The Miracle of Malcolm XAuthor(s): Sharon JohnsonSource: Change, Vol. 3, No. 3 (May - Jun., 1971), pp. 18-21Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40161278 .

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review Harvard policy after the strike of 1969, included the investment question as a part of a more comprehensive deliberation on the university's financing.

Reports from both committees have been published in recent weeks, and each group admitted that the investment issue is full of difficult questions: Can the university learn

enough about the net social impact of scores of potential investments to make informed judgments? Can 15,000 students, 5,000 faculty members and 150,000 alumni ever reach agreement on what stocks to buy or avoid and how to vote in a proxy fight like Campaign GM? Can a university with a direct impact on the housing supply in Cambridge and Boston rightfully stay out of the low-income housing field on the grounds that it is not profitable? Should the

university wait for Ralph Nader to take the lead in

challenging corporate practice or act on its own initiative? Should it join other universities and foundations in such moves? Should the university- given its financial condition risk alienating alumni and corporate donors by awarding or denying its version of the Good Housekeeping Seal?

The Austin committee did not develop any magic formula to apply across the board to the university's decisions on buying new shares or voting those it already owns. "Rough rules of thumb might evolve with experi- ence," the committee said. "But for the immediate future we see no escape from the necessity of making decisions ad hoc. " The group did provide some suggestions, however, in areas where there seemed least room for argument. The committee said that in making new investments the

university generally should strive for "maximum return" because of the sheer necessity of raising as much money as

possible to defray rising costs. But there are exceptions, the committee said, where "moral factors" take precedence: Harvard does have an obligation to invest in projects that benefit its immediate neighborhood, and it should avoid stock in tobacco- companies, South African corporations and firms that practice "racial and other invidious forms of discrimination."

There is no need for the university to buy stock in a

company with an eye to reforming its management, the committee said, but in those firms where it already owns shares it "need not remain passive in the face of substantial evidence that the company is acting in an antisocial way." The university should not take the lead in soliciting proxies in favor of a given policy nor should it join with other

tax-exempt institutions in such moves, but it might vote its stock "on occasion in favor of change for the symbolic effect. . ." Because of the difficulty of reaching collective decisions, the committee urged appointment of a single university officer who would invite suggestions from the Harvard community on the social aspects of investment

policy and seek out investments that might be both

profitable and socially beneficial. Left unanswered was how to deal with cases where

"investment purity" is less clear-cut than in the case of South African firms. What, for example, should a university

do about investing in a corporation that does business in South Africa, has a good race relations record at home and whose founder has just contributed several million dollars to a fund drive?

Because the Austin committee provided no guidance on questions like this, many students who read the report felt it was not worth arguing much about. The Harvard Crimson, noting that the investment issue is clouded with

complexity, said bluntly: "The committee chose to leave the clouds undisturbed." Then, too, the atmosphere at Harvard has cooled as much as elsewhere, so when the

report came out in early March there was little of the heated debate that characterized discussions about Cam-

paign GM a year earlier- no letters to the alumni magazine, no organized student debates, no faculty endorsement, no

Corporation announcement of changes in policy, no com- mitments from the university's new president, Derek Bok.

Probably the first test of whether the report has had any impact will be the Corporation's reaction should Campaign GM, which is organizing a second drive this year, mount another serious campaign on the campus.

Both committees- Austin's group and the Committee on Governance acknowledged that their effort had pro- duced a compromise that was not likely to satisfy everyone. "Certainly (this) paper will fail to satisfy those few who believe that the best thing Harvard could do with its endowment would be to give it away to poor people, and the next best, to dump it in the Charles on the ground that Harvard is a servant of evil in an evil society and the sooner it goes out of business, the better," said the Committee on Governance. But it might be added, that both reports will likewise fail to satisfy those who believe that the responsi- bility of universities in corporate conduct includes nothing more than picking up dividend checks.

- Larry Van Dyne

The Miracle of Malcolm X

As colleges and universities across the country struggle to make their institutions relevant to black students, Chicago's Malcolm X College is proving that the black community can be educated without a massive influx in funds and staff.

Although only two years old, Malcolm X has given hope to thousands of black students who have never experienced anything but failure and frustration in the city's iethargic school system and has become the spearhead of the downtrodden West Side community's attempt to rebuild itself. It has worked these miracles in spite of dilapidated quarters, a well-entrenched teachers' union that has resisted

change, and quarrels with the city's educational and

political establishment over charges that it had become a black power training school.

Larry Van Dyne is an education writer for the Boston Globe.

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Until 1969, Malcolm X College was known as Crane

College, the oldest junior college in the city. Crane's

prestige fell after World War II when the Jews abandoned the West Side for suburbia, and blacks, many of them newcomers from the rural South, replaced them. The

college was housed in a few dismal rooms in Crane High School, a sagging building with boarded-up windows and

peeling paint. Although foreign language courses and

second-year science and mathematics courses were required for transfer to four-year institutions in the Chicago area, none were offered here. Most of the students were 25 to 30

years old and had spent as long as five years trying to get a

two-year degree. In 1968, only 15 of the 1,000 students

completed their year of study. Much of the credit for transforming the college from a

dead-end school into a vital institution must be given to Dr. Charles Hurst, president of the college, who accepted the

$25,000-a-year post in 1969. Hurst came to Chicago from Howard University where he was dean of speech and director of the university's communication science research center. Before earning a doctorate in speech at Wayne State

University, Hurst had been a high school dropout, ditch

digger, railroad laborer and crane operator, and had served a

jail sentence in North Carolina for possession of untaxed

liquor. One of Dr. Hurst's first acts was to move the college

out of the high school and into two equally dismal

buildings that had been abandoned by other schools. Artistic students decorated the buildings on the theme of black pride and soon paintings of old slaves in chains, por- traits of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King and drawings of disheartened ghetto children covered the walls. The sight unsettled Chicagoans long accustomed to seeing stark white walls throughout the city school system.

The exodus of white faculty proved equally unsettling. Eleven white faculty members were transferred to other

campuses in the Chicago City College system during the first six months of Dr. Hurst's term. By the end of the academic year, 60 teachers- half the faculty- had left the

college. The exodus left the impression in the minds of

many of the remaining white teachers that they were unwelcome at Malcolm X.

"Many of us are sympathetic to what they are doing at Malcolm X, but we wonder how we would be accepted by the black faculty members and students," said a white

University of Chicago graduate who teaches in another

junior college. The friction between the white educational establish-

ment of the city and the evolving black coalition at the

college simmered over the departure of white teachers and

finally exploded into a confrontation over the change of name from Crane, honoring a white manufacturer of

plumbing fixtures, to Malcolm X, a black civil rights leader. A committee of students and community leaders had selected Malcolm X. The Chicago Junior College Board refused to accept the name of Malcolm X and hired a

market research corporation to find out what name the community wanted. The survey showed that Booker T. Washington was the choice of the community. The junior college board disliked the finding and appointed a commit- tee to make a final selection from a list of eight names -

four proposed by the college board and four proposed by the college and community. Malcolm X was the final choice.

"It was fortunate that the junior college board tried to stop the change of name because it brought the community together," said Dr. Hurst. "It gave me the support I needed to make other changes."

The confrontation also gave Dr. Hurst the autonomy he needed to make changes in curriculum and philosophy. Urban survival courses such as issues in law enforcement and problems of education in major urban centers were added to the curriculum. A black studies institute began offering courses ranging from remnants of African culture to post-1865 Afro- American history.

One of the biggest changes was the revision of the grading system. Failure grades were eliminated. To get a C or better, students must fulfill a series of "behavior objectives" formulated by the student and teacher. The more behavior objectives fulfilled, the higher the grade. If students don't attend class, they are not dropped. They are retired temporarily from the class roll while the teachers and other staff members continue to work with them and try to develop their self-confidence and capabilities so that they will be able to complete the courses.

"For the first time in my life, I didn't have the fear of flunking out hanging over my head," said a girl who had dropped out of high school rather than face a failing grade. "I learned a lot more from my courses, too."

The faculty had a harder time than the students in adjusting to the new grading system. Many of them opposed the change because they said it made the students less accountable for their actions and put teachers on the defensive. Some left the college.

Other changes, such as the elimination of remedial courses, the development of a learning skills center, and the granting of credit for life experiences have proven contro- versial.

"Remedial courses are very demeaning to the student and have been used to confirm the racist educational system," said Dr. Hurst. "We are trying to introduce a new view of potential at Malcolm X. We say that it is more important to look at where a student can go than where he has come from."

The learning skills center implements this philosophy by offering intensive tutoring for students who have difficulty with regular class work.

The center operates on the philosophy that all students can be helped if only given enough time. This philosophy is especially helpful in teaching English to college freshmen who attended Chicago high schools. The average graduate of an inner city high school in Chicago stands more than

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three years behind the national average in English. To get credit for English 101, a student works until he passes-for eight weeks or two years. Attrition has been one of the

problems of the center. During the first year, the center lost 50 percent of its students. The rate has now decreased to 20 percent, primarily because of peer pressure.

"Kids just aren't used to that kind of freedom," a

sophomore explained. "They're used to the traditional

approach where the teacher browbeats you into writing all kinds of themes. The kids who have kept up with the

English classes are telling the others all the good they got out of them so the others are starting to go again."

Flexibility also is offered in the granting of credit for life experiences. Students have received credit for teaching themselves accounting, working on newspapers, and

operating small businesses. The West Side of Chicago is one of the most forlorn,

improvised and undereducated parts of the city. Malcolm X

College has tried to alleviate these community conditions

by offering a wide variety of programs that will prepare graduates for entry jobs in technical fields. Courses in inhalation therapy, medical laboratory techniques, medical

transcription, and other allied health fields are offered.

Two-year, semi-professional programs in accounting and

computing, art and advertising display, graphic arts, plant engineering, and nursing have been started. For those who cannot attend classes during regular school hours, the

college sponsors week-end classes. Students from 16 to 60 attend classes ranging from typing to electronics. Many of these courses are taught by volunteer professionals.

White establishment support of the college has been slow in coming. After the death of Black Panther leader Fred Hampton - a Malcolm X student - in a raid by police, there was an outcry for the ouster of Dr. Hurst and a tighter rein on the college. Dr. Hurst supported the Black Panthers' story of the death of Hampton, and said at a memorial service that he would train a black army to fight for Hampton's ideals and objectives. Shortly thereafter, the

junior college board held an executive session and discussed

firing Dr. Hurst. Insiders say that only the large number of

petitions from the black community and broad concern over a possible bloodbath in the West Side community saved the young administrator his job.

"The media missed the metaphor," said Dr. Hurst. "No

one bothered to ask me what I mean by 'army' because the

Chicago power structure thought I would train people to run around with pistols. What I needed then and now is an

army of black professionals who can rebuild the black

community's sense of commitment. The black community needs physicians, teachers, and others to develop its resources."

Because of the controversy over Fred Hampton's death, many Chicagoans believe that Malcolm X is a school

that teaches hatred of white people. Although all the

students are devoted to a program of uplifting the black

community through individual vocational efforts, their

politics run the gamut just as they do on any college campus. Like most college students, they voice opposition to the Vietnam war, concern about the environment, and

support of programs to upgrade the cities. Moreover, since they have never had vacations in

Europe, or any of the other benefits that a well-paying job brings, Malcolm X students are more willing to give the business world a chance than many white students their age. Almost every student I met had a vacation in mind and spoke of what he planned to do when he

graduated. "Let's face it," one girl said. "Most of these people have

been drop-outs all their lives. Now they have a chance to make something of themselves and they aren't going to do

anything to mess it up." The teachers were equally committed. "The Chicago

Board of Education kept sending me to Stanford and other schools to learn new teaching techniques," said Mrs. Verda

Beach, dean of learning and instructional resources, who

taught in the Chicago elementary school system for 14

years before joining the Malcolm X faculty. "They gave me lots in input, but never any chance for output. I've found

challenge here." Malcolm X College faces numerous challenges in the

coming years. It recently moved into a $26 million campus. Next fall it will have 6,500 students, and at capacity the school will house 10,000. What effect the influx of large numbers of students will have on the school is yet to be determined. Not only will the student body enlarge in

numbers, but it also may alter in racial composition. Malcolm X plans to undertake a special recruitment

program to attract Spanish-speaking students. In the past, few Spanish- speaking students have attended the city's junior colleges. The school also expects white enrollment to increase. But Dr. Hurst observes, "The student body is committed to the concept that this will remain a predom- inantly black school and has formed a committee to recruit blacks."

The college also faces financial problems. In spite of its many innovative programs, it has not received much federal aid. In 1970-71, it received $86,000 in National Defense state loan allocations and $228,000 in equal opportunity grant funds, sums hardly unusual for a Chicago junior college. Many of the funds for innovative programs and new equipment and supplies have come from Dr. Hurst's manipulation of the budget. Last year the college spent $1.1 million for books and supplies because he eliminated numerous full-time salaries to part-time faculty members.

Another challenge facing Malcolm X is accreditation. Malcolm X is now accredited as Crane. This spring it will be visited by an accrediting team of inspectors from the North Central Regional Accrediting Association. Will the in-

spectors react favorably to such courses as "institutional

racism" or the school's police training program or the

teaching of Swahili? Dr. Hurst is confident that the

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inspectors will accredit Malcolm X. The ultimate question, however, is how Malcolm X

College graduates do in four-year institutions. The first class that will have spent two full years in the college will

graduate in June. Many of them plan to continue their

education at four-year colleges in the Chicago area. To ease the transition, Malcolm X college officials have met with

officials of the Chicago Circle campus of the University of Illinois and other institutions to discuss the students' needs.

To better prepare future students for such transitions, Malcolm X and Chicago Circle recently entered into an

agreement that will permit freshmen in engineering and other technical curricula to register concurrently on the two campuses.

Malcolm X hopes that many of the courses and

philosophies of educating black students will be adopted by other schools, and that Malcolm X College will become a

prototype for other institutions. If it does, it might be a crucial change for Chicago, urban education, and perhaps even the races.

-Sharon Johnson

Associate Professor of Maoism

Although the San Francisco Bay area is almost universally pictured as the storm center of academic activism, Stanford

University has contributed relatively little to that image. This is not because Palo Alto has been a sea of tranquility, but because the loud confrontations there have often been drowned out by real explosions at nearby Berkeley and San Francisco State College. If close observers of the troubles of academia are right, however, in holding that the emphasis nearly everywhere is slowly shifting from student discipline to faculty discipline, Stanford can now be considered the leader of the vanguard. Recent events at Stanford place a powerful focus on central questions about faculty and institutions, including whether the actions outside the classroom of a self-professed revolutionary should be considered relevant to his regular duties-and thus subject to the kinds of questions that may be asked about his classroom performance and scholarship.

Stanford has seldom asked any questions at all about its tenured professors. Like most universities, its policies are marked by what the President's Commission on Campus Unrest termed "reluctance to enforce codes of behavior other than those governing scholarship" and by the

assumption that "a minimum of regulation would lead to a maximum of freedom." That puts a sharp point on President Richard Lyman's suspension of an associate

professor of English, H. Bruce Franklin, for his part in a

campus confrontation. Lyman has informed Franklin that

Sharon Johnson is a Chicago freelance writer.

he faces possible dismissal and has obtained a preliminary injunction barring him and some of his supporters from the Stanford campus. In the academic world, such actions seem

breathtakingly decisive, but summarizing them that way obscures the lessons they may teach as well as the tortuous

path by which they were reached.

Franklin, 36 years old, is a fairly recent convert to revolution. The son of a poor family in Brooklyn, he went to work at 14 to help support his family. He attended Amherst on a scholarship and was graduated magna cum laude in 1955. After working briefly as a tugboat mate in New York harbor, Franklin served as a navigation and

intelligence officer in the Strategic Air Command. Then he went to Stanford for graduate work, earned his PhD. in 1961, and immediately became an assistant professor of English. He went to Johns Hopkins in 1964, but the Stanford Department of English thought so highly of him that Franklin was lured back with a promise of promotion. He was a Melville scholar, and the documents supporting the promotion cite his "unusual intellectual drive" and say that his many publications "show evidence of his originality and ingenuity." He was made an associate professor with tenure.

Until that time, Franklin had been a fairly conventional academician. He has described himself as a "Stevenson liberal" during his term as a SAC officer. His year at Johns Hopkins coincided with the 1964 Presidential election, and Franklin was a precinct captain in Baltimore for Lyndon Johnson. But not long after his return to Stanford, Franklin made it clear that his belief s-or at least his way of expressing them- were changing rapidly. In March 1966, he and about 70 others opposed to the Vietnam War were on hand to protest when the port commission of Redwood City, near Stanford, began consideration of leasing 2.1 acres to the United Technology Center for a napalm plant. When Franklin spoke vehemently and at length in opposition, he was gaveled down and eventually removed by force from the meeting. During the ensuing confusion, the port commissioners voted quickly to grant the lease. Hearing of the decision, Franklin raced back and shouted into the microphone: "This is what America has come to! This is our democracy!"

But Franklin did not become a genuine revolutionary until he went abroad several months later to teach at the Stanford campus in France. Reading Marxist literature and talking to Vietnamese Communists visiting in France, he has said, helped persuade him of the Tightness and inevitability of the people's revolution. He and his wife, Jane, established a Marxist-Leninist study group in a "free university" in Paris. They returned to Stanford in 1967 as fervent Maoists. Franklin has led many confrontations and demonstrations since then, has been arrested several times, and in 1969 was barred from the campus of the nearby College of San Mateo.

The climactic events at Stanford began on Jan. 11

CHANGE/May-June 1971 21

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