own controversial policy statement, said the senator' s statement. was "beyond the purview of good taste and common decency. The governor did not reply. t heir Less publicized but far more indicative of mfxEH was another resolution of the and some two colleges also attended. The informal

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172 group hotly debated Allen's reprimand of Grebstein, and there was strong sentiment for a mass resignation or a demand that the president be fired. Such intemperate reaction might wellhave resulted in a disast]rous public resolution had it not been for the calm reason of one man. The man was Sheldon Grebstein, and his courageous plea for caution and maturity averted a disaster. Grebstein was far from happy with the censure, but he kept his displeasure under disciplined control In public statements following his reinstatement, he expressed his gratitude "for the overwhelming support and encouragement which has been extendep_ to me by my colleagues," and though he said "I may be dogged fo:r;> the rest of my life," he had no public criticism of Allen. "I hope the president's displeasure with my judgment will have no permanent effect on me or the University," he said, and he would aay no more than that.

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1J2 be fired. Such intemperate reaction might well resulted in a disasterous public resolution had it not for the calm reason of one man. The man was Sheldon Grebstein, and his courageous plea for caution and maturity The B o ar'd of Control's oppressive. implementation and the suspension of Dr. Grebstein had both issued out of the mid-October meeting of the Board, and for six weeks---until the beginning of December---they had been a constant source of and unrest in the state, and in educational circles lsewhere. Faculty members attending meeting s outside the state ere beseiged with questions, and press accounts of such new arassments as the remarks of Senator Parrish kept the fires The visiting committee of the prestigous Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, while Florida 1State University during the Grebstein affair, had taken unofficial but highly critical notice of the state's troubles with political eddlers, and when the association placed the University of on probation late in November it warned that "any encroachment by pressure groups, investigating committees or other agencies upon the freedom of the faculty, the dministration or the students to learn and teach" would be looked upon with strong disfavor in any of the states under its jurisdiction. Plainly, Florida's higher education system was staggering under the weight of a controversy that threatened to ruin its modest but growing reputation, and rip it asunder in the process. The fight between the Johns Committee and the universities,

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173 with the Board of Control {f.rantically'\..!_ryingjto stay on both sides, had reached critically serious proportions, and people throughout Florida were beginning to speak out on one side or the other. :t-1ore newspapers, including the Miami Herald, the Sarf!sota the Lakeland Ledger, the Herald Tr1bune, the Daytona Beac News-Journal and the Pensacola Journal, added their editorial voices in s upport of the universities. Student newspapers at the University of South Florida, the Uni ver si ty of Florida and Florida State Un i versi ty were unanimous in their defense of the faculties, and the faculties themselves continued to stand firm in their opposition to the Bo ard of Control' s policies. Evidence of the nature of the protest was seen in the fact that the most widely q u oted statements made by faculty m e mbers were those of Dr. C K Yearley of the University of Florida and Dr. Michael Kasha of Florida State, both of whom were eloquent i n their defense of academic freedom. Less publicized but nevertheless open criticism of the Johns Committee and the Board of Control-was expressed by a growing number of professional organizations and by such groups as the Tampa citizens' committee of ministers and others. Letters to the editors increased significantly, and were overwhelmingly in support of the universities. It is interesting to note that of South Florida's during the Univ ersl y ong ordeal, the dozens of letters supporting the institution which appeared in the Tampa Tribune included one signed by the father and brother of Stockton Smith Sr. and one signed by the female student whom Professor John Caldwell was accused of misleading. Against this growing body of defenders, though, stood a still-powerful coalition of conservatives. Though a s mall voice

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174 in support of the universities was beginning to be heard in the State Senate, that body was still dominated by Charley JohnB and the Pork Chop Gang, and Senator Johns' committee retained overwhelming support there. Jane and Stockton Smith, armed with an updated version of their indictment of the University of South Florida, were busily soliciting support of their position from conservative groups in the Tampa area. In a long and rambling talk to the Plant City Conservative Club, Jane Smith included not only the University but the churches, the United Nations, the so-called "peace race" and the Tampa Tribune in her denunciations. The small audience sat at rapt attention in the back room of a Plant City restaurant, listening as Mrs. Smith wove a mixture of facts, opinions,IK distortions and outright untruths into one loosely connected message. The gist of it was thatshe was on a crusade ("I know my Maker has led me to this fight"), and the audience, for the most part, joined it with her. Three USF students who were present tried without success to defend their institution, and Tampa Times Ward Sinclair, whose factual account of the meeting was carried in the next day's editions, Boon found himself left on a limb by the timidity of his managing editor, who succumbed to right wing pressure much of Sinclair's report the following day. Another opposition statement was issued early in December, on the eve of another Board of Control m eeting, when 62 well-known Tampans Bent the Board and the Governor a letter condemning Dr. Grebstein, the Podhoretz essay, academic freedom and the Tampa Tribune, and calling on the Board to adopt regulations to insure "that decency, high moral standards and a respect for the beliefs of others prevail" at the University of South Florida. Virtually all of the signers of the letter lived within a mile of the Palma Ceia Golf and Country Club,

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line conservative ruling clique,,.. and the now-familiar names of the University's harshest critics included, along with some surprising additions. Amid all this struggling there arose one other voice, and that of the Board of Control i t was vague and equivocal. the voice of Governor Farris B r y a n t who homas W enner more than six months earlier had spoken only once, a question he a u thority of the Johns Committee. governor, as a graduate of the University of Florida and the Harvard L aw S chool, should have had a better than averag e unde rstanding of freedom, but his remarks did not reveal it. Speaking in the heated a ftermath'of Gregstein's reinstatement, he said the Legislature had a right to investigate the state universities, which he viewed as agencies ''in the administrative

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175 branch of government." Academic freedom is not "the end-all and be-all," he said; "It doesn't rise to any higher lev:els or sink to any lower depths than other elements of freedom." The governor, in' a lengthy "but-on-the-other-hand" discourse, of freedom and responsibility, but h e avoided any discussion of whether or not G rebstein had properly exercised his responsibility, and he gave no i ndication at all that he supporte d the universities or the Board of Control against outside pressures of any kind. He did not, he said, see any in.dication that the state university syst, em had been hurt by investigations. The weakness of the state university system was illuminated clearly in the governor's remarks, for as the man who appointed members to the Board of Control.and as head o f the all-powerful State Board of Education, he was the final authority on all matters of public education in the state. tVhen he lef t the gate open for zealots and other manipulators with concealed motives to dabble in the educational structure, his colleagues on the Board o f Education and his appointees on the Board of defy him by slamming that gate. And far down the line of power and authority were the presidents of the universities, cau ght between intruders who had been invited i on the one hand and faculties who resented the intrusions on the o ther. While all this was going on, the committee of Board m embers and faculty representatives held several meetings to draft the document that hopefully would end the fight. The product of their deliberations was presented to the senate s of the four universities for modification and disnussion, and it was then ready for consideratio n b y the Board at its December 7 meeting i n B oca Raton. On the night before the meeting, a rumor swept the University of South

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176 Florida and the surrounding community that Jane and Stockton Smith and their compatriots would appear at the meeting to ask for *xiBNXxxNixroixxxXxxNMx the .dismissal of President Allen and at least three faculty members. The could not be confirmed and did not materialize, but partly because of i t w hose efforts in behalf of the institution the small nucleus of University s upporters 1 n the commun1ty mustered 150 signatures on a telegram to the Board protesting "the continued harrassment of the University" by "pressure groups whose'prurient censorship, if strictly followed, would suppress the Bible and Shakespeare from print." On e member of the Board, Dr. Charles Forman of Ft. Lauderdale, t hreatened before the meeting to publicly censure Dr. Allen and others at the University of South Florida, in pnotest against the reinstatement of Grebstein. H e was finally prevailed upon to keep silent, and his only comment on the matter was a charge that the St. Petersburg Times had lied when it said in an editorial that the Board was being intimidated. Thus, onc e again the of disput e were drawn, and a confused and divided Board was called upon to return peace to the scene. The controversy had badly long-standing frien dships and political ties, as well as family and professional relations, not only in the universit y system but in the communities and in the Board itself but the worst damage had been inflicted upon a system of higher education whose Achilles heel was almost severed by a political axe and the g a ping wound lay bare for all to see. The academic freedom document w hich went before the Board on De cember 7 was adopted without comment. The statement superseded the much-contested implementation document of October 19 and

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177 it dealt in different terms with the same issues. It said each institutio n vJOuld "examine carefully the qualifications and records of those individuals who are to be employed by it, not only with regard to their professional and academic competency but also with regard to t heir general character and their moral conduct. It also said "religion may he properly discusse d and a nalyzed" in the classroom, so long as it was done "wi thou. t advocacy or i ndoctrinatio n 11 and it said "the individual scholar1 t had "the right and responsibility to choose his materials, 1 1 and that the materials should \ be 11amon g the best available, germane and in g ood taste within the context of the educational or scientific purpose.11 Gone were the references in the implementation document to guest speakers, the extensive screening procedures for prospective employees, the written process of selecting teaching materials, and the require d quarterly reports on homosexuality. In short, while the n ew statement cove r e d essentially the same matters, it did so in a much more general way and it returned the responsibility for these matters to the presidents and their faculties. The statement asked each institution to prepare its own p r ocedures for implementin g the regulations and to submit them to the B o ard for a pproval. And it prefaced these policies with the following statement on academic freedom and responsibility: "The Bo a r d of C ontrol a s the l e g a lly. constituted a gency for policy making a n d supervision of the state universities believes that academic freedom and responsibility are essential Uv.u... -ce to the fpll bo::;??st

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178 development of knowledge, research endeavors and creative activity, a university faculty and student body must be free to cultivate a s pirit of inquiry and scholarly criticism and to examine ideas in an atmosphere of freedom and confidence. A similar atmosphere is required for university teaching. Consistent with the exercise of academic responsibility, a teache r must have freedom in the classroom in discussing his subject. The universit y student must likewise have the opportunity to study a full spectrum of ideas, opinions and beliefs, so that he may acquire maturity for analysis and judgment. Objedtive and skillful exposition of such matters is the duty of every teacher. Along with this carefully-worded document, the press received .statements from Baya Harrison for the Board and from Dr. Drew Hartmann of the University of Florida, who spoke for the four faculty representatives who helped to prepare the document. Both statements commenting on the report were favorable, indicating that all concerned were generally satisfied with the result. N o one said the obvious: that the difference between the implementation doc)lrnent and the new policy on academic freedom was primarily one of semantics, and that polished phrases and admirable principles embodied in the new version were still subject to interpretation, as any statement must inevitably be. The unanswered question remained: Whose interpretation would b e used when the next crisis arose---the faculties', the administrations', the Board's, or the Johns Committee' s? But the relief that followed the Board's approval of the document all but overshadowed any remaining skepticism. the next day said the academic freedom issue was "resolved:' and

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179 editorials called the new policy1'a fair one. Dr. Thomas F Stovall, the University of South Florida's representative at the p olicy-drafting conferences, called the statement "more than a change in words, saying it handed back to the universities the job of polic ing and promoting academic freedom and responsibility in own ranks. 'fhere had beeWmisunderstanding of motives and attitudes on both sides," he said, add _ng, "The Board has now clarified its policy. The task of implementation has been correctly assigned to the administrators and. st.affs of each university. 1\AMu..d. -c.c; lfl t4ul d}, 1;; A s Stovall conceded in his statement', hovfever, some faculty members would not be so hopeful. Said one: "We've it for awhile---five or six years at least _Sure able to sell our nice weather, but this Grebstein thing has hurt those of us who are already here, and it's going to keep the really good prospects away. All this talk about a great university is just so much bunk---we're not even near the point where we could be great. And we never will be if we have a few more defeats like this one. In short, the new policy helped, and Grebstein1s return to the classroom helped, but these things did not repair the damage that had been done. The Johns Committee still enjoyed unrestricted freedom; academic freedom was no cause for encouragement; the Board's statement was an expression of good intentions, but not a demonstration of them; and Grebstein's censure stood as a warning to faculty members that their judgment was still subject to outside evaluation. President Allen's unpopular decision left him in a p recarious and.lonely position, and few people understood or appreciated how difficult the choice

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180 had been. As the Christmas season approached and the universities slowly settled into a quiet but uneasy routine, one member of the Stovall committee laid the passions of the crisis aside to reflect on what had transpired. To a colleague, _he gave this insightful evaluation: "Dr. Allen did the m ost courageous thing. H e had three choices: to recommend dismissal, to recommend reinstatement with censure, or to recommend reinstatement without prejudice. I think he deliberately retreated to the middle ground, after first attempting the c hoice most unacceptE!ble to the Board. The middle position was bound to be unpopular with himself, but he saw it as the only way out. The protected the University first and hurt him the most. Had he chosen either of the other alternatives he would have destroyed the University while retaining for himself the support of at least one faction. In his 'hierarchy of hurts' he placed himself, Grebstein, and the University, in that order. He' s not very popular a round here now, but I think he a better fate for what he did. And while several of his colleagues continued to demonstrate their disgust for the president, Grebstein himself remained on cordial, if somewhat formal, terms with the administration. He felt that a more determined and courageous president could have engineered a reinstatement without prejudice, but at the same time he saw the limitations the system imposed on the o ffice of president and he had more sympathy for xkE Dr. Allen as a person tha n did his disturbed colleagues. While he could not bring himself to approve of what the president had done, he was nonetheless unwilling, even in ,NXX X XB.XEN private conversations, to be harshly critical of h i m

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181 In the University of South Florida student newspaper's last editio n before the Christmas holidays, the editor presented a series of pro and con letters on the extended controversy, along with the Board of Control's new academic freedom statement and an editorial intended to "help to clear the air for all concerned. Saying the end of the year and the end of the school term was a good time to bring the conflict to a conclusion, the editorial said "further debate can only result in hard feeling s But two. o ther developments of note were recorded before 1 962 bowed out. The first was a ten-part series of articles on the Johns Committe e in the Da ytona Beach Morning Journal; and the second wa s a parting shot from Governor Farris Bryant. T h e Daytona Beach series, written by associate editor Mabel Norris Chesley, was a detailed study of the personnel, objective s and techniques of the Johns Committee. Mrs. Chesley transcribed, from records in the Stqte Treasurer's Office in Tallahasse e ever y voucher issued in the name of the Florida Le gislative Invest i gating Committee since its formation in 1956, a n d from these records she presented an amazing story that included these facts: -1:In six years, the c ommittee s pent well over $200,000 in tax funds. A total of $ 8 840. 3 8 was paid to "confidential informants. Of the more than $200,000 expended, $133, 0 9 2 of it went to the committee's attorney, Mark Hawes, and its chief investigato r R J Strickland, for "salarie s travel and h otel, miscellaneous expenses and 'confidential informant fees.'" Hawes drew a monthly retainer of $916.66, plus expenses, whether or not he did any work, and Strickland' s pay increased

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182 over the years from $625 to $700 to $750 a month, also plus expense s In the first three years of the committee 1 s existence, Hawes was "the highest paid public employee in Florida, on of hours worked, receiving $32 ,776.78 even though his per diem pay of $861 indicated that he days during the three y ear period. Strickland, during the same three year period, received more than $21 000 in salary, over $8, 000 in travel expenses and $5, 476 .97 for dispensation to unnamed informants. Mrs. Chesley's series reviewed the activities of the committee and the makeup of its membership, in addition to its paid employees, over the six years of its existence. She said Senator Charley Johns, its chairman during most of that time, was "a fire-eating segregationist, states' righter and foe of progressive education, and that most of the g.ommittee's past and present members were "his kindred in spirit. Since the committee "made a laughing stock" of race agitator John K asper in 1956, said Mrs. Chesley, the committee had extended its authority without legislative approval to probe into the activities of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, and then had branched off into a search for homosexuals and Communists in the state's universities. The exposure of Kasper, she said, was the committee's lone worthwhile contribution to the state. Mrs. Chesley reviewed the committee's 1958 investigation at the University of Florida, which she said led to the resignations of fifteen unnamed professors, all of whom were threatened with

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183 public charges of homosexuality. One of them said the secret interrogations he was subjected to were "like the Inquisitions must have been. Every word I said was distorted. I came away with the feeling of the noose on my neck because of the thoughts they yanked out of me The series also dealt w ith suits filed a gainst the committee by three Pinellas County school teachers and by the Niami chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union, and with the long investigation of the University of South Florida. In an editorial at the conclusion of the series, the papercalled on the Legislature to "end this ridiculous, wasteful travesty" at its 1963 session. Unfortunately, the Daytona Beach paper had a c i rculation too small to be influential, and n o part of the series was picked up by any of the state's larger papers. Thus the only d etailed examination of the Johns Committee and its activities to reach print during its most controversial year of existence passe d almost totally unnoticed i n the state. The final episode of 1962 was, in its way, a fitting climax to a year of events that often bear more resemblance to fiction than to reality. It took place in Tallahassee at a meeting of the state Cabinet on December 1 8 and appropriately enough, the central figure was Governor Bryant. The Cabinet had before it a recommendation from the Board of Control that it a pprove a low bid for construction of a physics building at the Univers i t y of South F l orida. At the same time, a report was received from Board of Control ar,chitect Forrest M Kelley covering the nature of r ock formations beneath the University' s campus Pointing out that limestone cavities had necessitated

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special preparations for the foundations of the building s Kelley said a grouting process devised for.the foundation of the physics building would cost than $10,000 and 184 was included in the total bid before the Cabinet for approval. In contrast, site preparations for the University's library had cost Bryant misinterpreted the report as a warning that the I University's 'buildings were in danger of sinking. "I just wonder if this calls for re-evaluation of the whole program, he said. "Someday they may have as many building s at the University of South Florida as they have at the University of Florida. I would feel awfully foolish if a building went down at one end. What I 1m r eally thinking about is if it would be better that we take our beating at an early date, or go along and take our beating on the next forty building s Every time we build we are taking an uncalculated risk that we are g oing to buil d over a sinkhole. 11aybe we should give some thought to a re-evaluation of our position. It might be better to take ()..t our beating and move on. .u '-'- "-.. No o n e could be sure, of his statement, what the Governor was "really thinking. perhaps he was genuinely concerned. But if his words were in reality a trial balloon to see if a suggestion to move the University would pass unchallenged, he soon got his answer. Within hours, architect Kelley had issued a statement saying "There is no danger of any of the cam pus buildings collapsing and Sam Gibbons was equally reassuring. "I don't think there' s any reason for anyone to get upset, he said. "I told the Governor that this same thing

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185 had come up back in 195 6 and the whole area had been core bored under Board of Control supervision." Paul H Smith S r., whose company had constructed one of' the University's earlier buildings, said the Cabinet was "unduly alarmed" about foundation, problems at the University. "There is not the slightest danger of any o f' the buiidings collapsing on account of' the :foundation, he said. Kelley's report had also that engineers and geologists had experienced subsurface problems on the campuses of the Universit y of Florida and Florida State University, b 'ut Bryant did not take notice of these. He also missed references in the rep o r t to the history of the problem on the University of South Florida campus and the various methods that had been used to compensate for it. Kelley's report said "the situation at the University of South Florida campus is not an unusual one since most of that area of the state has the same subsurface conditions. W e will explore each building as it comes up and decide on the least expensive method consistent with structural soundness. The Tampa Tribune reacted to the Cabinet's action with alarm. Precisely what the Governor meant was not clear, the paper said in an editorial, and i t concluded, "The University badly needs the b uildings. It also needs a solid foundation of I public confidence---and t his is hard to construct amid the loose talk in Tallahassee which raises fears that the campus is unsafe or thE!,t the University's construction money may be spent elsewhere. The St. Petersburg Times, which five years earlier had opposed :t.kR selection of the University's site, recognized that "we have long passed the stag e at which moving the University of South Florida to a better site could be considered. The Times also

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186 expressed its concern with "the thought that behind this sudden decision there may be some thought of bobtailing the University of South Florida in order to divert finances to the dream of a 1 space a g e institute 1 near Ca p e Canaveral." Tampa television station WTVT said in an editorial that either the Cabinet's fears "are greatly exaggerated, or else "somebody made one o f the big g est mistakes in the h istory of the state. There is a third poss ibility, which WTVT does not want to believe, t hat the whole affair was politically motivated, said the editorial. Had the matter not been so serious, it would have been funny indeed. But in addition to the funds allocated for the physics building, the University had a $205,000 grant from the National Institutes of Health for construction of a research wing, and .the the end of the year. Since the Cabinet had no more meeting s scheduled in December, the danger that t h e grant would be lost became the par amount concern of the University administration. Prompted by the widespread disapproval of the contract postponement and the imploring s of Dr. Allen and several concerned Tampans, Governor Bryant called a special meeting on December 22 to a pprove awarding of the contract in time to save the Federal grant. Once a gain, Forrest Kelley assured the G overnor and his associates that the buildings on the campus were firmly founded and in no danger of sinking. This tim e the Governor got the message. Governor Bryant had first visited the University South stood; Florida in March of 196 1 when half a dozen building s starkly the sand. Despite its unfinished look, he called it "the most functional and attractive arrangement I can imagine.

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I'm really pleased. A month later, he asked the Legislature to reduce the University's $6. 5 million capital outlay request---already approved by the Board of Control---to $2. 8 million. Such puzzling inconsistency was apparent once again in the "sinking campus" episode, but happily for the the end result was not as disappointing. Thus closed 1962, the stormiest year in the brief history of the University of South Florida, and surely one of the strangest an institution anywhere could experience, whatever its age. While the University was undergoing its trial by fire, the state of Florida was rocked by an encephalitis epidemic and a crippling freeze, reapportionment of the Legislature was a ballooning issue of tremendous importance, and John F Kennedy called Khrushchev's bold hand over Cuba. It was a time of change, and an infant university, learning how to fend for itself in the school of hard knocks, sought persistantly to adjust to the environment it found itself in. ir* ?} E:: In the University's wars of 1962, most of the headlines had gone to the men who became causes to be fought for---Jerome Davis, Thomas Wenner, D. F Fleming, Stockt0n Smith and his wife, Sheldon Grebstein, John Caldwell---and each victory or defeat of these protagonists obscured the larger issues and the mightier powers who struggled behind the scenes. The real combatants were institutions---the University of South Florida, the Johns Committee, the B oard of Control and the office-and though the period is remembered in terms of the Davis affair,

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188 the Fleming case, the Grebstein incident and their relationship to each other, the issues were not these but other larger and more basic matters for which the incidents served as examples. Davis, Wenner, Fleming, the Smiths, Caldwell, Grebstein and the others who appeared on the battlelines were a fundamental struggle that pitted a university and its governing board against a legislative committee and the governor of the state. The basic issue was this: How much power and autonomy actually rested in the hands of the Board of Control, and by extension, in the youngest university under it? And while the four principal institutions locked in a power struggle to answer this to tell the relative positions of the combatants. Charley Johns, with his eye on the upcoming 5ession of the Legislature, began 1963 with the confidence that his committee would be extended for another biennium. Baya Harrison, after having reache d an accord with the cautious faculties over the issue of academic freedom, entered the new year with his thoughts on the April meeting of the Legislature. Farris Bryant, in a reflective mood at the halfway point of his four-year term, said he "coulld enjoy being a professor" when h.e left office in 1965. "I love the academic world," he said, and added that educational advances were his major achievements as governor. And John s. Allen, his vision o f a great university battered and tarnished but not destroyed, applied his Quaker self-discipline to the task of repairing the image. He avoided at all costs the showdowns, the confrontations that evoked emotion and reaction and that were sudden and irrevocable; it was his nature to rise above these fights, to detach himself from the unpleasant

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in-fighting, and to use stubborn patience and perseverjhce as his weapons of He did not confront and conquer his enemies, he simply out-waited them, though he 189 retained the presidency of the University through such tactics, he lost the support and the respect of much of his who interpreted his silence as timidity. President Allen was not the man to lead a cause; he was not a fighter, and he had no taste for martyrdom. So he suffered criticism and abuse from without and within, and the University---the political child he fostered---drifted in heavy seas into another year. But if Dr. Allen would not rally his University for an all-or-nothing public showdown, he nonetheless recognized clearly quietl and anonymousli/ his enemy, an he ent aXi the weight of his office to every offer of help. A member of his staff had worked closely with the small nucleus of ministers who formed the Tampa citizens' organization to support the University, and Allen was fully aware of the involvement of University personnel in the subsequent efforts of that group. Through lower level negotiations in the university system the president also explored the possibility of joint institutional resistance to the Johns Committee through alumni and foundation groups, and when these negotiations bore no fruit he tacitly approved a marshaling of forces to accomplish the same thing. The American Association of University Women, with twenty-nine branches in Florida, appointed a special committee to study the operations of the Johns Committee, and an emissary of President Allen's immediately began work with that group, supplying mimeographed copies or the Daytona Beach paper's series 9n the committee and a 200-page scrapbook of clippings on its activities. Other organizations, including the League of

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190 Women Voters, the Anti-Defamation League of Bnai B'rith, the Junior Chamber of Commerce and the American Association of University Professors chapters in public and private institutions throughout the state, were supplied with background information on the committee and other information soliciting their support of a movement to abolish the investigative unit at the approaching session of the Legislature. During the first three months of 1963 these efforts by University of South Florida personnel to organize grass-roots resistance to the Johns Committee were intensive and extensive, and they were undertaken with the knowledge and approval of Dr. Allen. Legal opinions were sought on the advisability and practicality of taxpayer suits against the committee, and copies of the law pertaining to the committee were reproduced and distributed in large quantities. Legislators were sounded out on their about continuance of the investigative body, and a University of Florida law professor initiated a study of legislative investigating committees in other states, particularly with regard to higher education. And finally, a sixteen-page report on academic freedom the American Alumni Council was procured by the University of South Florida, and more than a thousand copies of the report were distributed across the state. The alumni associations of the University of Florida and Florida State University also made extensive use o the document.[ While these activities were going on behind the scenes, a period of relative quiet prevailed on the surface, and few incidents marred the welcome lull. Stockton Smith Jr. left the University to join the Marines, Dr. Grebstein announced his resignation to take effect in June, and Board of Control member Charles Forman refused

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191 to join his six colleagues in voting tenure to twelve professors re. at the University, but these drew none of the wide attention that had accompanied the incidents of the past. The Grebstein resignation came after President Allen and the professor's superiors had offered him a raise and a promotion to stay on, and Dean Sidney J. French said publicly the resignation was accepted "with regret." Grebstein himself acknowledged the attractiveness of the University's offer, but said his appointment at Har.pur College in New York would afford him not only a salary raise and a promotion but a lighter teaching load and more time for research as well. His loss was a heavy one for the University, and was illustrative of the harm the Johns Committee encounter had inflicted.

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Another faculty member whose resignation coincided in time with Grebstein's was Dr. A. Hood Roberts, an assistant professor of English and specialist in linguistics. He had been one of the administration's severest and most outspoken critics during the Grebstein controversy, and was recognized as a leader of the group of dissident faculty members in English and related disciplines who threatened revolt when Grebstein was suspended, and again when he was censured. Roberts had had little to say when the Davis and Fleming and Caldwell matters, but the suspension of his colleague in English made him a serious convert to the cause of academic freedom. It is likely that an overwhelming majority of the faculty shared Dr. Roberts' dissatisfaction with the censure of Dr. Grebstein, but few of them accepted his extreme proposals for rectifying the censure. Furthermore, Roberts grew steadily more embittered with the University and its administration as time passed, and complaints were often petty in the extreme. He criticized the all-University approach, the general education program and the lack of faculty meetings---as did many members of the faculty---but the validity of these objections was often negated by his carping tirades against coffee lounges that were open to all University employees,-against identical parking stickers for both faculty and staff members, an", r against the absence of special parking spaces for faculty. He wanted, in short, system, in which the teaching faculty member was superior in every respect and in which there was no connection or relationship between faculty and other employees except the minimum essential to the operation of the institution.

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our related to the University's continuing concern with the Johns Committee took place 1n the final weeks before the Legislature convened, and each of these was highly significant in the total context of the "war" that was being fought. The developments involved a new "censorship" policy of the Board of Control, an AAUP investigation of the University, the Johns Committee's entrapment of a newspaperman, and a much-publicized report on Florida's future in higher education. Each of these needs to be considered in some detail here. On January 14, four days before a Board of Control meeting in Tallahassee, Secretary of State Tom Adams was thumbing through a copy of the Board's agenda which had routinely come across his desk. He saw there a two-page statement called "Proposed Policy on Dissemination of Information," and after reading it he walked into a meeting of the St.ate Cabinet and asked his fellow .m.fx:XkKX in effect, "What's this all about?"

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'' 191 a Roberts' protests at first rallied a great many faculty members to his side, but as he drifted from the legitimate points of disagreement to more petty irrelevancies he became not a spokesman for the faculty opposition but a reactionary q uibbler whose .N,. utterances were not only extreme but as well. When the student newspaper interviewed Grebstein and Roberts on their reasons for leaving the University and printed the two stories side by side, the contrast between Grebstein's mature and rational statements of frankness and the rambling tirades of Roberts was starkly revealing. T hat the words of Roberts in the end bore an ironic resemblance to those of the University's severest outside critics was an indication that the months-long ordeal was no simple black-and-white matter but a complicated \lladJ' and irregular cleavage a maze of contradictory alliances and divisions.

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192 Governor Bryant and other members of the Cabinet took a look at the proposed policy, as did the press representatives present, there was general agreement among all concerned that i t a ppeared to be a move toward Board-imposed censorship of utterances emanating from/ the universities under it. Bryant called for a clarification of the matter, and the papers the next day spoke of "Board censorship," "gag rule," and "chancellor-type domination" of the universities. The Board of Control thus found itself in another controversy, this one created by a statement which had been written by someone o n its s taff and which had not even been acted upon by the Board itself. The disputed statement said in part: "Each member of the Board of Control and the personnel under its jurisdiction shall consider carefully and exert extreme caution in disseminating information, making statements or expressing opinions pertaining to a decision or established policy of the Board of Control or the institution." 'Following that was an equivocating sentence saying the Board and the personnel under it should, on the other hand, "be alert to .opportunities to disseminate information which would contribute to public understanding" and enhance the "respect and influence" of university system, and this 'Paragraphs/ was followed by these "The chairman of the Board of Control shall authorize the dissemination of information and the establishment of liaison with governmental agencies, organizations, or other groups not a part of the university system action by the Board. "The executive director shall be the official liaison officer with the State Board of Education and all agencies of the state government. Under policies of the Board of Control he shall work

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193 in close coordination with these bodies on matters pertaining to the university system. "All personnel under the jurisdiction of the Board of Control shall not contact directly or indirectly the said agencies on matters affecting programs or projects of the university system without expressed consent of the chairman or executive director of the Board of Control." The Board of Control never gave formal consideration to In the four days between their first public the Cabinet meeting and them scheduled meeting of the Board, so much furor was raised over the intent of the proposals that the Board's executive director, Dr. J. Broward Culpepper, removed them from consideration. Culpepper denied that he sought a chancellorship for himself or that he had intended, through the proposed policy, to censor the public statements of the university presidents and their .staffs. He said it was all "a misunderstanding," and added, "We have been gifted in that regard lately." The true intention, he said, had been simply to reaffirm "established procedures in transacting official business" between the univertrity system and the agencies of government. Board chairman Baya Harrison said the Board had not passed on the proposal, "or even considered it," and he added that he was against censorship. "If it involves censorship, no member of the Board or I would approve such a thing," he said. University of Florida President. J. Wayne Reitz quickly sided with Harrison and said he was pleased that the chairman "has stated that the Board would not support the policy proposal of the Board staff."

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194 When the Board finaily met, Culpepper said the proposal had been removed from the agenda. "Our experiences in the last several days, he observed, "have led us to conclude that this subject is too sensitive an area and too close to our American inherent rights of freedom of speech torisk further misunderstanding The purpose of the proposal had been "the of lines of communication within the university system," he said. Harrison responded by saying he did not believe the Board should approve anything which could be construed "as censorship or infringement on the rights of any individual to make public his views without clearance by the Board of Control. The matter was then laid to rest. Dr Culpepper and the staff of the Board had been accused of preparing the way for his appointment as chancellor of the system; of limiting the contacts between the universities and the various agencies of state government; of setting up a clearing house in the Board office for prior approval of all university news releases; and of curbing all public expressions by members of the university communities. These accusations )6erhaps unjustly harsh. It is certainly conceivable that the proposals might have been well-intentioned but carelessly-worded versions of existing procedures which were being re-written for an updated Board policy manual. But it was no secret that Culpepper had long wanted to be made chancellor in name, as he virtually was in fact, and i t is ,likely that the academic freedom disputes of the past had made him wish and for some semblance of control over the public utterances the lobbying efforts of the presidents and professors in the system. The Board, though, having just negotiated a truce over the issue of internal freedom of expression on the campuses, showed no

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19.5 inclination to negate that by limiting suchexpression beyond those campus boundaries. A few days later, Grebstein's resignation was announced, and stories began to circulate that a great many other professors at the University were looking for positions elsewhere. Eight members of the faculty appeared before the Plant City Conservative Club to rebut the charges of Jane and Stockton Smith and warned that only those who could not find jobs elsewhere would remain at the University "unless academic freedom is permitted." Then, in March, the next development to confirm the presence of festering discontent placed the University once more in the news. When Dr. D. F. Fleming had been denied appointment to the University faculty, both the campus AAUP chapter and Dr. Fleming himself had requested an investigation of the matter hy the national office of AAUP. On March 21, a two-man committee came to the University to conduct the inquiry. The two men, Dr. William Heywood of Cornell College in Iowa and Dr. Robert Wallace of the University of spent two days gathering information on the Fleming affair and the related incidents that preceded and followed it. Their presence distinction so early in its history was disturbing to contemplate. Indications were that the report of the two AAUP representatives would be submitted to the organization's committee on academic freedom and tenure, and if that committee JQilJIJ!Wxwri authorized its publication the report would national journal. Following its appearance there, the national convention of the group would vote on censure of the University,

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196 and if censure were imposed, the University would be listed with other institutions which, "as evidenced a past violation, are not observing the generally recognized principles of academic .freedom and tenure endorsed by this Association" and a long list o.f other professional organizations in the .field of The censure list, which prominently displayed in each quarterly issue of the AAUP national journal, carried with it the explanation that publication was ".for the primary purpose of informing Association members (total:62,000), the profession at large, and the public that unsatisfactory conditions of academic freedom and tenure have been .found to prevail at these institutions." The damage inflicted upon the reputation of a university by censure from the AAUP would be difficult to measure, but there was no doubt that such public criticism affect the University of South Florida in its annual search for new faculty. When the two AAUP representatives left the campus, they left mi%k the .faculty and administration there with the sobering realization that censure was likely to come, and the slow process of recommendation and deliberation and majority vote that would bring it about would give the University a year or more to contemplate what effect it would have. The third noteworthy deyelopment of the sprin g of 1963 I was the publication o.f something called the Florida Space Era Education Study. Floridasrapid growth, its development as a center for the Federal government' s space program and its conversion .from an agricultural to an industrial state had led xtmwitmm several pub lic and private agencies m to see k

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197 new ways to stimulate this growth. These agencies---the state Chamber of Commerce, the Florida Council of 100, the Florida Development Commission and others---came to realization that industrialization is inseparably bound to high quality educational programs, and they began to press for expansion and improvement of the state university system. Governor Bryant eagerly joined in this movement, and in fact originated and led much of it, for it was he who found the private funds to finance the Board of Control's comprehensive Space Era Education Study That the basic motivation of Governor Bryant and the others who initiated it was economic rather than educational in nature was a point that became obscured. Beginning in November of 1962, the Board put a number of widely-recog?ized outside consultants and a team of faculty members of the universities to work on the study, and four months later they presented the Board, the Governor and the people of Florida with the most penetrating compilation of appraisals and recommendations since the famous Brumbaugh Report of 1955. The study was intended to deal primarily with the sciences, and it did indeed give special attention to the findings of specially-formed task forces in engineering, science information storage and retrieval, oceanography, and space sciences and research. But Dr. Ralph W. McDonald, the outspoken former president of Bowling University who headed the overall study and wrote the final summary, probed much deeper to find the basic weaknesses of the system itself. In what was to become known as the McDonald Report, the chief consultant wrote these disturbing facts:

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' 198 *The percentage of Florida's 20-and 21-year-olds enrolled in the state's colleges and universities was only half the national average. {!For the nation as a whole, 42 out of every 100 college-age persons were in school, while in Florida only 31 of every 100 were enrolled. Even with the low percentage of college-age enrollees, Florida's burgeoning population expansion was making its public university system less and less able to meet the demands upon it. The state's private colleges and universities were unable to take up the slack because they received such niggardly support from private wealth and private qusiness. No other state south of the Potomac and east of the Mississippi spent a smaller percentage of its total personal income on higher education than did Florida. And to correct these shortcomings, Dr. McDonald and his colleagues recommended, among other things: {!An immediate outlay of $26.5 million for upgrading the quality of the professorial staffs, the students and the facilities of the state's existing graduate institutions. An all-out effort to speed up development of the University of South Florida and Florida Atlantic University, so that 1970 and 1975 they could join the older universities in the system in top-level graduate instruction, particularly in the sciences. Establishment of a sixth degree-granting university in the Orlando-Canaveral-Daytona area, and an additional ten or more state colleges in population centers. A bond. program to finance expansion and upgrading, to be

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199 repaid by future taxpayers who would reap the economic benefits of the expanded system. But the most important section of the report dealt with politics. Though the study had been undertaken primarily for economic reasons and though its emphasis was supposedly on science, a fourth of McDonald's summary report concerned what he called "Organizational and Administrative Obstacles." So pertinent were the .insightful observations of this section to the basic weaknesses that made the University of South Florida's ordeal possible that they need reproducing here: "One of the major obstacles---in fact, the chief obstacle---to the achievement of quality and economy in the State universities is the present system of control and administration at the level of State Government. Study consultants, familiar with plans for control and administration of state university systems in other states, have been surpFised to find the, many extraneous obstacles beyond the authority of the Board of Control that reduce efficiency in the operation of the institutions. Most important, however, is the adverse effect of these obstacles upon the strength and quality of instruction and research. "In no other state does-the state's governing board for its higher education system have such weak status in state government, such an uncertain role of leadership, such lack of authority, such fluid membership, such unrealized susceptibility to political personalities and political_ pressures, such subordination to other state administrative agencies, as is found in Florida "Only a fundamental change, from the roots and throughout, will provide Florida with a sound governing structure at the State level for its rapidly growing system of degree-granting institutions of

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200 higher learning The present awkward and inefficient plan has been' made to work after a fashion by personal contacts, compromises, adjustments, and good will in many quarters. The toll u pon-the universities has been great, however "A few illustrations reflect the destructive impact of the present system. The University of Florida is the only land-grant university in the United States with an enrollment above 10,000 that pays its president a salary anywhere near the low figure paid in this state. The given for this amazing fact is that a larger salary would exceed the salary paid to a Cabinet member. There is no relationship whatever, except possibly political, b etween the salary of the President of the University of Florida and the salary of a State Treasurer,of a Secretary of State, of an Attorney General, of a Governor, of the president of the Atlantic Coast Line, of the Presiaent of the States the personal income of Dr. William Menninger, or the pay received I by the treasurer of DuPont. Such a comparison is made in Florida because it seems logical under the present politically oriented system. The small salary of a Florida university president is much more than a matter of money It is deeply, devastatingly, and disasterously harmful to Florida, however, and to its .higher education system. The low salaries of the State University presidents in Florida show plainly what is true: Under the present political plan of University control at the State level, a complex institution of higher learning, the president of which guides, advises, and inspires hundreds of highly trained scientists, artists, and historiams, is just another state agency There is only one set of considerations that should govern the determination of the

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201 salary of a university president: Who is the best qualified man we c a n find for the job? What level of salary is being paid by the better universities to a man of his ability and experience? Do we have that much money in our current budget? Can we expect to continue to peJable to pay a president at that salary level? "The present Florida System is basically and irrevocably political, not The fatal weakness of the present Board structure is that it is not the one official agency of the State Government, vested with the full power, responsibility, and authority of the State, to govern and operate the State's system of degree-granting education institutions without any political interest whatever, subject to no control from any other State official or administrative agency except for strict State audit of University funds and court removal for crimes committed, consisting of members whose terms on the Board extend for at least one year beyond combined terms of two consecutive governors. "Practically every action taken by any faculty member or academic official in a State university in Florida is seriously affected and his work impaired by the chain-reaction impact of the present system of control. A department chairman and his colleagues can spend months or years looking for just the right faculty member for a particular post, the college dean can study the matter and endorse the recommendation to the dean for academic affairs, thence .to the president, thence to the Executive Director of the Board of Control, thence unofficially to the State Budget Director in order that the Executive Director may get some idea as to what the action on 'top-side' might be with respect to the

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202 recommended salary, thence back to the Board of Control, thence w ith a special resolution and detailed credentials from the Board of Control to the State Budget Director, thence to a public meeting of a group of State Officials electe d by popular vote for entirely different duties 'from those of governing a complex university, where the highly technical and professional question (deciding upon a qualified professor or researcher) is settled by a political decision, in the atmosphere of a public performance, to the embarrassment of every scientist, historian, or professional leader in the State's system of higher education---the question of whether a salary maximum of $10,000, set by vote of the Legislature, should be broken through to pay a man who by that time has often accepted a b etter job elsewhere. This imposed routine of political flavor, delay, intrusion of wholly extraneous factors, and d epreciation o f the kind and quality of higher education m Florida students should receive, is present in one form or another in practically every aspect and every item of the State's daily operations in higher education. Florida simply cannot afford to impose such a system of control and administration upon its institutions of higher learning. Under s uch a system man y originally well-qualified teachers and researchers, harassed continually by the impact of such a system, may simply give up "The Florida system is based upon agency control rather than University government. It debilitates instea'd of invigorating the quality of administration and teaching It is foreign to the whole philosophy and nature of intellectual inquiry and learning for w hich a university exists. I t shackles research and t eaching

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203 I :lnstead of freeing these priceless ingredients of progress. It places the upon the form and mechanics of political management, rather than upon the spirit and dignity of effective I leadership in higher education. Continuation of this system would destroy possibility of achieving greatness for Florida in the space era because the essential qualities of strength and effectiveness in its higher education institutions could not be attained. Governor Bryant and the others who had brought Ralph McDonald to Florida to dissect the higher education system had got more than they bargained for. He had told them, in effect, to take the system out of politics---all the way out---or forget about greatness and Unfortunately, the impact of these recommendations was largely obscured by regional self-interest,for the various present and proposed locales of degree-granting institutions were more concerned with what a massive expansion program would mean to them than with what harm was being done to the system by p olitics. In the Tampa area, the McDonald Report's recommendation of an engineering school for the University of South Florida got top billing and relatively little was said about the call for system reqrganizatio? Governor Bryant, with characteristic lack of understanding, gave grudging concession to the Board of Control's need for broader d iscretion in managing its affairs, but said flatly that he was unwilling to give the Board financial control of the funds allocated to the university system. He indicated that longer terms for Board members would meet with his qualified approval, but rejected the idea of making the Board autonomous, saying that would mean removing it from "the control of the voters.

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204 The McDonald Report had recommended that the 1963 Legislature make the of Control autonomous, that the Board in turn vest much more administrative responsibility in the and administrators and faculties of the institutions, that the terms of Board members be lengthened and staggered, and that the staff of the Board be strengthened. It further recommended that a special legislative committee be set up to study and recommend permanent changes in the system along the lines previously mentioned, and that these cnanges be. made a part of the state Constitution. All this was strong medicine for the politicians who had retained control of the university system for so many 1 years. How many, if any, of these recommendations way to the Legislature, let alone become law, was far from certain, but the cool response to McDonald's sweeping recommendations made it appear unlikely that the number or their importance would be significant. The suggestion or Board of Control autonomy through a Constitutional amendment had first been made openly in February when University of Florida President J. Wayne Reitz suggested it to the Legislative Council$ committee on higher education. The Council, which served as a _legislation-drafting body between sessions of Legislature, appeared cool to the idea then, maintaining that the Legislature and the Cabinet were comprised of elected officials and should be finally responsible for overseeing operation of the university system. After the appearance of the McDonald Report, however, the higher education committee surprisingly approved a recommendation to ask the full Legislature to change the Boa r d of Control to a nine-man

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205 Board of Regents with staggered nine-year terms, to make the Regents completely autonomous of political control, and to incorporate this new structure into a Constitutional amendment to be submitted to the state's voters for approval. The recommendation was precisely what the McDonald Report had asked for, and what Governor Bryant had said he was not willing to approve. A week later, the higher education committee's recommendation went before the full Legislative Council, and State Senator John Mathews of Jacksonville it to near-unanimous a pproval. One member of the 6ouncil voting against the reorganization plan was Representative William O'Neill of Ocala, a member of the Johns Committee. But the Council's approval assured the plan of at least a chance of passage, and the most far-reaching and fundamental suggestion ever made for the rescue of Florida's university system from mediocrity was a hopeful possibility. before the opening of the Legislature. Almost a year of continuing struggle between the University of South Florida and the Johns Committee was about to be culminated, for out of the Legislature would have to come a decision which would either continue the committee's existence or abolish it. The University had not been directly and publicly .involved i n coriflict with the c _ommittee since the conclusion of the Grebsteiri matter in December, but the basic conflict had not been resolved, and the events that made news in early 1963---the Board of Control "censorship" squabble, the AAUP probe of Fleming's case, the McDonald Report---all had within them reminders of the University's troubles and overtones of t h e

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206 academic freedom issue that still simmered below the surface. In those final weeks before the lawmakers convened, some of these quies cent sores erupted into print, and their appearance to bring into focus the many facets of the basic conflict that remained. Charley Johns himself contributed one small bit to this focusing process when he admitted that his committee faced a fight for its life in the Legislature. Saying most of the opposition came from university professors and leading newspapers, he said, "I think the people are behind us The committee is doing good work and the job isn't finished yet. Opposition to this view came immediately from Representative Fred Karl Daytona Beach, who said he would vote against the committee unless he received assurance that its conduct would change. "The committee has conducted its affairs in a manner that leaves a lot to be desired," he said. "Some of its activities have had all of the characteristics of witch hunts; the state's academic reputation has been damaged seriously, and many people have been unnecessarily harassed and hurt. Karl's statement was in turn attacked by one of his colleagues in the House of Representatives, George B Stallings, of Jacksonville, who was also a member of the Johns Committee. Stallings said if Karl thought the state's academic reputation had been damag e d by the committee's investigation of the University of South Florida, "then I presume he condones such activity on the part of the University. I don't believe the taxpayers who support this University and the parents of stud&nts attending there condone such activity.

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207 These indications of a dogfight over the committee in the Legislature were fed by a string of other developments: The Tampa branch of the American Association of University Women made public a report and resolution XkB condemning the Johns Committee and calling for its abolition. Mrs Fred Hohnadel, the chapter president, said all of the state's 29 branches President St. Petersburg Kiwanis Club "a university is a community of scholars. It is not a kindergarten. It is not a club. It is not a political p arty. It is not an agency of propaganda. The curious scholar is not interested in ready-made answers to his questions. He wants only the truth, and he will insist on tests to prove the truth. He wiml try to preserve his university as a community of scholars in which any question can be asked." The three Pinellas County teachers whose certificates had been revoked following charges by the Johns Committee were reinstated by the State Board of Education in the aftermath of the State Supreme Court's ruling in favor of the teachers. The Tampa Tribune and the St. Petersburg Times leveled blasts at the Johns Committee and urged the Legislature to abolish it. ilThe U S. Supreme Court overturned the contempt conviction of a Miami official of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored who had refused to give his organization's membership' list to the Johns Committee at a 1959 hearing .;:The Daytona Beach Journal, the Pensacola Journal and the Miami News joined the Tampa and St. Petersburg papers in the demand for sweeping changes or outright abolition of the committee.

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208 Senator Johns stepped up his defense efforts to save tte committee, saying college students were being brainwashed with "communist and socialist ideas" by "atheistic" professors. "It' s not just at the University of South Florida, he added. "This is going on throughout the university system. It's just terrible, and the people of Florida had better wake up or Khrushchev will take over without firing a shot.11 Other branches of the AAUW added their voices to the Tampa branch with resolutions demanding revision o r repeal of the I committee's enabling statute, and the organization later would endorse these separate efforts by adopting a resolution engineered by Mrs. William c Sco t t of St. Petersburg, herself a former All of these things together would have been more than enough to i n sure an all-out struggle over the committee in the XC!. houses of the Legislature. But the most spectacular ce of the spring---the fourth major development mentioned earlier---The Sentinel was one of the few major papers in the state to support the Johns Committee in its investigation of the University of South Florida, but correspondent Delaney did not share his paper's admiration, and he had on occasion taken Johns and his investigators to task. In a speech at .Florida Sttlte University the December, Delaney had said the committee had become so powerful that 11ordinary people no longer dare raise their voices in protest for fear of being labeled a homosexual, Communist or NAACP member.11

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209 Two months later, in early February, Delaney was introduced to a woman named Jan Lee in a Tallahassee b hwling alley. The introduction was made by one Evelyn Leverette, who Delaney later learned was a paid investigator for the Johns Committee. Delaney, married and a father, was a 45-year-old man who had conquered alcoholism and had been appointed by Govarnor LeRoy Collins to the state's alcoholic rehabilitation board. According to him, he was called by Jan Lee a few days after their meeting and asked to come by her motel to counsel with her concerning alcoholism problems of her own. The date was Saturday, February 9. Delaney said he went to Jan Lee's room at the Lakeshore Motel and talked with her "for about half an hour." She was drinking, he s .aid, and appeared nervous. "I had to go to work," Delaney said, "but she asked me to come back later. I did, at about 8:30 p.m." He said he then drove her around town for about two hours, listening to her talk about her problems, and finally took her back to the motel. She pleaded with him to stay, Delaney said, but he left, and then, about midnight, he returned. In these words, Delaney later told Raine Colbert of the Mami News I&xxzkad what happened then: "The rest of it was my fault. When she opened the door she was wearing a robe that was open to the waist, and she obviously didn't want to talk about liquor. I went in, and she turned out the lights. I was sitting on the edge of the bed when everything happened at once. .Jan called out something. I couldn't make out what she said. At the same time, she shoved my head down. A flashbulb went off, and Sergeant Peacock was yelling, 'You ---, I caught you!'" /

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210 "Sergeant Peacock" was Tallahassee police sergeant Burrell Peacock. He and another policeman had been quietly waiting in an adjoining room, and at Jan Lee's signal they had photographed and trapped Delane y in bed with her. Both of them were arrested on a morals charge. Shortly after their arrival at the police station, R. J. Strickland, the Johns Comrhittee's chief investigator, strode in smiling to congratulate Peacock. Delaney was released on bond. The woman, Jan Lee, disappeared. The police later said she forfeited her $500 bond when she failed to appear in city court, but not record showing she ever paid the bond could be found. Then the intricate details of the entrapment slowly came to light. Peacock, in an unguarded moment, admitted that the setup had been "a 50-50 operation between the police department and Strickland." The police had rented the two motel rooms, and Strickland had put Jan Lee (her real name was not known) in one of them as bait. "But the trap wasn't set for Delaney," Peacock insisted. "We were after someone else, and we didn't even think of Delaney until he walked up. We were after a lesbian." Delaney's story was different. After he was arrested, he said, Peacock told him, "It took us a long time to get you, but we did it." Delaney said he had been tipped a year earlier that a n attempt to him was being p lanned, and he had told his boss at the newpaper in Then, he said, during the three months prior to his arrest, "I kept having the feeling that someone was following me." Sergeant Peacock later confirmed that

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211 suspicion for h i m afte r the arrest. "He told me I had been followed," Delaney said. Delaney's case i n cour t was postponed indefinitely. Though the incident happened in the early morning hours of February 1 0 it was more than six weeks before a full account of it appeared in any newspaper in the state. The Miami News finally told the whole story, and reporter Colbert's three-part series went further to point out some other inyeresting facts. Colbert said Strickland had been fired in 1953 from his deputy sheriff's post in Leon County, and later that same year had lasted less than a month as an investigator for t h e state beverage department before being fired again. Each time it had been announced that he had resigned, but Bob Delaney had dug out the fact s and reported the two dismissals, and Strickland had been his avowed enemy since then. The Miami News series appeared only a few days before the Legislature convened, and the echoing shock waves reverberated up and down the halls of the Cap itol. Creating as much of a stir was a series of six editorials by editor Emmett Peter Jr. in the Leesburg Daily Commercial. Peter had first mentioned the Delaney inc.ident on February 28, but had not named Delaney in the article, and other papers gingerly alluded to the entrapment episode in rather oblique fashion. By late March, however, neither the Miami News nor Emmett Peter to remain vague. Peter's series was a sharply worded and comprehensive review of the Johns Committee's seven-year history, much in the same fashion as Mabel Norris Chesley's Daytona Beach articles. The committee, he wrote, "in its $267,000 safari

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212 for sinners, has yet to bag its first Communist or homosexual."' On the contrary, he said, it had overspent its budget by more than one-third, seriously disrupted the academic program and morale of the University of South Florida, driven highly-regarded educators from the state, exceeded its authority by delving into the religious beliefs of University personnel, been rebuked by the State Supreme Court for tricking suspects, had its contempt citation of an NAACP official overturned by the u. s. Supreme Court, and set a trap to frame a critic of the committee. Peter said "ftemus James Strickland, a tough ex-policeman, qualifies easily as Florida's most feared man." Succeeding Legislatures had given the committee retroactive powers to support Strickland's sweeping probes, he said, including "the precise subpoena power which its chief cop had untruthfully claimed when he extracted the discredited 'confessions'" of the three Pinellas county teachers. With his almost unlimited funds, including unrestricted money to pay unnamed informants, Strickland had, with the powerful support of Senator Johns, earned the title of most feared man. Editor Peter gave examples. of state employees who had been fired after Strickland branded them as homosexuals. No proof--only Strickland's word---was required. Peter also reviewed the Caldwell and Grebstein cases, and concluded with an account of Delaney's encounter with Strickland. Janice Lea (sometimes Lee) had signed the motel register and the police blotter with different addresses, he said, and both of them were fake. She had failed to show up for trial, and nobody seemed to know for sure if she had posted bond, or what her real name was, or where she had gone.

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213 "This is the committee that is asking the people of Florida for two more years of investigative 'hunting license!,'' Peter said. "Will it get that license? Quite possibly. Senator Johns has a record of getting what he asks. A former acting governor (1953-54), Johns is a political power---a leader of the 'Pork Chop Gang'. That is the popular name for the rural-righteous cabal that has dominated Florida's legislatures, under some name or another, since the Carpetbaggers were sent packing in 1876. A recent court-enforced reapportionment, which brings a fiew more presumably enlightened voices and votes to Tallahassee, offers the only hope for those who see the Committee as more damaging than helpful By_ watching the Johns Committee votes when matter comes up, the people of Florida will have an opportunity to see how enlightened the new voices in Tallahassee really are." A year later, Emmett Peter's six editorials would win for him a national award of merit from the National Conference of \ Christians and Jews. The drama that would unfold in both houses of the Legislature during debate over the committee's past and its supercharged with the emotional events of the preceding year. There would be debate and disagre ement over such things as whether or not the committee's probe in Tampa haq been politically inspired, whether or not the committee had conducted itself properly, whether IXXEEX Wenner and Fleming and Caldwell and Grebstein and others were victors or victims, whether or not the University of South Florida had suffered, and so on down a lengthy list. But the overriding preoccupation of the legislators as they convened on April 2 was the entrapment of Robert w. Delaney,

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g 214 for whether or not he was the the fact remained that an outspoken critic of the committee had been caught in a snare that was certain to weaken his vo ice of protest. Was deliberate entrapment itself a crime? Was conspiring to commit a crime and enticing others to commit the same crime a punishable offense itself? The answers to these were not clear. What was starkly transparent, though, was this: A reputable newspaperman, married and a father and a law-abiding citizen, had succumbed to civilization's oldest lure---seduction. His moment of weakness had been exploited by men who, with calculated perfection, had set the trap. His relations 1 family his personal life and his reputation had been irreparably harmed and smeared by those who had gambled on the imperfection of human nature, and won And all over Tallahassee, all over Florida, people who had criticized or in any way resisted the Johns Committee looked with fear and anger at the damage that had been inflicted, and wondered to themselves, "Could I be next?" As the legislators gathered for their session and Senator Johns' forces put the finishing touches on their strategy for perpetuation of the committee, the demoralized and disseni(ion-torn faculty of University of South Florida waded into yet another conflict, this one internal. It all started when President Allen would not approve promotion and tenure for Dr Sy M Kahh an assistant professor of English, even though such approval had been recommended by Kahn's chairman and dean. Kahn had been questioned by the Johns Committee and his testimony had been

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215 quoted at length. in t heir report, but the President's dissatisfaction with him stemmed from other matters. The ..._ leader of the "anti-Allen" forces d uri.i1g the Grebstein case, he was the recognized leader but very noticeable "beatnik" element in the student body, and his off-campus behavior to have included :!1 u &lrM' & 3 Aw li rumors among the \. 1 ::aB.:tx.ltxEJUixli.JUGQli:llxb students and 8 e;athe a University. These items may or may not have been as serious, or even as true, as President Allen viewed them. But there was clearly little love, less respect and n o communication at all between the President and Dr Kahn and when the question of tenure and promotion came up Dr Allen said no Four chairmen and deans in the chain of command between the two men urged the presiaent to give in, arguing that he had no concrete reasons for refusing. They said Kahn was an teacher, well-liked by his students, and a productive scholar, and they pointed out that the promotion and tenure would serve as an assurance to the faculty that individual differences of opinion and philosophy between the administration and themselves their would not jeopardize c ances for advancement. The presi.dent listened, but he was adamant. Though his reasons were vague, the end result was not: Kahn's name came off the list. The reaction in the Language-Literature Division, home base of Kahn and the English faculty, was predictable. After Allen' s decision became known the division faculty held a meeting open to all faculty, and about 60 (30 per cent of the total) attended. A resolution calling for censure of the president was presented for discussion but calmer judgment prevailed and the resolution

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216 was tabled. A group of five E nglish faculty members pushed hard for the censure, and successful in having a report of the meeting and a copy of the resolution sent to the president with a request that he meet with the faculty and clarify the policies which led to his decision on Nahn. Most of those present, however, seemed as disillusioned by the behavior of Kahn's vocal supporters as by the behavior of the president. "These guys think there is absolutely no connection between their private behavior and their performance as teachers," said one faculty member, and another added, "They see themselves as enlightened saviours from the North, come to a foreign country to dispel ignorance." Kahn's suppmrters overplayed their hand. Their attitude of revolt was, for the most part, rebuked by superior numbers who, with rational and deliberate concern, sought constructive to a problem that was obviously bigger than the Kahn episode alone. But the disconcerting fact remained that President Allen's attitude and posture toward the faculty still left much to be desired. Whatever the merits of the Kahn case, the president had been extremely vague; he had taken his unexplained action, furt_hermore, in opposition to all of his advisers in the normal chain of command; and---perhaps worst of all --he continued in his refusal to meet with the assembled faculty. The issue, above and beyond Dr. Kahn's case, was the president's rela.tionship with his fa.cullty. Two concerned members of that body who watched in helpless dismay as the

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217 relationship became more and more strained gave these assessments of the state of affairs: "Too often, said the first, "judgment of a man's quality at the University of South Florida has been basetl on how well he gets along, 1 or whether he is 1a member of the team,' instead of how much basic ability he has or how much of a contribution he is making to the students. A lesser man who conforms seems to be more value& than an exceptional one who sometimes chafes at the bit. The president has a narrow view of what is 'in the best interests of the University,' and when someone violates it he is relentlessly unforgiving. It's hard for him to see any mistakes except those of the other man And the other professor said, "I have no sympathy with the behavior of the fellows who say they speak for Kahn but I can' t minimize the importance of their basic complaint. Dr. Allen must realize the seriousness and extent of faculty disenchantment. He is so closely identified with the University and has been for so lo_ng---since the beginning-that he naturally wants it to continue to develop according to his image. But other. people also want to put something of themselves into it, and he should realize this is both inevitable and desirable. All of us don't object to his decision in this case, but most of us do object to his vagueness. If he is going to reject the advice of his officers, he should. tell them specifically why I think he's honest and sincere---r even think he may refuse to be specific because he doesn't want to hurt or embarrass Kahn ---but that would be better than letting this thing erupt into another public hassle. 11 \ ,.

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For his. part, the president was unmoving. He relt that Kahn's superiors knew and understood why to honor their recommendations, and he that they, not he, should explain the decision to Kahn and the raculty. As president, he clearly had rinal responsibility ror the decision, and he wanted, almost desperately, ror his lieutenants to see his reasoning, sympathize with it and support his stand. But he 218 did not seem able to explain that to them, and as a result his e strangement rrom the raculty and some or his administration as well became president's lonely isolation, partly rorced on him and partly selr-imposed, was a drain on his health and his spirits, but he would not---or could not---let his hair down and level with the men whose support and cooperation he needed so vitally. "They want rousing speeches, he said one day, in a rerlective moment "I won't give them that. His nature demanded calm, digniried, impersonal and persistent aloorness to the sound and rury or controversy, but the climate on his campus begged ror something else, and he seemed unable to recognize what it was, or how he could provide it. Elsewhere, the Johns Committee and its supporters were hard at work. Senator Johns, with the help or the Plant City Conservative Club and several other ultra-right wing groups, was making wide distribution or his committee's report on the University, along with copies or the Podhoretz essay used by Grebstein and a laudatory commentary on the committee report by E. Merrill Root, a spokesman ror the right wing and author or ''Collectivism on the Campus In the Legislature, committee

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219 supporters applied pressure on their anti-Johns colleagues, threatening to vote against legislation proposed by opponents of the committee. Then, on April 12, Johns made his move. He announced that of both houses had been called for April 18 to hear the committee "report orally on its activities for the last biennium." Johns issued a letter to the state's media.of communications inviting them to the session, but said entrance to the Senate chamber would be by invitation only and the letter of invitation would have to be presented at the door. In addition to the members of the Legislature and the press, the dramatic session was attended by Governor Bryant, members of the Cabinet, lobbyists and other supporters of the committee and a few other persons. Senator Johns took the floor first to make some introductory remarks, and then he called on Mark Hawes, the corrunittee counsel. Hawes, his ruddy face stern and sometimes scowling, held forth for an hour and a half. He used every dramatic trick at his command to deliver a scathing denunciation of the University of South Florida in general and John ,Allen in parti4ular, and his audience was mute with mixed shock, fascination and amazement. In essance, Hawes' rambling report was a rehash of the printed version eight months earlier The familiar of softness on Communism, anti-religious teaching, use and lax moral standards were repeated at length, and Hawes read a few passages out of context from books used at the University. But there were some

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220 new angles added to the indictment. Hawes said at the outset that the committee complaints or sortness on Communism and homosexuality at the University, in accordance with legislative authority, religious teachings or literature. "In regard to these last two categories, we were doing nothing more than receiving complaints, he said. Then, he went on, while "we were engaged there quietly, interviewing who wanted to come voluntarily to complain about these conditions, President Allen "got on the television and the radio and invited us to look at anything about which we had received complaints In other Hawes explained, the committee had been investigating Communism and homosexuality under authority or the enabling statute when Allen invited them in to probe the content or textbooks and the religious beliefs of t he faculty, while they were at it. It almost sounded as ir he was saying Dr. Allen was the one who wanted the investigation conducted. Hawes did imply that the Board or Control approved of the probe, saying the Board "knew for. some considerable days berore Dr. Allen publicly invited us" that the investigation was underway. On the Jerome Davis incident, Hawes said the University issued a press release, that "falsely, I say ralsely, announced that Dr. JeromeDavis was a professor or divinity at Duke University. (The news release identified Davis as a "former professor o f liivinity at Yale University, which he was. ) In rererring to Dr D. F Fleming, Hawes concentrated his attack on Fleming' s two-volume work on the Cold War, making no mention of the mistaken identity that had led the co1mnittee to believe he was active in Communist -front organizations. Hawes

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221 quoted from several reviews critical of the books and also mentioned Vanderbilt Chancellor Harvie Branscomb' s statement that Fleming had "gone sour11 over the years, but he leaned most heavily on the testimony of Kendrick c Hardcastle III -of Tampa Hardcastle, said Hawes, "happened to be a former student of this Dr. Fleming at Vanderbilt University for two years, and he 11swears under oath" that Flemin g wrote in h i s books and taught in his classes that the United States and its allies were to blame for Cold War tensions, that the United States had wronged the Soviet Union, that the United States started World Wars I and I I and that Soviet expansion was justified as a defense against the warlike nature of the United States. Furthermore, said Hawes Hardcastle said one of Fleming's fellow political scientists at Vanderbilt had described the professor "as t h e greatest apologist for the Soviet Union outside the Soviet Union. Kendrick C Hardcastle III had indeed been a student at Vanderbilt University, where he earned a degree in engineering. But Dr Fleming's class rolls d uring the years when Hardcastle was there did not include the engineering student's name and the official records of the Registrar's Office at Vanderbilt showed that Hardcastle took no political science classes at all quring his entire stay on that campus Yet Hardcastle not only told the Johns Committee he took classe s under Fleming but also gave damaging testimony about the professor's alleged political views and even "remembered" hearing a colleague of Fleming d escribe his as the foremost apologist for the Soviet Union.

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' 222 Moving to a nother subject, Hawes said that both professors and textbooks at the University the validity of the orthodox religious views of the students that came to that campus," and taught that there was no absolute standard of right and wrong. Then he read a passage from t .he Podhoretz essay to the hu-shed audience, and left the impression that the essay was not an attack on such writing but rather an approval of it. Hawes then related how Thomas Wenner had told Lowell Brandle of the St. Petersburg Times about the investigation, and said he begged Brandle not to "print that article and do and those professors any such injustice." the story anyway, he said, and added, "it is a disgustingly dishonest fact that the St. Petersburg Times is among the most vocal critics of this committee today." The Times claimed the committee's irresponsible actions had done t a--eLL .. { tl...a.tunnecessary damage to the school, he said, Times, by printing Wenner's charges, had done the University more harm. Throughout, Hawes leveled his harshest criticism on President Allen and the administration, saying they had not set "a proper moral tone for the University," had not enforced proper moral standards and had not weeded out undesirable professors. And, he added, to show their complete disregard and rejection of the committee's report, Allen and others at the University had printed the university of South Florida Educational Review in the fall after the committee's departure, and "this booklet, in my judgment, constitutes that University's declaration of

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defiance to y o u members of the Legislature and to taxpaying people of this state in regar d to whether or not you have 22 3 any right to control what type of institution you are supporting down there with your money The first article in the booklet was written by Dean J A Battle of the University' s College of Education. In it, said Hawes, was a statement that "The use of the university is to make young gentlemen .as unlike their fathers as possible"--a quotation from Woodrow Wilson---and the theme of the article and the entire book, according to Hawes was that the University "must not permit any outside interference at all in the manner which see fit to search for the truth. To show that "the selection of filth in these (teaching) materials was deliberate," Hawes quoted from an article in the booklet by Dr Edgar W. Hirshberg, a member of the English faculty: nTo know the complete truth, the student must be exposed to evil as well as good, to wrong as well as right. And as for Dr Allen himself, Hawes said he wrote in the booklet that as long as a professor made it clear that he was an atheist, "it's proper as long as he doesn't try to force that upon the students. The word "atheist" did not appear at all in Allen's article. Then, at the conclusion of his long tirade, Hawes took up the matter of Robert Delaney's entrapment. While Delaney sat expressionless in the press gallery, Hawes said the charge that committee had deliberately trapped a critic in order to silence him was not true. He said R J Strickland had been working with the Tallahassee police "on some homosexual investigations at Florida State University, and during the

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224 course of those investigations had got sidetracked onto another probe, this one of lesbianism. Hawes said the Tallahassee police made use of a woman undercover agent Strickland's staff to set a trap for another woman they suspected of lesbianism. The police rented the two motel rooms, he said, but Strickland later called the motel operator and had the room occupied by the undercover agent listed under the name of Jan Lee "the name that the woman was going under, so that she could receive calls from this other woman." Then, in these words, Hawes described to his audience what happened next: "That very same night, the eighth---this girl came by there and took this Jan Lee out, gonna take her to eat and have a few drinks and they wound up right out here at this same bowling alley, where they met the newsman involved and the other girl' s husband who was supposed to have been working that night but who didn't work that night and because of the fact that he wasn't working that night this girl could never get Jan Lee alone that particular night and she and her husband, Jan Lee and this particular newsman went out together that night and had a few drinks and the newsman brought that girl back to the .motel that night That newsman didn't do a thing that night except put that girl out at that room and tell her that he had enjoyed the evening and turned around and left. They (the police) stayed there the next day thinking that this girl would come back. She never came back, but instead, the newsman showed up again that night, on toward the evening, and took

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225 this girl out to dinner or someplace, a ride and he finally brought her back about 11:00 or 11:30 or so that night, told her that he had to go home for a personal matter and that he would be back later and he came back. And shortly after he came back, he got involved in this act which clearly is a crime against nature and these officers took some pictures of him and arrested him. Having gone too far to turn back with this remarkable statement, Hawes plunged on further: "Both of these men tell me under oath that R. J. Strickland never asked them to catch this man never intimated that he had any feeling against him. Both these officers tell me under oath that they didn't know this man was a critic of this committee and I'll be frank with you, I didn't know. I don't pay any attention to the press. That's a fact. I didn't know that he'd been critical of the committee Now Mr. Strickland was there. He'd gone over that night and carried those boys some food in that room. They had been on surveillance there all that day and all that night. He was there. He tells me that he did not see what went on in that room---he c 'ould not say what this man did. And he went to the police station later. Now the fact is that he had that connection with this incident, and personally I think that it is regrettable, but it does .not the entrapment of that man because he is a critic of this committee. I know that every member of this committee was ignorant of that thing when it happened and I know that I didn't know anything about it and I know no man on this committee would condone the entrapment of a critic of this committee and I know further that I have long ago, long before this incident

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-t1.._ ever arose, personally tructed the entire investigating our enabling act, whatsoever, .of man-woman relationship, regardless of how unnatural it is or strange, but only homosexual conduct." 226 Mark Hawes thus concluded his oral r port to the Legislature on the activities of the Johns Committee Senator Johns, returning to the rostrum, heaped praise on R. J. Strickland ("he's earned every dime this committee's paid him"), and gave this box score of accomplishments by the committee: Had the teaching certificates of 7 1 public school teachers revoked for homosexual activity; Presented evidence to the State Department of Education to support revocation of 63 more teachers' certificates; on 105 other teachers, but not enough evidence to support certificate revocation; Been responsible for the removal of 39 deans and professors from the state's colleges and universities. The senator's figures could not be verified by other state records of the committee were closed. Had agency. For a legislative committee with no police powers, the figures were, to say the least, astonishing. Senator Johns then a close\_the, two-hour sessionj with these words: "My friends, I want to tell you that the work of this committee has got to go on. It's larger than any of us. And I have served on this committee for nearly seven years, ever since its inception. I feel that I have served my time and

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227 when this committee is re-established, or which I have complete conridence in you members or the Legislature that it will be, I'm not going to ask that the president re-appoint me. I want to say that it has been very distasterul to me. It's not my nature to want to hurt anyone and some of the state employees that have been gotten out or the state government have been close rriends or mine." There was no applause when the senator finished talking, and the president or the Senate gaveled adjournment without comment. Governor Bryant, after hearing most of Hawes' remarks, had lert the chamber w.ith a blank expression on his race. Virtually every daily newspaper in the state, including this time even the Orlando Sentinel, blasted the wasterul and damaging or the Johns Committee .in the wake or the report. Every member or Hillsborough County's seven-man Legislative delegation stoutly defended the University, as did many other legislators, and only a handrul publicly praised the report by Joqns Hawes. Emmett Peter Jr., writing in the Leesburg Commercial, said Johns and Hawes were arraid or ideas and without raith in today's students. "Mr. Hawes is comic," said Peter, "when he tries to expel pathetic little Holden Caulrield rrom the campus, and dr.ive Buddy Glass rrom the library shelves. Is he unawarQ that there is rar more or the erotic in Shakespeare's plays than in an entire shelr or Salinger? Has he not read the King James Old Testament recently enough to recall the hundreds or salacious passages?. Would he ban Rabelais and Bocaccio and Mark Twain and Benjamin Franklin? Would he throw out Thomas Je:fferson because he was an agnostic?"

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In the five days that followed the joint session in the chamber of the Senate, endless maneuvering by the proand anti-Johns forces took place. Members of the Johns Committee were confident could push through the necessary law re-creating their investigative body. Johns himself introduced the bill in the Senate, and asked an appropriation of $155,000 for the biennium. The senator also introduced a committee-sponsored bill that would have placed detailed restrictions on the hiring of personnel election of by the universities and the mater1als used for instruction. The committee had deliberately planned its report to the 228 Legislature as an oral presentation for several reasons. First, it was thought that Hawes could convince many legislators with his spellbinding delivery alone; second, the would sound more damag!ng than it would read, and the legislators would have no written transcript to refer to; and third, without a printed difficult if not statement, it would be le to pinpoint any specific / misstatements of fact. R. J. Strickland was stationed at the base of the rostrum with a tape recorder to preserve the message for the committee, but no oneelse would have a verbatim transcript of the proceedings. Or so they thought. But shortly before Johns began the report, a perennial legislative gadfly and political hanger-on named Ovid Lewis strode into the chamber with a small tape recorder and set it up before the rostrum. He was seen by Strickland and Hawes, b .ut neither of them dared to approach him before the nearly-full chamber and axk tell him to put the machine away. Lewis recorded the entire performance. In the hallway

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229 afterward, Ray c. Knopke, one of Hillsborough County's House members, approached Lewis and asked what he planned to do with the tape. When Lewis said he had no specific use in mind, out of Knopke offered to buy it, and for $18 dollaPs he purchased from Lewis what was later to become a virtually priceless spool of tape. That night, a Capitol cubbyhole used as an office by Lewis was ransacked by unidentified intruders. But the value of the tape to the University and its supporters was not immediately apparent. Their most pressing 'problem; concerned what move to make next, and the Hillsborough delegation ultimately had to decide that step. On Sunday, April 21, three days after the Johns Committee presentation, the seven Hillsborough legislators gathered at the temporary residence of Senator Tom Whitaker in Tallahassee. Soon after dark they were joined by President Allen and seven of his deans and administrative aides, and for several hours the secret strategy meeting continued. From the beginning there was general agreement on one point: some response had to be made to Hawes' charges. They talked at length about how the response should be made, who should make it and what it should contain, and finally it was decided that the legislators would arrange another joint session of both houses later in the week, and President Allen would present the rebuttal in a prepared speech. The president was firmly resigned to the decision. He had already written the first draft of such a speech, and one of1 his assistants had written another. Early the next morning, after returning to Tampa from the late-hours meeting, Allen went to work. For the next two days, he and three of his

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pored over notes and press accounts of the Johns Committee's presentation, listened to the tape ew Knopke had purchased, wrote and re-wrote versions of the 230 two draft speeches, and finally produced an eleven-page, 25-minute document. Meanwhile, the legislative delegation had arranged for its presentation xk to both houses at 2 p .m. Wednesday, April 24. -Before be left for Tallahassee to give the address and after his arrival there, Dr. Allen received several letters and telegrams of support, including one telegram signed by 71 Tampans and a letter from Tampa s Episcopal clergymen, both of which were bluntly critical of the Johns Committee and the citizens whose "innuendoes and unsupported accusations" had caused such harm.

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231 support in his community had increased over the previous trying months, but his relations with his faculty were badly bruised, and his support in the Legislature, outside his local delegation, was an unknown quantity. From the Board of Control, its staff and the faculties and administrations of the other state universities he had received no support, but only silence. The gesture of Myron Blee, director of the Florida Institute for Continuing University Studies, in arranging the quiet luncheon before the session was all asr ; ii'i IFllee&tlU&: i11 H:IJsP the only offer of help Allen received in any form from any university system official as he prepared for his all-important address. The Board of Control had mumbled,_ sot to voce, that it wished Allen woul,dn 1 t make the address, but no alternative was suggested. Thus, when John s. Allen finally stood, tall and ramrod-straight, at the rostrum of the Florida Senate, he was both literally and figuratively alone. For twenty-five minutes, President Allen presented his rebuttal to the charges of Johns and Hawes, and his words and gestures were in stark contrast with.the tent-revival techniques of the committee counsel. Allen's speech was short, succinct and polished; his deliyery was calm and unemotional, and his voice was firm without being defiant. While his audience sat attention, he made .these points: Hawes' incictment was a blend of truths, half-truths, and om1.ss1.ons at the University of South Florida, the Corirrnittee found not a single member of the faculty, staff, or student body who is or ever has been a Conu"!luni st or a Communist sympathizer."

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One other development.of interest transpired before the President's appearance at the Legislature. A recorded telephone message in fampa was giving callers: "Let freedom ring! It is utterly amazing to see the great pressure which is being brought to bear to destroy the Johns Committee, created by the Flor_ida Legislature to perform a vital service for the people of this state. Regardless of whether the job done by the Johns Committe e was good or bad or even if it made mistakes in procedure, it would be a tragedy to set the precedent for the elimination of committee' s constituted by law to the people from bureaucratic abuses by certain of our public institutions. It is common knowledge that one of the chief objectives of subversive elements in the United States is to do away with all legal authorities who have the power to investigate and bring b e.fore the people the results of their investigations. We need this protection; it is vital to our survival. Let us guide but not destroy these vital committees. Let freedom ring!" An official of General Telephone Company told an Cf the state public utilities commission that General Sumte r L. Lowry was the sponsor of tha.t and other "Let Freedom Ring!" messages. Lowry denied the special number was carried in his State Department and the United Nations.had been used previously. The telephone company later denied it had identified Lowry as the subscriber and would not say who was paying Jor the phone cf.xJ:_ .r ,, Lu-l line. \

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Dr. Allen and the University's deans arrived in the a I "V -..... rr "'(.(..U ,_ r ., -k.. J Capitol at At the request of the delegation, tight security had been kept on the contents of his speech, and \ not even the delegation members themselves saw it before it was delivered. After a private lunch arranged by Dr. Myron Blee, Dr Allen and his associates went to the Capitol building for the joint session. An atmosphere of tense excitement pervaded the Capitol. The formal appearance of a state president before and the University of South Florida had reached a crucial crossroad, and in many respects the future of the man and the institution hung on the outcome of that session. Allen's

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232 -llIn the area of homosexual behavior the eomrni ttee established a case against one man out of nearly 500 persons on our payroll, yet medical authorities say 6 to 10 per cent of the population generally is active in this practice. -:
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233 contract to Dr. Fleming. The Legislative Committee had nothing to do with this decision." Allen also quoted from Hawes' letter admitting he had mistaken Fleming for another man with the same name. "I have my copy of that letter h ere," Allen said, "but Mr. Hawes failed to mention it to you." 9 !It \o obliquely and without of hi5ame---from the charges of .. UAa.. --
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234 soon as Allen finished, paused momentarily at the side of the rostrum and waved a wordless greeting to the president. In the halls outside, and in the press the following day, was aLmost uniformly favorable to the apech. -'-"---'-

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Bryant, at a news conferenbe the day after the speech, was his. usual fence-straddling self. When he was asked if he was satisfied with Dr. Allen's response to the committee 1 s charges, he said: "I did not hear all of the committee's charges. The committee's report was somewhat longer than I had anticipated and, because of engagements I had made, it was necessary for me to leave. And I have not reviewed the transcript yet so---and in any event I am not prepared to comment." Once again, Bryant had shown his unwillingness to give more than superficial support to higher education in general, and his refusal to give any assistance at all to the University of South F}.orida.or Johns. Allen.

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When the chips were down, President Allen had come through in admirable style. He had shown no trace of nervousness or timidity; on the contrary, his appearance and his speech had exuded dignity and confidence, and his audience was obviously impressed. Later that day, on the way back to Tampa his only comment on the was that more preparation had into it than any he had ever given. The preparation had shown clearly, for it was the best speech ta i> iR his six years as president of the University of South Florida. One of note following Dr. Allen's address appeared in the St. Petersburg Times under the title of "The Scholar and the Demagogues." Contrasting Allen's talk with the presentation of the Johns Committee, the Times spoke of "misrepresentations and deceitful insinuations made by the JohnsComrnittee counsel," the "shoddy structure of innuendo and half-truths" presented by \ Hawes, and the "fabrications upon which the Johns Committee built its case." A month later, Mark Hawes filed a $50,000 libel suit against the Times, charging that the editorial was in part "defamatory, libelous, false and malicious" and that it accused him of "acting in a deceitful manner andknowingly uttering falsehoods, lies and misrepresentations in his individual and professional capacity." Hawes was the time that a transcript of his address was available to the Times. But Allen's address, helpful as it was to the University and its supporters, still did not insure elimination of the

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235 committee by the Legislature. On the contrary, the power of Charley Johns remained undiminished in that body, and the consensus of commentators and observers was that the committee would be extended to save face for Johns. Editorial opposition to that move was almost unanimous across the and more than a few legislators were outspoken against the committee after the Delaney incident and Allen's speech, but forces for the committee used every tactic at their command to assure passag e of the bill of extension, and their efforts s e emed sure of success. On April 29, the Senate Appropriations Committee approved the bill and its $155,000 appropriation. The figure was $13,000 more than the committee had received in the previous biennium, and $80,000 more than had been appropriated to it, the additional $67,000 having come from the Cabinet's emergency appropriation. Vote in the Senate committee 12 to 3, with Tampa's Tom Whitaker, Ed Price of Bradenton (former chairman of the Board of Control) and Emory Cross of Gainesville (home of the University of Florida) dissenting. In the House, the first of two committee tests for the Johns group was passed on May 6 when the Committee on Government Organization vote d 11 to 5 for continuation of the investigating body. Testimony favoring the committee was heard from Hawes and R. J. Strickland, and also from Mrs. Stockton Smith, who was registered as a lobbyist for the comn:eee. Mrs. Smith said officials of the University had her supporters "witch hunters." Another person testifying for the committee was David R. Jones, a County school teacher who had resigned his

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236 teaching position ten days earlier to become a national director of the Young Americans for Freedom, an ultra-conservative group. The five committee members who voted against continuation of the Johns group were Murray Dubbin and Carey of Dade County, Fred Karl of Daytona Beach, and Tel:nell Sessums and Rene Z .acchini of Tampa. Three days later, the Senate took final action on the bill, passing it 30 to 14 after half an hour of emotional appeals from Charley Johns and two of his closest supporters in the Chop Gang one of whom---Ed Frazer of Macclenny, himself a member of the Johns Committee---praised R. J. Strickland as the "Dick Tracy of Florida's investigators." Tom Whitaker and Dempsey Barron of Panama City spoke against the bill, and twelve other Senators, including former Johns Committe e member Cliff Herrell of Mi' ami Springs and Bernard Parrish of Titusville, joined them. earlier Parrish was the Senator who made the crude remark about professors, inferring that their mothers were dogs. It took two more weeks---until May 23---for the House Appropriations Committee to act on the bil'l, but the result was the same. By a vote of 11 to 6, the committe e cleared the bill and sent it to the House floor for final action. Bobby Knowles of Manatee County led the futile opposition, and the stage was set for the House of Representatives to consider the bill on May 29. Most of the day's six pages in the House journal) \ t).s-tJ...6,L taken up consideration of the Johns Committee bill..Ten roll-call votes and several other voice votes were used on amendments, but in the end, by a vote of 90 to 32, the bill was passed. Amendments extending the committee's power to

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237 investigate Nazism, specifying that witnesses before the committee retained certain rights, and requiring regular fiscal and investigative reports were adopted, but efforts to weaken the committee or reduce its appropriation were all beaten down Some of the roll-call votes on crippling amendments were close; still, the committee 1 s supporters were clearly in control, and their warnings against "Communism and homosexuality" made all but a few legislators unwilling to risk association by implication with those emotional issues. More than a dozen members who voted against the committee through most of the roll-call ballots switched at the last minute to be recorded in favor on the final one, but even if they had remained consistent the bill would still have passed by thirty votes or so. The sentiment of the House was clearly for the Johns Cornmi ttee by two to one. The next day, the Senate gave quick approval to the amendments by the House and the bill, virtually unaltered from the original version introduced by Charley Johns, went to Governor Bryantfor his signature. Bryant let the session come to a close without signing the. bill, but it became law without his signature. His recorded ei t1).er or the committee as ttA 'diu.. fl.aAJ l.c.'-l'lt6 I 11 was a symbolic capstone to the montns-long the Johns group and the University of South Florida. through that period in almost complete silence, and his silence had been a comfort to the committee and a sword in the side of the University; now, with one final silence h ard around the state, his climactic "non-alignment" perpetuated the committee once again.

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238 Before the end of June, Senate President Wilson Carraway and House Mallory Horne new members to the committee, and the list included few new faces. J ohns, despite his promise to "retire, was reappointed, along with House members Richard o Mitchell of Tallahassee and George Stallings of Jacksonville. In all, the seven appointees included only one man---Earl Faircloth of Miami---who had voted against continuation of the investigative body. There were rumors of a shake-up of the committee staff and a move to polish the committee's image, but these hopeful stories were little consolation to the University of Florida and its supporters. They had fought hard, but they had lost, and the Johns Committee, new image or no, was still in power, with increased financial strength for two more years of probing. There were, however, some other consolations for higher education's hopeful. The Johns Committee's only other suggested piece of legislation, a bill that would have required rigid labeling and regulation of books and lecturers thought to be "subversive, was defeated 8 to 0 in the Senate Higher Education Committee, and never made it beyond that point. Johns and Stallings, in urging the committee to report out the bill, were predictably alarmist. To Board of Control director Broward Culpepper, who spoke against the bill, Johns said, "Whenever you try to preserve America for Americans, this is the type of obstruction you run into. Labeling textbooks, said Stallings, would be like "putting a skull and crossbones on a bottle of poison, and Johns added that the Communist threat "from within" was about to take over the country. "The universities in this state are breeding grounds

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for Communism," he said. "At the University of South Florida I was shocked to find out how the teachers felt." But the saw ; 239 Senate committee xxfKR the bill as too costly and and they rejected it. higher Another action of the Legislature favorable to was approval of a plan to finance $75 million in new construction at the state's universities and junior colleges. The plan, offered by Governor Bryant and modified by the Legislature, called for a constitutional amendment authorizing the issuance of $75 million in bonds to be repaid by receipts from the state utilities tax. The amendment, and a carefully-safeguarded law to implement it, ""'-was/ W:IU!'x prepared for the November general election, and Bryant announced his full support and approval. A third issue offering new hope for Florida's university system actually passed both houses, but during an extension of the regular session it was called up again and stripped of its real value. The bill was one that would have created a board of regents for the universities and complete control It included provisions for nine regents servingynine-year terms to replace the seven Board of Control members who served four-year terms, and---even more i mportantly---it took the board out from under the thumb of the Cabinet Budget Commission and Board of Education, making its financial and operational decisions subject only to post audit and the follow-up the Legislature itself. It could have been the key to Florida's passage out of educational bondage, and had it survived intact, it would have contained within it the ultimate answer to the Johns Committee and the host of other political and ideological pressures that plagued the institutions. But

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240 while the increase in size, length or terms and the change or e l nam e di rind their way, in the rorm or a constitutional amendment, onto the general election ballot of November, 1964, the vital provisions on fiscal and operational autonomy were gutted. With little ranrare,the universities had come within an eyelash or freedom from political control, but they had failed, and in the end the proximity to rreedom had only added to the or its necessity. The summer or 1963 was without the public excitement and controversy or previous months, but there was still evidence that the wounds of the past were not healed. Beneath the surrace, there were these developments: Earl Faircloth, who had accep-ted an appointment to the Johns Committee on the promise that Johns, and Strickland would be dropped, resigned w en they were not. Two weeks later, the committee met in secret to elect Richard 0. Mitchell as chairman, and at the same meeting Hawes and Strickland were fired after a two-and-one-half-hour discussion. The vote to dismiss the attorney and his investigator was five to two, official announcement said they had The Board or C ontrol hired a private investigator, presumably to look into ruture accusations against raculty and students and to help arm the Board and the universities against the President-Allen, saying he thought the committee would return to harass the University, privately told his administrators and the University Senate that further intrusions would be resisted, and he 1 hi' s uQ.iiolll 'itua. to an AAUP fund ror the hiring or an attorney to advise and assist University personnel who might be called to testify by the committee.

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* Faculty departures from the University of South climbed to 13 per cent, more than double the percentage of the previous year. -llR J Strickland, before the new Johns Committee could dismiss him, had spent more than $2,000 of committee funds without authorization. Among his forays was a picture-taking probe of students picketing segregated restaurants in Gainesville. Strickland cursed and spat upon some of the students, and threatened to have them thrown out of school. -:1Bruce Garwood the former administrative assistant and fraternity brother of Farris Bryant who in October of 1962 had authored the Board of Control's oppressive "implementation" document, lost his job with the Board staff after he was caught passing bad checks in Tallahassee. U)6..J .. -:!Jan Lee, the woman with reporter Robe r t Delaney had been trapped, was learned to have been on probation for passing bad checks at the time she was used as bait by Strickland and the Tallahassee police. -llJohns Committee expenditures in the State Comptroller's office showed among other things, that Mark Hawes had used a Tampa cocktail lounge as headquarters for many of his telephone checks with investigators around the state. Mark Hawes before he lost his job, was in the contradictory position of both investigating and defending Nazism. The newlyconstituted committee was authorized to probe organizations in the state, and at the same time it was learned that Hawes was representing a Palatka man named Tyler Gatewood Kent, a hate-sheet publisher who had spent six years in a British prison for stealing a secret code and giving it to the Germans

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during World War II. And in addition to these developments, there was further evidence in the summer of 1963 that the University of South Florida and the other universities under the Board of Control expected to hear more from the Johns Committee. Since the Board and the university faculty representatives had drafted 242 the statement of academic freedom and responsibility in December, committees at each institution had been preparing detailed proposals for its implementation. At the University of South Florida, Dean Russell Cooper and Dr. Thomas Stovall prepared the implementation procedures, and after considerable debate and discussion in the University Senate a revised version of the document was approved. In addition to Cooper and Stovall, the Senate Council and Dr. H. c. Kiefer, president of the University's AAUP chapter, gave considerable study to the wording of the statement of procedure, and with their support the Senate voted passage on June 10. At the same time, a detailed statement of-procedure for termination of 'iea a jQ faculty members was being drafted by the Board of Control staff, and after the presidents of the Universities had approved it and the senates had examined advance drafts, the Board adopted the policy. It included specific steps for preliminary investigation of complaints, specific causes for suspension, procedures for notification of suspension, faculty inquiry following suspension, and a series of appeals from institutional level to ultimate decision by the Board of 'Control. Probably the most important feature of the procedural structure was the requirement that preliminary investigation of charges be made before suspension

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243 could be imposed. The addition of policies on academic freedom and termination to the Board of C ontrol's official policy manual was in large measure a result of the University of South Florida's trying months of struggle with the Johns Committee. Previously the Board had had no written policy on academic freedom and responsibilit y and its statement on procedures of suspension, inquiry, dismissal and appeal had been unsatisfactory to many faculty members and administrators in the system. The University of South Florida could take much credit for the improvements in policy, but it had made The policy, after it passed the University Senate, went to the Board of Control office to be compared and reconciled with the similar documents from the other universities. The University of South Florida version dealt with selection of faculty, handling of complaints against faculty members handling of complaints by faculty members selection of students and handling of complaints from them, selection of teaching materials, and selection of visiting speakers. It enumerated the steps to be followed in compiling information on faculty applicants, and the persons to be involved before charges, and thus were subject to Board policy _____!1;__.; and termination; it committee for selection of students; it declared the right of the course instructor to choose his teaching materials, with advice when needed from his immediate superior; and finally, it said "guest speaker s representing a wide variety of viewpoints are consistent

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244 with the University policy and University thus appeared to multitude of new and improved safeguards and procedures for its protection against political and ideological assaults. In the wake of the Johns Committee report of the previous year had come four lengthy documents from the Board of Control, each an improvement over the one before, and policy on suspension, dismissal, appeal, academic freedom, selection of faculty, handling of visiting speakers and other issues that had previously been the source of emotional controversy seemed now to be clear. But these statements, important as they were, could not diminish one overriding fact: the Johns Committee was ct still in existence, and all that stood between \i:i,J and the universities were a few carefully written statements of policy that, like all statements, were subject to interpretation. Who would provide that interpretation when the next controversy arose? Would it be the Board of Education, the Board of Control, the universities themselves, or the Johns Committee? The answer to that question would have to wait for the next crisis, but in the meantime, the vulnerable structure of the university system remained the same. As long as it was susceptible to political intrusion and manipulation, the likelihood of further trouble was still a clear and present danger. The state of the Univers-ity of South Florida at the end of its third year of operation might best be described as a pattern of contrasts. In many respects, the institution's tribulations had left ineradicable scars; in other ways, though, progress and achievement appeared dominant. I

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245 As preparations for the 1963 fall term began, there was a kind of collective looking over the shoulder at the conflicts of the past, and everywhere on the campus---among administration, faculty and students alike---these preoccupations intruded on the functions o f the University. Among the faculty there appeared to be some improvement in morale, though the most vocal critics of the administration And there were several actions qy the administration---particularly with regard to suggested visiting speakers---that indicated a keen desire for u a period of quietude and an absence of controversy! Reflection, evaluation and assessment dominated committee meetings and coffee shop bull sessions, and there were grounds for both optimism and pessimism to support the hopeful and the discouraged, whether their view was backward toward the past or forward towartd the future of the University. On the negative side.there was continued criticism of the administration. President Allen's speech to the Legislature had done much to soften this criticism, but the subsequent continuation of the Johns Committee left much uncertainty on the campus. The president remained vulnerable to outside pressures, and some faculty interpreted nis cautiousness as timidity. There was still a lack of effective communication between Allen and most of the faculty, and his deans and other administrative colleagues had not been able to fill this need. Internally, the University's much-emphasized "all-University approach"---the attempt to unite all segments of the institution into one community---had all but failed, .and its principal features---joint appointments of faculty in two or more colleges, close and administrative

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union of the Colleges of Basic Studies and Liberal Arts, .. representation of all staff and students on standing committees and in the University Senate---these and other 246 characteristics of the all-University approach had either diminished or disappeared altogether. Historically, university have existed as castes within their institutional communities; the University of South Florida had tried to convert the caste system into an open society, and for the most part it had failed. Replacements for departing faculty members and new faces to fill newly-created positions but increasingly there was encountered an unwillingness among outstanding prospects to enter Florida's shaky academic atmosphere. The consensus of the deans and others who recruited for new personnel was that while good people were f0und to fill all available positions, other---perhaps better---prospects declined offers or showed no interest. Word of the University of South Florida's struggles had spread, and academicians elsewhere were familiar with Johns Committee and with the AAUP investigation, which they felt would result in censure of the University by the AAUP. And there were still other problems on the University's camp u s Where the all-University approach and the open-door policy for "one big, happy family" had weakened, more common characteristics of modern-day universities began to appear. As new buildings opened, their occupants became separated from the rest of the "-cam pus i h / self-contained clusters, almost like little feuda l societies ; the usual cliques, sacred cows organizational labyrinths and red tape channels sprang up and took root; and the

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247 administrative and professorial deadwood---the insecure, the vain, the jealous, the recklessly ambitious, the fraudulent, the greedy---found their way past careful screening into the ranks. In short, the University had become, almost overnight, a big institution, and at the same time it had moved dangerously close to becoming simply another state university, instead of the new and dynamic center of-educational quality it had set out to be. The Johns Committee eEa---at least for awhile---was over; a new and potentially more dangerous threat, the threat of mediocrity, had taken its place. The threat was a result of the fears created by the Johns Committee's presence, plus a natural relaxation of the torrid pace which had been set in the first year or two. It produced more concern for the University's image than for its reputation, for what it appeared was becoming. Like a grotesque ear to the ground, a finger on the pulse, a palm outstretched, an uneasy eye on the past and its head in the clouds. The University needed experimentation, it needed a pioneering spirit and some intellectual fermentation, but its roots political soil, and the cultivation it cried for was not likely to be given. But for all its problems and its weaknesses, the University of South Florida had much to show for its efforts. Indeed, considering the impediments to progress during its first three years, its record of achievement was truly remarkable. Enrollment had increased from 2,00 0 the first year to 4,600 in the fall of 1963; the physical plant had grown initial buildings

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at $5 million to fourteen building s totaling about $15 million; the faculty had grown by fifty to a hundred persons a year, and about 65 per cent of them---twice the average-held earned doctorates. By consistently emphasizing above all else its accent on academic quality, 248 the University had attracted large numbers of good students, and had earned a reputation for being an intellectually-demanding, "no-nonsense" school. National fraternities and intercollegiate sports had been kept at bay during the building years, and Dr Allen showed a consistent determinatio n to exclude big-time spectator sports permanently. The student body, some 20 per cent of whom were over 25 years of age and 75 per cent of whom commuted daily to the campus, gave consistently high performances on the Graduate Record and National Teacher Examinations, as well as other nationally-administered tests in various academic disciplines. The University' s four colleges offered well-planned courses fro m carefully designed curricula that included few frills and little or no duplication, and legislative approval of the engineering colleg e made it a virtual certainty for the 1963-65 biennium. A few students began to complete graduation requirements in advance of the first commencement in December, 1963, and an alumni association formed in July of that year eventually included about half of the first graduating class. Students t ransferring to graduate and professional schools around the country were welcomed on the strength of the University's even though it did not have formal accreditation, and they began quickly to prove their ability. A cooperative education program of good quality had been launched and was placing students in jobs .throughout the South and E ast, and facilities for an FM radio station and an educational television

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channel were started. The University library, after beginning from scratch, had catalogued more than 75,000 volumes and 2,000 periodicals. Cultural events produced by the University's strong fine arts division were attracting better than liDO,OOO persons a year, and were effectively serving as the University's answer to spectator sports. Research in a number of areas was expanding steadily. In sum, the University of South Florida's impact---educationally, culturally and economically---was becoming more and more evident. The year 1963-64 was a turning point and a time of transition; the University entered it gingerly, perhaps with less vigor than it should.have, but nevertheless with cautious hope that the trials of the past would not be repeated and the latent potential for truly fine. achievement would be realized in spite of the chinks in the state university system. And President John s. Allen, as he began_ his seventh year at the was a personification of the hopes and fears of.the EXXitxtimmx University. Th e man who was loved and hated, followed. and chased, heeded and ignored, was as much a puzzle of contrasts as was his institution. Through some eighteen months of almost continuous controversy heffound himself and his school anchored in a public fishbowl. He was a public figure and, in a way, a public property, yet he never sought publicity for himself and often. deliberately avoided it. He was both an intense individualist and a man who shunned individual hono r for the sake of the institution; he wanted desperately to preside over a tight-knit organization, yet he had none of the characteristics of the silk-smooth organization man. John Allen was a genteel, urbane, cultured and sensitive man in a job

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250 that sometimes required crude, earthy, cut-throat maneuvering; he was dignified, formal, often aloof and detached, when open and ingenuous informality might have served him better. Though di ed; he bluntness and coercion, he was called upon to use those tactics, and he used them half-heartedly at best. He was }':..;;Nfe of publicity, ill at ease and often ineffective among politicians and disdainful of greed and selfishness, yet his job brought all of these in a steady stream to his door. Outwardly warm and friendly, he was in many ways a lonely man \!!!_ental./ who withdrew into self-imposed solitaryyconfinement in the face of trouble, and even in less trying times he shunned directness and shielded his personal inclinations and convictions. So peaceful demeanor .x.mdx.B.XlliDCla& assidu,ously, .. ea Rmxkaxm Yet in spite of these things, John A llen was a patient, disciplined, highly competent and dedicated man of vision. He saw better than anyone else the University of the future, and he knew that growth and prosperity and ultimately even were inevitable for the institution. It was to this institution of the future that he dedicated himself, and it was for this institution that he felt himself forced, time and again, to sacrifice, to compromise and to buy time against the future. Dr. Allen's ability and his integrity were obvious; if his own best interests and those of the University som etimes were indistinguishable, it was because they were often For good or ill, the destiny of the University was xx.m firmly bound with the destiny of its president. There is little doubt

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251 that his departure would have set off the "wholesale housecleaning11 once predicted by Thomas Wenner, and ushered in an era of conservative control under a hand-picked puppet of the Governor and his Board of Control. With cautiousness and stubborn tenacity, John s. Allen held on to the University and waited, confident that growth and age would bring with them more freedom to resist the assaults of outside vested interests. There were those at the University who grew increasingly impatient with the president's repeated unwillingness to stand and fight openly,but in most instances neither reason nor realism were on their I side. Perhaps only in the case of D. F. Fleming was Dr. Allen's costly a sacrifice to be justifiable, arld there the shared by Dean Russell Cooper, who failed to apprise the president of a potentially controversial appointment; by the University news bureau editor, who persuaded the president to announce the appointment before he had familiarized. himself with Dr. Fleming; and by Vanderbilt's Chancellor Bran scomb, who deliberately aided the cause of those who resiated the professor's hiring. In his speech to the Legislature, though, Dr. Allen took full credit----or blame---for the Fleming decision, and if it was ldJi the most serious mistake of his presidency, he at least accepted full responsibility for it. The University of South Florida in its formative years sometimes suffered from a lack of dynamic presidential leadership; it suffered also , on occasion, from inexperi.ence, timidity and ambitious self-seeking among its deans and directors, and from naive and unrealistic idealiBm among its faculty. But it suffered most of all from the oppressive control of a governing body and a governor who neither understood nor appreciated the vital need of

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252 a university to be free from politica l and ideological mani ulation. Given the system in which it w a s born and the men who controlled the system, it is hard to imagine the University of South Florida as a stronger, freer institution than it was. Indeed, as it entered the fall of 1963, the state of its health---for all it l acked---was nothing short of miraculous. SEPTEMBER, 1983-JULY, 1984: PEACE I K THE VINEYARD There were those who questioned the University of South Florida's claim that it was the nation's "first completely new and separate state university" of the 20th century, but they were not among the participants and witnesses of the University's struggles of 1962 and 1963. These people did not need to be reminded how truly new and separate the institution was, for they constantly saw and felt its aloneness and its alienation from those charged with its protection and development. Still, the University entered its fourth fall in September of 1963 with some definite signs of blossoming strength, and 1963-64 .bec ame, iicomparison with previous, the quietest, most productive and least controversia l in its s hort history. ithout suspensions, firings and investigations to grab the headlines, the University gained ublic recognition of a more positive---if less sensational---sort with such accomplishments as preliminary accreditation, t h e first commencement and .. assurance of a $10 million capital expansion program. Only

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253 one discordant note---censure by the American Association of University Professors---spoiled an otherwise harmonious period, and that development did not come as a surprise. There was, in short---and in spite of the AAUP action---a relative peace in the academic vineyard, yet in the never-dull life of the University of 'South Florida that relative peace o....Astill was lively enough to include issuance.of an astonishing booklet on homosexuality by the Johns Committee, cancellation of a professional football player's scheduled speaking engagement on the campus, and dl picketing of a by a disorganized group of students. While stud.ent interest was c aptured by debate .over such age-old issues as football, fraternities and the wearing of shorts on cam pus, University officialdom was preoccu ied with three other issues of paramoun t importance: accreditation, graduation and the Colleg e uilding Amendment. The College uilding Amendment h a d been concocted by Governor Farris ryant and assed by the Legislature a s a method of producing $75 million much-needed dollars for university and junior college construction around the state. Basically, the plan called for a n amendment to the state Constitution which would p ermit the state to bo r row "75 million for construction during 1 963-65 and to pay off these bon s with receipts from the state utilities tax. The Legislature had approved the plan after tacking nu erous safeguards onto it, some of them ted by disclosure in the St. Petersburg i/Lu T i mes of a peculiar and questionabl e yre-financing maneuver carried out by the state road board chairman, a Bryant appointee. After the Legislature h a d passed a detailed law t o govern the

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254 issuance and use of t h e bonds, attention w a s turned to promotion -signal/' of the Constitutional amendment which would voter approval of the plan. Thomas F Fleming Jr., a oca Raton who had gained statewide attention for his service to higher education, was appointed by Bryant to head a committee for passage of the amendment, and the "'.iJ:Y ) 4iiS-is ttEtspi fJt tS' one of the wisest the governor's four years as chief executive. of the statewide team of hundreds---perhaps thousands---of workers, and guided skill. They the great, the near-great and the not-so-great, the Pork Choppers and t h e big-city boys, the Kennedy liberals and the Goldwater conservatives, and from this weird conglomeration of variously motivated citizens Fleming welded an steamroller. The indefatigable baru(er criss-crossed t h e state begging money and giving speeches, and he used his considerable charm and persuasion to enlist a sizea le core of 'influential men and women to help him with the organizational chores. result was a two-to-one vict o r y for the amendment. Farris Bryant considered it the crowning accomplishm ent of his administration, but it was om Fleming, more than the governor or anyone who had made it possible. There had been little open o position to the amendment, and with the governor, the State Cabinet, the universities and a majority of the Legislature suppo rting it the prospects for its passage had been very f avorable. ut beneath the surface were several limiting factors. people disliked the

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255 principle of bo rrowing large sum s instead of appropriating them or doing without. Those who hel d this view argued that it was unfair to require future generations to pay for needs., In addition, there were many who identified the issue with Bryant. These people felt t h e needs of the universities t\..l> o f 1961, and they were little inclined t o su port a plan that would make him look like a c hampion of education when he wa s in f act trying t o catch u p But Fleming adroitly kept the bond issue proposal free from over personalities or politics, and his state Citizens for Florida's jn putting across what was robably the single im in the history of t h e state university system. ( The amendment's passage was highly for all the state's colleg e s and universities, but for none more so than the University of South Flori da, which wa s thus assured specifications, among them graduation of at least The University of South Florida naturally coveted the accrediting agency's stamp of a pproval, and i t e xceeded all other standards required of i t but i t s third class would not g r a duate until 1966. T o avoid t his wait, t h e University a pealed for s pecial recognition, and at its annual meeting in December the associatio n created a new c ategory designed for the University and other new

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256 institutions which met all standards except length of time in existence. The recognition, though somewhat provisional and not formally complete, nevertheless g ave the University all it could have h o ped for. The association said, in e ffect, that it was satisfied with the q uality of the new university, and its eventual acceptance into full membership and accreditation was assured. The association had sent evaluation team s /90 on informal visit s to the Universit and their reports had I borne out this co nfidence. A s further evidence of its pleasure with the progress of the University, the association chose as Dr. Ha rris V. Dean, a professor of education at South Florida, as its president-elect, marking one of the few times in its history it had elected a non-administrator to that post. The final milestone of 1963 was the University' s first commencement ceremony. Under the accelleration of the trimester s ystem, the University had some 325 studentsready to graduate at the end of the fall term, and President Allen decided to hold one commencement just before the Christmas holidays and another at the end of the second trimester the following April, when more than 200 additional m embers of the charter class Though the predictable nature of commencement ceremonies tends t o make t h e m ordinary and sometimes boring events, the significance of the first one for a new institution can make of it a historic and newsworthy occasion, given the presence of enough dignitaries and a prominent speaker. That the University of South Florida ended up with Farris Bryant as its first commencement speaker is not only ironic but

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particularly in light of the circumstances w hich prompted his choice. before the projected co m e ncement date, President Allen had enlisted t h e aid of Congressman Sam Gibbons and other Floridian s with varying d e gree s of influence in Was hington t o persuade President John F K ennedy to mak e the address. Initial response from m e m bers of Kennedy's staff was f avorable, but the reques w a s made so far in tha t no com mi tment could be made, and Dr. Allen was asked to renew t h e i nvitation l ater i n t h e y ear. When he did so in the fall, it appeared for awhile that the i nvitat i o n would be but a t the 1 l ast minute Senator George Smathers lined u p a mid-November since the President could not book a return t o Tampa a month -Lt:J after that, the University missed out opportunity. But it C -ould not have-been, in any event A wee k after his midNovember appe a rance in Tamp a Presiden t Kennedy was dead, slain b y assassin i n the streets of Dallas, Texas. J ohn F Kennedy's death was a par a lyzing shock for all Americans, a mort a l blow t o those who loved him and a n indeli ble b rand on the consciences of t hose who h d made him the most revil,ed president in a A t t h e University of Sout h Florida the President's loss was acutely felt by students and staf f m e b e r s who for t hllee y e ars had closely identified their young i nstitution with t h e youthful and vigorous N ew Frontier. In 1961 a group of students a t t h e University had collected 10,000 signatures on a n invitation to Kennedy to visit t h e cam us, a n d the wording o f t h e close parallels between t h e Kennedy administrati o n and the

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258 development of the University. Shortly after the President's death, a n incident at a restaurant near the developed into the only real controversy of the fall. O n November 24 a Negro student and member of the University band wen t to the restaurant with a group of his bandmates after an evening concTt. The entire g roup w a s refused service, and i n the final weeks before the Christmas holidays a poorly organized g roup of students &aBKIKSIK picketed the restaurant intermi ttently. he students were criticized b y S t ate Representative William Chappell of Ocala and by the still-functioning "Let Freedom ing" teleph o n e IIGif.., Q n one occasion a=oup of = by a g a n g of angry w hites, bu ontinued their for more than a month. Dean of Student Affairs Herbert J. Wundefnich would sanction nor disapprove of the students' action "so long as you rem ain within the law and conduct yourselves in an appropriate manner." Wunderlich.and som e members of the faculty w -ere accused b y segregationists of pressuring the restaurant owner to integr ate, but the charge w a s without foundation. In the end the students were not successful, and i t was n o t until the Civil R.ights ill was signed i nto law by P r esident Johnson on July 2 that the racial barriers were lowered at the restaurani. he l a w w a s tested within ho urs after it W S sign e d and the restaurant owner made no effort to refuse service to the N_egro who so.ught it.

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Dr. Alien, e !.ul jn bi S get r. Kennedy for the commencement at last to what he felt was the only in-state choice open to him. llen was urged to ask Le Collins, but the president decided the political risks in selecting ryant's more illustrious predecessor were too great With reluctance and resignat ion, Allen at length asked Bryant, and A t an outdoor ceremony under gave a lacklustre perfor mance before an audience of less than 3,000 persons. It was, sadly, just another commencement, and the University's once-in-a-lifetime chance to. get n ational attention with a graduation ceremony slipped all but unnoticed into history. One other action of Bryant's in the fall of 1963 should be mentionefr here. Early in September, ryant and State Budget Direetor Harry Smith collaborated to hold up approval of the budgets of the universities while they and the Cabinet nit-picked at the s alaries of 114 professors. A s if to prove the existence of the encumbe r i n g udget co n t rols which h a d been so soundly criticized i n the McDonald Report, Smith and the governor delayed by almos t three months the issuing of new fiscal year contracts for all university system emP l o re e s while they chipped awa y at salaries already by the presidents and the B o ard of Control. In the end they approved most of the salaries, but the princi le of iron-cla d control ... A t the very time Bryant was pushing his massive bond-financed building program, he w a s Kki taking just enoug h dimes and q u arters out of the f aculty

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259 payroll t o mak e i t abundan l y clear that he, and not the oard of w a s running the university system. It w a s an unnecessary demonstration of power, and of disregard for the 1cDonald eport economy, disconcerting a s a..-.. r ather than outright do minate cam pus bull sessions. The Johns Committee was still a topic of frequent discussion and speculation, but with th e comrni ttee striving for a "new look," the talk was more a caaemic than it had been i n the past. Richard 0. Mitchell, the state r .epresentativ e from Tallahassee who had become chairma n of the committee, issued a statement in S e ptember saying the new body wa s pledged "to conduct itself in such a way a s to properly reflect the high level of i ntegrity whi c h is t h e hallmark of the F lorida Legislature." It was an encou ragi _ng start, and t h e absence o f Mark H awes and R J. Strickland from t h e committee's staff likewise gave cause for ho pe, but the University of South Florida and most of 'its editorial supporters of the past took a cautious stance, waiting for actions to back up the words. In St. Petersburg attorneys for the, T i mes continued preparing their defe nse against H awes' libel suit, though by then it appeared likely that H awes would never pursue it JLS far to the trial stage. Elsewhere, the AAUP chapters of the state set up a committee on academic privileges and l egal right s t o determin e what procedures s hould be followed in the I

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260 event of renewed i nvestigations. itchell e fforts t o u pgrade the public image of he com mittee. Charley Johns w a s still a member, an the press still called i t the John s Committee, tk but 1itchell seeme d determined to lingering vestiges of witch-hunting. Leo Foster of Tallahassee was appointed i n November to replace Mark Hawe s as committee counsel, and C. Lawrence ce, a retired F I was hired as chief investigator. Then on rovember 18 Mitchell John Evans, press secretary and administrative overnor Bryant, would become the committee's staff director The Tampa Tribune expressed hope in an editorial that ore than t h e f aces changed, and the cautious wait for the committee's first investigative fora y continued. Dick Mitchell was no flaming liberal. e was comfortably a t home among such committee colleagues as Johns and e resentative George Stallings of Jacksonville, but at the same tim e he w a s a quieter and more likeable person, and many who knew him well took seriously his pronouncements about upgrading the behavior of the committee. In December and January, Mitchell ap roving was quoted on numerous occasions &uck open meetings for his committee and eschewing "immor al, i llegal or unethical" methods of procedure. H e indicated that future investigations might center on the lack Muslims and the American Nazi Party, and he s aid paid informers, sex traps and c ampus probes were a t h ing of t h e past. Over and over, xitchell and John Evans spoke of the committee's sole urpose 1X recommending legislation, not polictwork.

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261 ut Mitchell and Evans, a s diligently a s they attempted to assuage old fears, could not continue the straight face. A t its first public meeting in January the co mmittee dwelled. on ho mosexuality as its rimary assault objective, and it investigations would co ntinue .. CO $155,000 asted," headlined a St. Petersburg Times editoria l the next day. It was not until though, that the major contribution of the new Johns Committee issued forth. On the same day staff director Evans announced of homosexuality in the ublic schools would be the State Department of Education, the committee distributed a 48-page bo
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262 Reaction was immediate and vigorous. In Tampa, Representative Robert T Mann told the Tampa 'times he strongly objected to the publication,1 saying it served to :further spread the information and picturas the committee wanted to suppress. Mann a.lso.said the report dwelt on law enforcement rather than recommendations for new laws. In Miami, State Attorney Richard Gerstein la eled the booklet "obscene and pornographi, c11 and threatened to bring suit to blac k its distribution in Dade County. And the Tampa Tribune, in a. blistering epitorial, said the cornmi ttee, 11er who ever has been running it in the last three years, h a s shown an obsessive interest in homosexuality." The editorial concluded with these words: "The committee's report has a purple cover. The cover is appropriate. It the contents. And it ought to suggest the color of the faces of legislators who voted that new $155,000 for the Johns-Mitchell and the f aces of the citizens whe 11 pay it Other legislators and newspapers joined in c r i ticism of the document. The Miami Herald, pointing out that the booklet I bore the official state seal and "the governor's office as the return address," said everyone. connected with the pamphlet should resign. Governor Bryant, in predictable fashion, old his weekly \.Jlac!, press conference he had. n 't seen "the book and ha
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263 "I don't particularly wan t to look at this from what I have read about it.'' Would he read it? "I don't know whether I ever will or not," the governor said. At his press conference the f o l l owing week, Bryant was asked a gain if he had read the book. "I have had a chance," he said, "but I haven't done it, I am sorry to say. This has not be-en as you probably suspect deliberate effort at evasion, but I have been kind of busy and I just haven't done that. I have a copy of it and expect to do it." Have you had a. chance to examine the purple pamphlet y t?" a s ked a repor er for the third straight week at the governor's April 2 press conference. "I have, but I haven't done it. I haven't read the pamphlet yet," Bryant re-plied, hedging once again. The reporters gave up, and the governor was not asked that e mbarrassing question again. James W Kynes, whom Bryant had recently promoted from his own staff to the state attorney generalship, was not as diffident as his former boss. The pictures in t h e ooklet were "clearly r pulsive and shocking," Kynes said, "and if any of th reports have been disseminated to the general public, they s hould be promptly withdrawn." -Even Senator Bill Young of Pinellas C('}unty, the only Republican member and a man whose conservatism at least matched that of any of his colleagues, grudgingly admitted he had some reservations a out the ap earance of the booklet. "It's definitely repulsive to read," he said, adding t hat he disagreed with the manner in which it h a d been presented. From this wall of anger and indignationand dismay, Evans and Mitchell quic kly retreated Evans, after first s aying the

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264 booklet would be put up for sale to the general public, changed that by saying it had all been a mistake. It had only been intended for legislators and public officials and honest-to-goodness study groups, he said. Meanwhile, almost a thousand orders for copies of the booklet flooded into the capitol, and the committee staff began returning the money. Suddenly, the purple pamphlet Di c k Mitchell had predicted would be a "best seller" was no longer a vailable. With what appeared to be good'intentions, the Johns Committee had blundered into perhaps the most serious mistake in its stormy history. Thinking a blunt and shocking report would be received favorably, the committee and its staff showed an u nbelievable lack of propriety and discretion. heir grea t miscalculation was but another example of their lack of competence for the task they had assigned themselves. Th e final footnote to the purple pamphlet incident came J I .. three months later when it was learned that a boo{. club in (3 -6 ashington had reprinted the booklet and was selling it 1 J nationally for two dollars a copy. In promotional literature :J t included ads on a variety of homosexual-Oriented materials, n ; ;the book club called the purple pamphlet "the most amazing book .: we have ever seen come from any public bo d y." A representative t1J the club noted that the booklet was an uncopyrighted state ent and therefore available to anyone. e said 10,000 re-prints had been produced, and added that sales, particularly gin Florida "are quite good." It remained for the Tampa T ribune to sum up response to the pa1pphlet and to the "new" Johns Committee after a year on the job. In a June 29 editorial, the Tribune s a i d "the

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265 I publication of this shocking work apparently represents the principal achievement of the Johns since the 1963 Legislature gave it a two year e .xtension." One of the first orders of business for the 1965 Legislature, said the editorial, "should be to abolish the committee before it disgraces Florida any further." All any legislator needed to reach tha t conclusion, the editorial added, "i to read the booklet--in either the 25-c ent o r $2 edition. 11 The booklet's appearance provided fodder for the political campaigns of the spring of 1964, and those vho attacked it generally fared well at the polls, giving rise to speculation that the committee would be abolished in 1965. Chairma n fitchell and his staff director, doggedly striving to repair the damage, met secretly with the Board of Control and the university them that in of all the responsibly. The presidents were unconvinced. In the year that remained before the Legislature would once again determine the committee's fate, t here was sure to be watchfulness on the campuses. The controversy set off by dist ibution o f the purple pamphlet in arch w a s the first involving the Johns Committee in more than three years that did no t also involve the University of South Florida u t the University had little. tim e t o relax and enjoy the commi ttee's embarrassment, for two other a l most simultaneous i ncidents put the i nstitution b a c k in o the big headlines. he first involved c ancellation of a speech, a n d t h e s econd co ncerned publication of the AAUP' s report on the Univer s ity and Dr D F Flemin g

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The University's physical education staff h a d engaged ill Wade quarterback of the Chicago Bears, to be principal speaker a t an intramural sports banquet. When Wade led his team t o the champion s hip of the rational Football League, /, 2 66 the University' s Executive Committee began to worry that Wade's appearance would be interpreted as a sign that football was bei g considered fol' the school. After considera le discussion with Physical Education Director Gilman W Hertz and Professor Richard owers, the man who had persuaded Wade to accep t the i nvitation, it w a s decided to cancel out. Hypersensitivity t o criticism thus precipitated another crisis. -. Dean of tudent Affairs H erbertYWunderlich accepted full responsibility for cancellation of the s peech "This bas no reference to riade a s a person," t h e dean said, adding that his appearance "would lead 10 to false hopes that aren't realizable 'and to interpretations that we are now pushing or promoting football." The u nfortunate c ancellation bro tght bitter comment from Tampa's sports writers, and an editorial in the University's student paper, while s aying the school's go.-slow policy on intercollegiate s p o rts "makes sense," added tha t "cancelling ade' s talk on campu s doesn' t W e doubt if anyone w a s much aroused by the prospect of i ntercollegiate s orts upon hearing that the quarterback of the national c hampionship football team would be on campus. N o one connected the two.n Until the ade i ncident President Allen had steered a steady and co nsistent course for the University in the area of intercollegiate sports. In spite of heavy pressures in .., the community and even from elsewhere i n the state, Allen had

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267 maintained the position that t here would e no int e rcollegiate sports before a ccreditation and that football and basketball were not i n c luded in the picture a t all. he Vade decision was an attempt to re-emphasize that position, w a s a weak unwanted public Surprisingly, o f f the sports pages, and in a few days its w a s forgotten. The University faculty gave only passing notice to the cancellation, t hough it w a s in many ways similar to the earlier ones that had led t o so much trouble. One such earlier cancellation had involved' Professor Fleming of Vanderbilt, and on the same day the ill Wade story hit the papers, the national journal of the American A s sociation of University Professors published its report of Fleming s encounter with the Universit y of South Florida. President Allen had first received the re ort f the two-man AAUP investigating team in mid-November, four months b fore its publication, e was hurt and angered by the report' s contents, but he did, a s a cover letter from the AAUP had asked, send his comments and corrections of errGrs of f act back to the organization s headquarters. e had understood that his comments would e published along with the report, but while his corrections were i ncorporated, his letter of response did not appear. T h e report itself, covering 14 pages in the AAUP journal, w a s well written and, for t h e most part, accurate. I t recounted the events leading to All'en' s dec ision---the

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268 correspondence between Fleming and Dean Russell Coo per, the news release announcing Fleming' s appointment, the customary i nformational materials sent to h im a s a new member of the f aculty, Coope r's c all to Fleming on July 6, 1962, to tell h i m his formal ap p o i ntment would not be sought from t h e oard of Control, and fin_ally, on July 21 Fleming' s official notification of that decision in a letter from Allen. The report concluded that, whether t h e president' s decision w a s or forced u pon him by the oard, it "constitutes for all p r a ctic a l pur-poses a dis issa l of Professor Fleming. The report also alluded to the Caldwell and Grebstein affairsin a general section on conditions of a c ademic freedom a t the Universit y It related, also, t h e i ntrusions of the Johns Commi ttee and the succession of policy statements issued by the B o ard of Control. Its conclusion contained t hese state ments: "One cannot review recen t events at the University of South Florida without a sense-o f outrage. A faculty and deans, many of exceptional energy and vision, hoping to put into effect a program not ham ered by inertia and vested i nterests, were pounced u pon by a private organizati8n and a public agency The consequent distraction of energies and thought and the disruption of normal duties shamefully wasted and nervous energy. The Board of Control was particularly culpab l e in its failure to stand between this new institutio n and its critic s The P resident ikewise failed, at east through the period s pecifically involved in this report,

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269 to respond with proper vigor to the forces of ignorance( prejudice, and repression. This committee is aware that the pres were great. Responsi bi li ties were correspondingly so. A t any time, but especially in periods of tension, the protec tion of academic integrity is a primary function of trustees and administrative staffs. In this respect, bot h the oard and the President were delinquent." The report s aid the oard and the p resident "must share the responsibility" for the Fleming decision, the suspensions and the of speakers on the The AAUP jo nnal reached the press on Marc h 20, 1964, the same week the Johns Committee' s purple pamphlet was issued and Billwade' s speech was cancelled. After months of peace, the Universit y of South Florida w a s bac k i n deep w ter President Allen, w hen reached at home by a rep orter, said he was "shocked that they did not include my letter in the, bulletin." H e said he would take the matter up directly with the association. ri! 'm not going to debate this in the newspapers, 11 he s aid. eld firmly to the technicality that he had not signed Fleming's papers, and that the p rofessor had t herefore never been appointed. Allen also continued to maintain that the n .egati ve recommendation of Vanderbilt's Chancellor Branscomb had been sufficient reason not to appoint Fleming The AAUP repor t held opposite views on these issues, and Allen felt that the report had treated him unfairlY. e told the University Senate on 1arch 2 5 that the report was iased and contained some inaccuracies, and h e gave every i ndication

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270 was not i nclined to pursue a solution to the threa t of AAUP censure. Three weeks after the journal appeared, the AAUP held its national meeting in St. Louis and voted t o place the University of South Florida on its list of censured institutions. President llen' s response to the censur e was to shrug it off. W e 're i n good company, he said, noting tha t the University of Illinois was among the 15 schools on the list. "I don' t believe it will hurt us.u Few peo le at the University shared that view, and many objected to the president' s expression of it. One faculty e_:l member co m mented, "It wasn t t h e censur e that 1 us---everybody was more or less resigned to the inevita iljty of that---it was the president' s reaction. First he was 'shocked' a t what he called an unfair and biased report, then h e the censure by saying W e 're in good co mpan y.' ow people here feel we're not only claiming innocenc e but making no effort to get off the list, and a s a result, what little f aith the faculty had regained in the president has been acstroyed again, may e for good. Around the campus th feeling was prevalent that every effor t should be made to get the University r emoved from the G nsure list. But th r was disagreement o ver how this could or should be done, and even ov r the question of what effect the censur would have. The 4ard truth of the matter was tha t the University would probaply remain on the blacklist for a long tim ---as long, perl1aps, as the Flori a university system was i mmersed in politics, as long a s the presidents o f the

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271 were powerles s t o direct their institutions without interf renee, and as long a s D F Fle m ing remained unemployed and by the University of South Florida. \ Dr. r ow ard C ulpeppe r the B o ard of Control's executive director, told a group of th University' s fac lty a t an off-th -cuff gathering that if he were president of the i nstitution h e would "get the Foundation to pay Fleming 6,000." President Allen did not make such a request of his Foundation, perhaps A s for the damage, only time n all -probability, the censur e would prove t o be not a s serious a s most f aculty feared, and not a s uni mportant a s President Allen hoped. Whatever the result, the Fleming affair rema ined the University o f Sout h Florida s "Bay of Pigs." It w a s an incident not t o be forgotten by those or participated in it, and it had lef t its indelible mark on the University. '' Looking bac k who w a s ultimatel y t o blame ? The AAUP report, wh ile criticizing the Johns Committee, placed the resp o nsibilit y on Allen and the o a --d The state s nelrspapers bore down h e avily on the c o mmittee and the Board. But t h e man who wa s a lmost totally overlooked was Gov e rnor Farris Bryant Only Represe t&tiv e Fred Kar l then i n an ill-fated rac e for the governorship, pointed to h i m He s aid Governor Bryant and the oard should have stood u p to the Johns Committee i n th beginning and told it not to interfere with t h e University administration. This is where t h e blame. belongs," he said.

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272 Fred Karl' s charge was more than mere camp aign oratory. A s a consistent and informed suppo rter of educ ation in the state, Karl knew well the power the governor held o ver the schools, particularly at tl e u niversity level. H e knew that the governor appointed the members of the Board of Control, and that th se appointments were on the basis of political p atrona g ; he knew also that the governor was head of the State Cabinet, including th Cabinet B o ard of Education, which had the power to ov rrule the Boar d of Control on all matters of any significance. And Karl knew that the governor co uld make his i nfluence felt in the Legislature, and in legislative committees such a s the Johns Committee. But Farris Bryant, when he h a d exercised his power and influence a t all, had xercised it more against the universities than for them Bryant could have called off the Johns Committee in the very beginning of' its University of South Florida investigation, -but he didn't; he co uld have led the oard of Control in r sistance to the co mmittee, but he didn't; and, w hen the committe published its 11findings11 and again when it reported to the Legislature, ryant could h ave spoken out in defense of the university, but he didn' t Fred Karl knew t hese things, and he k new of numerous other occasions when ryant's n utralism or his neg ativism had added to the injury of the u niversity system, it w a s this knowledge that prompted him to place the blame s q u arely on the governor The reviva l of the F leming matter by the AAUP also served to re-open t h e question of academic !n addition t o the AAUP' s statements on this issue, there w a s -

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273 spring the to answer irresponsible criticism of a cam us appearance by Archibald McLeish. Elsewhere i n nation that same year, a legislative investigation of alleged l axity toward Communism at the University of Minnesota took place, members of the N ew York at Buffalo the University of Illinois pondered what to do a out a 'conservative f aculty me ber' s lrresponsi le public state ents after it had recently decided not to retain the services of another f a culty m e mber whose unorthodox liberal views had becom e controversial. Clearly, a s drew H a cker wrote in the N ew York 'rimes Magazine, urf Senator Joseph HcCarthy is no longer with us, the issue of a c ademic freedom remains ver y mu c h alive." It was academic freedom the AAUP was s eaking of when it censured John Alle n and the oard 0f Control, and it was that for lack of a n understanding of a c ademic freedom iki Fred Karl had criticized Governor Bryant. no one answer to the University of and no one person could rightfully shoulder all the blame for those troubles. ut with generous allowances for the shortcomings of all concerned, it must be said that Dr. Allen, had he chosen t o stand and fight, could not reasonably h ave been expected to kax succeed without the support of the Board of Control, and the oard, even if it h a d been so i nclined, could not have withstood the John s Committee without the help of F arris ryant. other institutions a l l across the country were experiencing varying degrees of di ffi c u l ty

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i n matching the principle with the p r a c tice of a c ademic freedom, Florida' s u niversity syst em was hampered by its top public official's rejection of the pri n ciple and I 274 the consequent l a c k of faithful practice i n the universities themselves. ryant was i n his last year as governor of Florida. In th s pring of 1964, six men w ho sought to s ucceed h im locked ho r n s i n the Democratic primary election. Three of the candidates---Fred Karl, State Senator John 1 athews and Miami Mayor Rober t King H igh-gave evidence of hope for t h e improvement of higher education, while the other three---Jac ksonville 1ayor Haydon Burns, S tate S enator Scott Kelly and Bryant protege Fred 0 Di c k i n so n---threatened to b e at least as harmful as Bryant had been. Burns and Dickinson had been unsuccessful candidates in 1960, and were rated the favorites to finish at o r near the t o p in t heir second tries. Kelly, who actively sought to' establish h i mself a s more co nservative than the two front-runners, was well-financed .II.. and considere d a threat. Karl and 1athews, both knowledmable \ .. about the problems or expected to cancel each other out, and High, a liberal supporter of the late President Kennedy, was not given muc h of a chance. urns' well-oiled ma c h i n e led in the first primary, but the surprise second-plac e finisher w a s Miami's High, and the tw o went into a runoff election. Edu c ation lost its champion i n Karl, who finished last, and its close s e cond choice, 1 a thews, was a poor fifth. The three conservative candidates bad combined totals more than adequate t o throw

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275 the election t o Burns, and High, whose main support c ame f r o m his populous home county of Dade, was not given much chance to win. A s it turned out urns secondpri ary margin was a comfortable sixt o f our. The two candidates publicly agreed on one thing---abolition of the Johns Committee---but beyond that theY: were poles apar't, and urns' ultra-conservatism onpractically every other issue raised doubt s about his sincerity i n echoing the now-popular a nti-commi ttee sentiment.. The heated campaign between the two big-city mayors produced many sparks, not a few of whic h flew when met in public debate on the University of South Florida campus. A crowd dominated by High partisans lustily cheered their bantam-sized, red headed hero, and a scowling acid t ongued urns s howed his displeasure at being cast as the vi lian. nomination ut Haydon urns won the IiirliJt, and was a op-heavy f avorit e t o defeat his little-known Republican o pponent in the November genera l election. It had all gone pretty much as expected, and few p eople seemed to realize the real significanc e of i t .. ecause of a voter-approved shift of gubernatorial elections t o non-presidential elect i o n years, Haydon urns would be permitted,ia if elected i n 1964, to hold office until 1966 and then r u n for re-election to a full four-year term H e would, if successful in 1964, probably be able t o ride his i n cumbenc y to a six-yea r reign. For a university system a t the c rossroads, the prospect was a bleak one. The very futur e of higher education i n Florida was, more than ever befor e dependent u pon the govern o r who would replace Farris Bryant arring some serious l pse on

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276 his par t tha t ma n would serve u n ti] 197 0 and while he held office the u niversity syste m would l iteral l y e made or broken. I f the new governor chose to promote a c ademi c freedom and the no,uri shment of quality, F lorida's uni versi ties could accomplish things precedent in the but I if he chose to continue Bryant's negativism---or worse., if he openly a t t a cked the universities---he could reduce the sleep ing giant to an ineffectual R i p Van Winkle, a costly anachronism passed over by history. Florida' s universities, helpless to c hang e the course of events, loo ed with c aution and fea r to .......... t h e rest of the Sixties. seem e d c e rtain t o rest in t h e hands of an extremely unpredicta 1ey,a1tra-conser vative politica l boss. And while i t waited for t h e November election, the Uni. versi t y of Florida p e a cefull y con c l uded its fourth year of operation. Except f or t h e AAUP report, it had been a y ear of quiet progress, without doubt t h e best a cade mic y ear the insti t u tion had experienced. Continued growth w a s marked by t h e second c .ommencement f o r c harter class m embers in April, by som e i m portant n e w appoi n t ments, xxi by t l e sta r t o f a limited g raduate p rogram (in elementary educ ation), and by a ma!'ked i ncrease in the siz e and num b e r of research ,_ g rants r eceived b y the f aculty. R ecovery f r o m a calam tous an pas t was slow for the Untversity, but it w a s nonetheless noticeable and o nce again potential,Kfxk and about the future. Amid the linge r ing n ightmares and the politica l u ncertainty, som e dare d t o dream.

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j ""{{I 3 277 The year 1 963-64 brought the University o f South Florida ong i t s major accomplishments, 1 j. a big stride closer to ma t u r i ty. { r 3 new appointments and projections toward t h e future were these: f Preliminary accreditation charter commencement and 3 t capital expansion, all mentioned wer e realized within t a m*onTthheof each t>t h e r Colleg e of Edgineering cleared its final hurdle, and v ; { Edgar W Kopp w a s nl'ffied dean (after more harassing delays by who quibbled over the proposed salary). v Business Manager Robert L Dennard w a s romoted to Dea n i J Administration, a new position. H e also took on a specia l f. i assignment: pumping life into the near-moribund Foundation. .. ole:tD:: ::l:::::t:: :::o::::i:::t promoted t o Dean of A c a .demic Affair s re lacing D r Sidney J Dean 3 Fren c h who had reached t h e co m pulsory retir ement age Fren c h t J efa principal architect of the education program and 1 with P resident Allen of mast of t h e University's -t earl y policies, returned to tea c hing and s pecial projects rath e r than leave com pletely the institution he had helped t o J. b. t b j r 1 ng 1. n o e1. ng 1 tri mester s ystem after two years in the state's 5 i I univer sities, seemed to vrork better at the Universit y o f 1 S outh Florida tha n at the other i nstitutions. A larg e number 3 f3 of commuters and adult contri uted t o his, a s did (.) were needed in the j J J system but i t s ho wed p romise of success. *A degree program i n elementary education, first at the graduate level, d rew more than a hundred students to

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2 7 8 its f i rst modest offering of classes. Fu rther master's p rogr ams in secondary education the s ciences and languages seemed near at hand, and other areas also were mak ing plans. Doctoral progDams seemed no more than five years away A faculty commi t tee worked most of-the year on a constitution for the University, and c ompl tion app eared likely in 1964-65 A l l of these changes were a part of the Uni ve r sity' s continuing development Slowly, an of authentic university c ha .racter s eemed earlier newness whi c h had remained, a o v e and beyond .... political intrusion. Dean F renc h i:P M a I n befor e his retirement, our roots are not yet deep, we and growing rapidly. Can we sprea d our root system in different attern? Or are we becoming, too rapidly, a conventional university? Are we too obsesse4 with per i matters, increased enro llrnent, g raduate wor k a medical scho o 1 s peedup year around operation, annual contracts, resea r c h contracts, s ab batic als, and othe r f"ringe matters to take a long hard look at wha t we are doing and what we are not doing in educating young people? Are we settling down t o a co m fortable way of life? Have we lost the unity pnd flexibility we once boasted of?

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279 "There is still, and always has been, a great future for this institution. It may not be realized. I t is not in size, number of colleges, q uality of programs, good standards, and strength of faculty, i mportant as these are; it is in constant and continuing expe:rr-imentation with mor e effectiv e higher education It is t h e only way in which this University can make its concern every institution hey were pertinent questions for a u niversity in ferment, and the University of South Florida, given l atitud e from its political f athers, hoped to seek the answers. And President John Allen, w h o once had said a university president was similar to the conductor of a symp hony orchestra w a s proving h i mself t o be an able leader when the jarring politica l notes were ho r n s of the J ohns ensemble, section and keep Haydon urns If he co uld avoid t h e c a cophonous get Farr1 s ryant out of, the u f rom e ft lils"ti a ;c ertma s t e r he might well develop someth ing significant with experimenta l arrangements of some c l assica l com osi tions. ot all his p l ayers understood o r approved of what he was striving for, but they wero professionals, for the most part, and they would p l a y along unti 1 they had heard the number through---or until the political c ymbals broke up t h e concert again.

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17"Lf -f'i' OLIIDICS PREVAILS L____ The University of South Florida's fifth year of operation was unmarked by the heated conflicts that had characterized earlier years, and two major reasons for this First, the University had passed over that invisible dividing line that separates the .young and vulnerable from the established and respectable. Enrollment had climbed to 6 ,500, the first graduates (about 750 of them) had entered the workaday world, institutional expansion was continuing, and in other ways as well the people of the state were becoming the University' s presence. ,Secondly, the University could for the first time rid itself of the role of runt in the Florida university litter. It was no longer the anemic infant, the youngest product of the system, for Florida Atlantic University had opened its first year in Boca Raton and the Florida Institute for Continuing University Studies was operating extension programs statewide. Florida Atlantic started not with a bang but. with a whimper, drawing only students instead of the 2 000 they had predicted, and for the remainder of its first year the new university staggered to gain its equilibrium. FICUS as the extension program was called, had good rappGrt with Governor Farris Bryant (he had created it by executive order and made Dr. Myron Blee, his old friend, president of it), but the 1963 Legislature had trimmed its budgetary sails and demoted Blee to the title of director. Both FICUS and Florida Atlantic seemed destined to hold joint possession of the public hot seat for the year, and

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2 8 1 the University of South Florida relinquished it with obvious pleasure. The gubernatorial campaign dominated the fall, with Haydon Burns the odds-on favorite to beat his wildly swinging Republican opponent, Charles Holley of St. Petersburg. Burns won by a substantial margin, but in doing so he so frightened the, state's educational forces that even the ultra-conservative Holley often appeared preferable. The uneasy truce between university ,officials and politicians that had prevailed through most of 1964 had been shaken in July by an open clash between Board of Control member Charles Forman and Dr. Gordon Blackwell, president of Florida State and that incident was still fresh in the minds of the educators at election time. Forman had accused Blackwell and the university of fostering "an ultra-liberal climate" in which students were exposed to Communist influences and immorality. Blackwell denied the charges vigorously, and said Forman and the Board sometimes showed a lack of understanding of the basic purposes of the universities. Within a week after the public argument, Blackwell announced his resignation from the presidency to become president of Furman University in South Carolina. Though Blackwell denied his decision had been prompted by the clash with Forman, he nevertheless conceded that the state' s political climate was a factor he had weighed carefully. After his announcement and until his departure six months later, Blackwell was the center of a highlighted by the following:

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282 Secretary of State Tom Adams citing the "unhealthy climate for educational progress" in Florida, said administrativ e structure of the university-junior college system was "a horse and buggy relic of the past. He did not, however, suggest that part of the problem was the role played by the Board of Education, of which he was a member The press, again led by the St. Petersburg Times and the Tampa Tribune, spoke with editorial candor of the political strings that Blackwell had finally decided to break away from. -:!Governor Bryant, at a press conference, coyly hinted that he mlght be available as a successor to Blackwell, and took vigorous exception to Adams criticisms The press, by and large, sided with Adams and added a few other uncomplimentary remarks about Bryant's educational leadership. Dr George Baughman president of New College in Sarasota, said the pufulic and p r i ; v.ate colleges and universities o f Florida w ere all being damaged by political meddling in a& education. Several members of the Legislature, including Senators Ed Price of Bradenton and Emory Cross of Gainesville, added their criticisms of Bryant and the political climate to the fire. Former Gove rnor LeRoy C ollins, in a speech at Florida State, said the state should not tolerate continued p olitical interference in the .:xxx university system. Saying it was "time for fresh beginnings, Collins urged the universities of the state to search for truth without fear that the search "may offend someone in high authority.

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With Governor Bryantleducation record coming under increased attack, the prospect of.his departure from office would normally have been eagerly anticipated on the campuses of the universities. But Haydon Burns, in his campaign to replace Bryant, gave every indication that his tenure would be at least as disruptive.xx On three issues in particular, Burns exhibited a frightening tendency to shoot from hip, and his targets were among the most sensitive he could have chosen. Early in September, Burns said in a speech in north Florida that he was "astounded at the number of pinks and Communists on the campuses of higher learning in the.state,11 and he pledged to "get rid of them" if elected. When this intemperate and ill-considered charge brought quick and heavy criticism from the faqulties, the press and the public at large, Burns stumbled doggedly on. Two weeks later. he told an audience, "I don' t know what kind of day we're living in when the press .of this state attacks a candidate because he is against Communists or pinks. And he also noted that he was n o t the only person who thought a housecleaning was in order. "Dr. Charles R Forman of the Board of Control also thinks so, he said. When pressed for more specific information, Burns refused to name any persons he knew to be subversive, but he defined for a reporter his conception of a "pinko" as "anyone who doesn' t think and act like an American. Senator Scott Kelly, one of Burns' opponents in the Democratic primary, discarded his prior conservative stance to take Burns to task for his remarks. have worked too long and too hard in building our university system to allow intimidation and threats of political reprisal t o wreck our efforts, he said.

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By the end of October, after he had been b ooed in speeches at Florida State, assailed by the press and the AAUP, and even contradicted by Farris Bryant himself, Burns was ready to forget 284 the whole thing. "I only said that at Hawthorne (the small north Florida town where he had first made the charge), said Burns lamely. "I'm ho.peful the press will leave it alone.," And finally, on a visit to Hillsborough County, he said the press had misinterpreted him, and he was "drawing the curtain on the issue. The "pinks and Communists" charge died a slow death, but the other two issues Burns raised became planks in his platform, and he persisted in forcing them on the universities. One dealt with the long-disputed trimester system; the other concerned a proposed constitutional amendment to replace the Borrd of Control with a nine-man Board of Regents. Burn. s said he would, when elected, abolish the trimester system. The promise itself was well received by some within the university system who di'sliked it, but it was the method that unnerved the educators. In his campaign and later as governor, Burns did not bother with se'eking advice or bringing the uni versi ties themselves into discussion of a change in the calendar. He simply said it would be thrown out. On the regents issue, Burns and Bryant locked horns over how the new board would be appointed. When the amendment passed, Bryant announced his intention to name all nine new members and Burns promptly said he would fire them and name his own board.

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285 Neither of them had given strong support to the regents amendment before the election, but after it passed they both wanted to use it for political advantage. The change in name and number actually was little more than that---the 1963 Legislature had first passed and then rescinded a law giving the Board independent powers---but at least it was a step toward prevention of a governor' s domination through the appointive since the nine-year, staggered terms would be spread over three administrations. But implementation, according to the law, required the governor to name the first nine members, and a great dispute arose between Bryant and Burns which of them would have the honor. The two men quarreled for two months. Finally, in the last week of 1964---Bryant's last week in office---he ignored Burns' threat of a court suit and named all nine members of the new board. His picks were Baya Harrison, Wayne M cCall, John Pace, Gert Schmidt and Chester Whittle---all members of the outgoing Boar d of Control---and Payne Midyette, Robert Morgan, Marshall Criser and Sam Dell. Though the Cabinet Board of Education quickly confirmed the appointments, an incensed Haydon Burns said he would expect all of them to resign as soon as he took office. Since the board was part of the executive branch, he said, he fully expected it to be responsive to him as chief executive. Nevertheless, it remained only for the State Senate, at its April meeting, to ratify the appointments for them to be finally o fficial, and in the meantime the new regents would hold office. Somehow, the climax of Farris Bryant's four years in office seemed an apt illustration for his scrapbook as ringmaster of Florida's educational circus. So many ironies and contradictions

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286 dominated his tenure that even at the and it was hard to tell where he stood. More money had been spent on education during his term than in any four-year period in Florida's history, yet he left an educational establishment in many ways worse off than he had found it. Among his puzzling and conflicting actions had been these: While claiming to be the foremost "education" governor in Florida's history, he had flatly ignored or rejected out of hand the recommendations of the Brumbaugh Report in 1955 and the McDonald Report in 1963 concerning political interference in the operation of the universities, yet he had had a direct hand in the of both studies. As an out-and-out segregationist he had pledged that there would be no integration of schools in his administration, yet when the issue arose he quietly let a few Negroes into the universities (after personally screening their records), but he never publicly acknowledged their right to be there or backed down from his opposition to it. He tried to keep a pre-election pledge to saye the taxpayers $50 million by forcing the 1961 Legislature to hold the line on new taxes, then later put through two bond issues designed to help 'the schools catch up and gave himself credit for being far-sighted in this approach. In 1961 Bryant refused to use some $600 ,000 appropriated by the Legislature for faculty salary raises in the conversion to the trimester system, saying the money was not needed. ::His only direct venture into university affairs was not to defend but rather to fire Professor Thoma s J B Wenner from

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287 the University of South Florida---an act the end result of which was not justified by the means In his whole time in office he never once was critical of the Johns Committee, nor did he ever attempt to dissuade or impede the committee before, during or after its excesses. He said nothing when Johns gave his report on the University of s ,uth Florida to the Tampa Tribune before he himself had seen it; he personally engineered a $67,000 emergency appropriation to the committee at the height of its attack on the university; fie offered no encouragement or support to President Allen before or after his crucial speech to the 1963 Legislature; he twice permitted laws to pass extending the committee's life; and finally, he refused to comment on the infamous ho mosexual booklet that made the committee the laughing stock of the state He made predictably bad appointments to the Board of RH Control and then controlled his appointees to the extent that they went along with his dictates on new appointments, budgets and other vital matters He and h i s budget director forced an after-the-fact salary cut on a relative handful of professors in 1963 at the same time he was pushing his bond program for university construction. These are but a few of the questionable "accomplishments" of a governor who r epeatedly said his greatest contribution to the state had been in the field of education. As he bowed out members ( and Haydon Burns came on the scene, it was hard for the of Florida's greater university farriily to separate their joy from their despair.

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2 8 8 Governor Burns made good on most of his campaign threats. True to his word, he forced the Regents and the university presidents to nre_;evaluate" the trimester system, told the m to get rid of it, and then magnanimously said he would abide by their decision. By the end of July the presidents and the Board had followed a n intricate semantical journey that led to modification of the school calendar -Uu... ku 61 and abolition of the word ':trimester,". and t41-0 /) .. '11&8 ept=e. d fer :t A:e f8:ll of It was on the Board of Regents issue, however, that the new governor made unmistakably clear his domination of the university system. On his third day, he announced his intention to an "impartial" study of the trimester system made outside the Board of Regents, thus by-passing that body altogether. That plan drew criticism from the press and even from some of Burns' colleagues op the D abinet B o ard of Ed uc ation, so the governor turned elsewhere. On January 13, he announced that he haq asked the State Supreme Court to advise him whether Farris Bryant. s eleventh-hour appointments were binding on him. The new Regents, made unwelcome before their first meeting, meekly went about their business of organizing, electing Baya Harrison to continue the chairmanship he had held for the Board of Control. While most of the state's major newspapers, the university AAU P chapters and several members of the Legislature assailed Burns for seeking total control of the universities as a political lever, he seemed impervious to the criticism. The Tampa Tribune said in an editorial that if Burns were "truly interested in improving the educational system he wo ld not be engaged in attempting to tear down for patently political purposes,

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289 the very structure created by the Legislature and the voters to lift university administration above politics. On February 3 the State Supreme Court ruled that Burns could replace Bryant' s Regents with men of his own choosing. Clinging to a narrowly technical line of reasoning, the court said unanimously that the Bryant appointees were in effect only interim fill-ins until the governor named his the next Senate session and had them ratified by that body. The ruling clearly circumvented the intent of the 1963 Legislature, and left no doubt about Burns' authority to do as he chose. The Tribune noted that "for the present, there is only one check on Governor Burns' apparen t intention to make the Board of Regents his personal political creation. That is a of the State Board of Education, which must approve new Regents' appointmf3nts. When a rumor that the Bryant appointees would resign failed to materialize, it appeared that a months-long period of uncertain leadership was at hand. Even the Governor's blatant grab for power could not stir the Regents to defend themselves, and the university presidents, their local legislative delegations and even the faculties offered only fee.ble and inarticulate protest. Once again, as in countless times past, the persons with the most to lose left it to the press to fight their battles against the Governor's steel grip on education. Earl Faircloth, the new attorney general, called for more autonomy for the Regents but skirted around criticism of Burns' attacks. Secretary of State Tom Adams more outspoken, said the Court's reasoning was "totally beyond comprehension, and blasted Burns for pushing the issue to such a conclusion. He warned that

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290 such continued meddling would inevitably result in disaccreditatio n of the universities. The Tribune, hearing Faircloth and Adams noted hopefully that they and just one other member of the Board of Education could stop Burns in his tracks by refusing to confirm his new appointees to the Regents board. It was wishful thinking. On March 3 the lame-duck Regents resigned enmasse, and Burns could savor total victory. Before the end of March he had named his own board (including Wayne McCal l and John Pace, two of the least effective members of the old Board of Control), and the Cabinet Board of Education confirmed them without comment In thre e short months, Haydon Burns had confirmed the worst fears of his handling of university affairs. He went into the 1965 Legislature with firm control, and the Board he took with him, even if it had been independently inclined, would have been forced by inexperience to rely heavily on outside advice and guidance. The Legislature, at Burns' insistence, refused to increase taxes to meet a growing demand for new state services, particularly in education. Despite a pproval of another $75 million bond issue for construction, building needs of the burgeoning university and junior college system were not met, and operating funds appropriated to the institutions fell far short of requests (the University of South for example, was given about $16 mil'lion for the biennium, or some 36 per cent less that it had asked) On the positive side, the Legislature created a chancellor for the university system (the post subsequentl y went to Dr J Broward Culpepper executive directoT of the Board of Regents): and---. after two special extended sessions---reapportined itself under threat of a Federal court order. On the other hand, the same

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291 body left intact the complete control of the Board of Education and the Budget Commission over the Board of Regents, thus negating the chancellor action; its paltry operating appropriation cut deeply into faculty promotions, new positions, graduate programs and research at the University of South Florida, and the other universities also felt the pinch; and finally, it blithely gave authorization for creation of still more colleges and universities, ones faced an while the existing increasing shortage of funds to maintain quality operation even at their present levels. But one act of the Legislature---perhaps it is more accurate to call it a refusal to act---was, for the University of South Florida, an achievement unparalleled. No bill extending the life of the Johns Committee reached the floor of either house, and wit h the close of the session, the nine-year-old COI11I!J.!httee was dead. When the 1963 Legislature extended its life for another two years, there was transmitted to the committee membership an unofficial that the staff--particularly attorney Mark Hawes and investigator R J Strickland--would have to go. That was accomplished (over the objecti0n of Senator Charley Johns and Re presentative George Stallings), and the new chairman, Representative R 0 Nitchell set about to remake the committee's tarnished image. Right off the bat, they were in hot water again as a result of the celebrated "Purple Pamphlet, which staff director John Evans had written to warn the citizenry against homosexuality. Then, in a last-gasp effort to regain its power, committee made headlines in the fall of 1964 when its most extreme faction---Johns, Stallings and Republican S 'enator C W Young---tried to grab control.

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292 It was at the height of the presidential campaign between Lyndon B Johnson and Barry Goldwater. Stallings and Young, eager for a Goldwater victory, saw a chance to help bring it about when racial strife erupted in St. Augustine and Governor B ryant sent state troopers in to maintain order. With chairman Mitchell in the hospital, the committee---again led by Stallings, Johns and Young---met in secret and decided to hire an undercover a gent to to investigate Bryant's handling of the St. Augustine affair. John Evans then resigned from the conwittee staff in protest a_A_LL ( Evans was formerly Bryant's and chief Lawrence Rice went with him. In a six-page letter of resignation, Evans said the policies and procedures followed during Mitchell's absence "are at such variance with my own concepts and convictions that continued association with the committee would be untenable to me. Stalling s incensed at the exposure of his plan to probe the race issue, said in a statement that Evans was trying to keep the committee "from lifting the lid off the St. Augustine garbage can. Too many XN smelly things might come out of the governor's office and the highway patrol, he added. He charged the troopers with giving "all sorts of immunity to the Negroes and kicking hell out of the whites. 11 Stallings and Johns wanted badly to renew investigation of university campuses as well as XNE civil rights, but their plan was stalled by Evans' surprise move. Not the least of the ,ironies involved in the committee's newest excursion was its assault on Jbi segregationist Farris Bryant's race policies.

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293 After a week of behind-the-scenex maneuvering in which all efforts to restore order within the committee and between it and its staff faileg to produce results, Charley Johns himself resigned his committee post and that he not be replaced. .In a letter to Senate President Wilson Carraway, Johns said little could be accomplished without a staff in the few remaining months before the 1965 Legislature. He recommended that the committee *XNk "close the office, lock up the records and save the taxpayers of Florida the remainder of the $155 000 appropriation. Johns' unexpected resignation was followed by that of Senator Robert Williams, the committee's vice-chairman, and by Leo Foster, the attorney who had replaced Mark Hawes Foster was also chief counsel for the State Highway Patrol, which Johns, Stallings and Young had wanted to investigate in connection with the St. Augustine situation. Stallings and Young responding critically to the new resignations, insisted that the committee 1 s work proceed. The St. Petersburg Times pointed out in an editorial that "it is ironically f'itting that Senator Charley Johns---who is so much regarded as the father of the Florida Legislative Investigative Committee that hardly anyone knows it except by his name ---should also be the one to sound what is, hopefully, its death-knell. And the Miami News added, "We challeng e Senator Johns to recite a single worthwhile achievement of his committee in all the years past. He and his committeemen should have resigned before now It is to the everlasting discredit of Florida that such a sordid investigating group was allowed to exist so long. In mid-October, Cha rman Dick Mitchell returned from the hospital to meet with Stallings, Young and the other two remaining

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294 members of the committee They agreed not to resign until the Legislature had convened and they had filed the report required of them b y law. I n January, Mitchell said the Legislature should u discontinue the committee because of "the stigmas which have been attached t o i t During the legislative session, Mitchell, Stallings and Representative William Owens introduced bills DM.-)VI_ outlawing the Communist Party and regulating the appearance of outside speakers at the uni versi ties (the latter a sl'ickly worde d omnibus control proposal called "the academic freedom bill"), but both died in committee. In its final report, the committee tried once a gain to justify the infamous "Purple Pamphlet" and the aborted attempt to investigate r ,acial problems lim St. Augustine, but by then no one was listening Without dirge, eulogy or tears the Johns Committee was laid to rest. It was an anti-climatic--funeral that had cost the taxpayers half a million dollars. Jf n The University of South Florida's first five years of existence thus came to an end. Quantitative growth showed no signs of slackening: enrollment each year exceeded estimates, graduate studies were being rapidly added to the undergraduate foundation, was proceeding at a swift pace, a new 1 (pellct -tlu.. Uu. fAO;M1o.k_lUI1'Afu<{ fl(, Bay Campus in downtown St. added t& the plant, research was becoming an increasingly important phase of the educational program, and a variety of quasi-educational functions---short courses, conferences, workshops, adult stud y programs---was more and more in evidence. Furthermore, the University had survived five years without a football team, a national fraternity network, an ROTC program, a cheerleader

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295 squad, a marching band or a weekly beauty queen contest. It was, in many ways, a typical, traditional state university, yet it still retained at least some vestiges of newness and freshness .that helped to set it apart and give it some hope for future distinction. But the one missing ingredient was quality. Partly because of internal weaknesses of personnel and structure but primarily because of the shortcomings of the state system, the University of South Florida seemed, in 1965, an unlikely candidate for real leadership in higher education. In the state of Florida it was certainly holding its own---outshining the other new public higher education ventures such as FICUS and Florida Atlantic University, and gaining rapidly on the senior institutions---but its dream of \ recognition in the rest of the nation was unfulfilled. The University of South Florida, for all its hard-won local success, had become one of the nation's ordinary state universities, of which there are dozens. There are numerous reasons which might be attachedto this imbalance of qualitative and quantitative growth. Internally, the stultifying effect of the Johns Committee investigation was without question the principal factor. In countless ways that episode took its toll---victimized individuals, promising faculty members who left or never came fearfulness and timidity in those who stayed-and it is doubtful if the effects will ever be fully known or totally overcome. In large measure as a result of the neither J ohns Committee but for other reasons as well, the University's faculty nor its administration could truly be called either before or after the investigation, but the potential for

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296 distinction wa s far greater in 1960 and 1961 than it was in 1965 Sixty of the original 100 members of the charter faculty were still around to begin the second five years, as were 17 of the 23 top administrative officers, but their jdealism and innovativeness had not been sustained and the new men and women 1-vho joined them were, as a group, less impressive that the ones who had departed. The early general education, the approach, accent on learning and quality teaching had begun to disappear, and specialization, fragmentation, research and public a_ ,, service were on the ascendency. John s Allen began his ninth year as the University's president in a stronger position than he had enjoyed previously. Barring a recurrence of political upheaval such as the Johns Committee had brought about, he seemed certain to continue at the helm indefinitely. The president's .w.a:.:s. great strength was in his patience, which was typified by his reaction to kNR Governor Burns' :fNXE:.i.E.g insistence on naming own Board of Regents. "I don' t like the idea of a Board made up of nine Burns people, he told an associate "but you have to see the end of the rainbow. In a few years a governor will only be able to name four of the nine while he's in office. The transition will be painful, but this change still represents progress. With that kind of. stubborn persistence, Dr. Allen kept his eyes on the rainbow and simply outwaited his enemies and detractors. Said one appreciative faculty member: "You can't look around this place and not be impressed at what Dr. Allen has done. Despite all his faults, the very presence of this place is xxXK:fRxxtiNNXNf a symbol of his victory over political control.

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297 It would perhaps be more accurate to say that the University of South Florida in 1965 was as good as it could have been, and Dr. Allen wa s as good a president as he could have been and still remain president. The University in fact had not won a victory over political control, unless survival could be called a victory ___ alone is not enough. University of California President Clark Kerr, whose own institution's much-publicized troubles in 1964 had shaken its very foundations, once wrote Xkxx t hat a v president must be a mediator, seeking coexistence and peace among students, faculty and administration within the institution alumni, trustees and society in general out side it. In seeking this peace, he said, "There are some things that should n o t be compromised, like freedom and quality---then the mediator needs to become. a gladiator.11 John Allen was not a mediator, and when the chips were down, he was not a gladiator. But Florida's politically oriented system of higaer education did not encourage mediators or condone gladiators, nor, for that i freedom of matter, did it welcome innovators. Considering the l;_KK:kx:tN.:a I "' 1 the Legislature create new institutions at will, of the budget director to exercise control over salaries, of the governor to dictate such things as the calendar of Board of Education to reverse policy decision5of the Board of Regents, 111 and of the Regents themselvesJ\impose the most minute sort of procedural directives on the institutions, Dr. Allen and the other \were/ presidents of the state's universitiesXRB actually bette r than the systerq/ In 1957 the Board of Control recommended to the Board of Education that Dr. Allen be offered an annual salary of

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298 $17,500 to accept the presidency of the University of South Florida (the Cabinet balked at the figure) In 1965---eight years later--Allen was mxkng being paid $18,200, representing an increase of $700 over the amount first mentioned for the job. Both the salary and the rate of increase we r e indicative of the low regard Florida's public officials held for t heir public education program. In 1965 Florida wa. s one of only two states in the nation in which the governing board for higher education could have its university salary decisions overruled by another state agency; it was one of only 19 states where pre-audit of institutional wa:s1 expenditures permissible; it was one o f only eight states where an agency other than the governing board could alter the number of positions in a university budget or disapprove an o perating budget altogether; it was one of only 12 states in which an agency other than the governing board had the right to withhold funds appropriated by the legislature. While Florida appeared on the surface to be far ahead of most states in coordination of its institutional programs and in development o f new institutions, at closer range its faults stood out like sores. The official state line, first voiced by Farris Bryant and then taken up by Haydon Burns, was that progress was everywhere and Florida was challenging the nation's leaders in education. Except for an occasional dissent NN from the Cabinet Board of Education and the parting words of men like Florida State University's Blackwell, no exceptions were made to this tale of growth and success; the ERgxi:st N F R members of the Legislature voiced little interest or concern, the Board of Regents and the Chancellor's office and the university presidents showed no inclination toward

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299 candor or' outspokenness, the faculties seldom were stirred to question unless some specific issue impinged upon their personal liberties. As had been the cas e so frequently in the past, the .. most articulate and forthright expressions of concern about Florida education were found in the newspapers. mKxkkE writer St. Petersburg Times Sam Mase, who had reported o n the higher education scene since the Report days of 1955 said in a series of article s before the 1965 Legislative session that the state university system was hovering on the brink of mediocrity. He mentioned inadequate financing, pork-barrel proliferation of new institutions, political intrusions, and antequated operational procedures as among the more debilitating shackles o n the institutions. Editorially, the Times and the Tampa Tribune continued their informed criticisms of the universities and their governance, as, to a lesser extent, did the Miami News the Miami Herald, the Daytona Beach Ne w s-Journal and a few other papers. What the faculties, the presidents, the regents and the legislators would not say---some because of fear, other' s b ecause of unconcern---the newspapers said for them. Back in 1960 when the University of South Florida was just coming into being, a Midwestern educator named M M Chambers wrote a little book called "The Campus and the People. In it, he made this statement: "If decisions in university administration are all to be siphoned off to the statehouse, then we shall have no further need for institutional governing boards e xeept for ceremonial purposes, and presidents and deans can become civil service clerks. What sort of university would we have then? I leave the answer to you.

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The University of South F lorida in 1965 was rapidly becoming the sort o f university Dr. Chambers described. Along with its siste r institutions, old and new, good and hot )so good, it wa s becoming what Florida's g overnor and its cabinet w anted to make of it---just another agency of government, subject to the vagaries of politics. The University of South Florida, without help from the university system or the state government, had survived the assault of the Johns C ommittee, and had lived to witness with satisfaction the death o f that committee. But it had paid an its exorbitant price for victory ; it had sacrificed its hope for freedom and quality i n order to survive. Perhaps in some future time, under a new governor and a new Legislature and a new Cabinet and a new Board of Regents, it will re-discover its potential. At mid-1965, 10 years after its seed was planted and five years after it came to l i f e the University stood on a plateau, clinging with pride to its record o f growth and longing nostalgically for the d ream of eminence it had held so briefly and then l ost, perhaps forever. end