Published:
April 16, 1999
Feature 3 in a series of 3
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Black students' frustration with University intensified in year preceding takeover
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By Seth Appel and Ken Meyer |
The takeover of Willard Straight Hall on April 19, 1969 was the culmination of a series of efforts by black students to assert their presence at Cornell. In the fall of 1969, a trustee committee investigating campus unrest concluded that throughout the 1960s, the University "failed to address itself to the special needs of the black students on campus." Ithaca had no black community to which they could relate, the committee noted, and Cornell had never fostered their acclimation. Seventy-seven years after the first black student graduated, black women could not find suitable shades of makeup in the Campus Store. Moreover, black students were still not convinced Cornell offered an education relevant to their experience.
Fewer than 20 black students attended Cornell in October 1963 when James A. Perkins was inaugurated as the University's seventh president. The liberal-minded Perkins, formerly chairman of the Board of Trustees of the United Negro College Fund, successfully expanded the African-American enrollment to over 200 by 1969.
But as the number of blacks on campus increased, so did racial hostility. The president recalled in 1977, "The administration underestimated the hostility of white students to the presence of black students [and] ... the militancy of black students and their desire to lead separate lives."
Black students formed the Afro-American Society in 1966 to develop programs for improving the "social, economic and psychological conditions that blight the lives" of African-Americans at Cornell. All blacks could join the society but whites needed special approval.
In compliance with a state law prohibiting segregated dormitories, the University generally housed its new black students with whites, creating a racially tense environment.
Consequently, in February 1968, black males established Elmwood House, an all-black co-op. AAS insisted that the administration also create a black women's co-op because of the "intolerably hostile atmosphere in the dorms."
The administration accepted the society's demand and purchased 208 Dearborn Pl. as Wari House co-op. But black students' discomfort went beyond living arrangements.
In March 1968, visiting economics lecturer Michael McPhelin's allegedly bigoted lectures exposed racial tensions in the classroom. On the first day of class, McPhelin asserted to the dismay of AAS that "economic development is a product of Western civilization."
His March 19 lecture on urban poverty created more discontent, followed by direct action. McPhelin stated, "[G]hetto children are without fair opportunity ... their games are sickly and perverted. ... Slums produce young people inclined toward crime and violence ... there are no pleasures except those satisfying baser tastes."
AAS members complained to several members of the administration about McPhelin's remarks. They felt themselves the victims of a racist institution when Prof. Thomas E. Davis, chair of the economics department, refused to take any action.
The next class, on April 4, AAS President Marshall John Garner '70 insisted on expressing his objections to McPhelin's lectures. The professor tried to drown him out by calling on the class to sing "The Star-Spangled Banner" and finally dismissed the class before Garner finished.
Forty AAS members went directly to Davis' office in Goldwin Smith Hall and declared, "The economics department is temporarily closed." They barricaded themselves and Davis in the office, eventually allowing 20 more society members to enter but refusing to admit campus security.
After four hours, AAS finally agreed to negotiate. The administration allowed the group to present its opinions at McPhelin's next class.
The conflict was resolved superficially; in following weeks, McPhelin and others heavily edited their lectures to avoid addressing racial issues.
According to Prof. George M. Kahin, government, professors were surrendering their academic freedom. "Self-censorship of lectures and writings is taking place at Cornell now," he lamented.
Furthermore, faculty reported AAS members sitting in on their classes, searching for comments to call racist and heckling professors.
During the spring of 1968, African-American students began voicing their demands for a black studies program as was being considered at Yale and Harvard universities. They argued that white racism biased traditional approaches to history and the social sciences.
By the fall, Perkins established the Afro-American Studies Advisory Committee, which included eight black students and nine faculty members and administrators. Robert W. Purcell '32, chairman of the Board of Trustees, donated $1 million to support minority education programs.
Also that fall, the University offered courses that intended to explain the black life, including "Economic Development of the Urban Ghetto" and "Literature of the Negro Experience."
Perkins proudly asserted, "The new initiative puts Cornell's efforts in the field of improving race relations considerably in advance of any university that I know."
Many black students, however, remained dissatisfied. They found the new courses irrelevant, and as one AAS member explained, "We never had any kind of absolute power on the Committee."
In November, Cornell representatives attended a conference on the black university at Howard University. One speaker noted, "Black students' needs can never be satisfactorily met within the framework of basically white-oriented institutions."
The Cornell delegation returned to Ithaca calling for an autonomous black college.
On Dec. 6, six blacks stormed into 320 Wait Ave., the building slated to house the Afro-American Studies Program, and forced a professor and two secretaries, all white, to leave. The black students then posted a note on the door proclaiming that the building was now restricted to members of the "Afro-American Institute."
On Dec. 9, the "Operating Committee of the Afro-American Institute" submitted to the administration a "non-negotiable" demand for an autonomous college, which would be funded by the University but administered by black students. The proposed college would open in February and require a $250,000 minimum budget.
The blacks also insisted on exclusive use of the Elmhirst Room in the Straight and a black psychiatrist for Gannett Clinic.
Three days later, Perkins announced that creating an all-black college was "impossible," but he said he would try to hire a black psychiatrist and to look for an all-black dining area.
A Sun editorial observed, "[T]he black view and the white view of the place of the black in the predominantly-white academic community fail to coincide. To what degree they can ever coincide is the question."
The biggest protest yet occurred on the afternoon of Dec. 12, and its resolution became central to the dramatic events of April 1969.
Black students marched into Day Hall and flipped over a sand-filled waste basket. They overturned two candy machines and a fire extinguisher, in addition to banging on classroom and office doors in Goldwin Smith.
They proceeded to the Elmhirst Room, brandishing toy guns and demanding in vain to be served. Then, outside the Straight, they waved the guns at passersby and pounded on cars.
That night, AAS issued a statement reaffirming their goal: "We persist in our original demand for a black college."
The weekend was marked with similar demonstrations, which altogether involved nearly 100 of the University's 250 black students.
On Dec. 13, protesters barged into Perkins' office, blocked the door, banged on bongo drums and read a play. They furiously flipped over a cart full of rolls and milk that the president provided for them.
Then they went to Gannett and demanded appointments with a non-existent black psychiatrist.
The blacks marched on to the Ivy Room, playing musical instruments and chanting "ungawa" and "Black Power." Thirty blacks danced on tables, disrupting students' meals.
Finally, the mob stormed Olin, Uris and Catherwood libraries and dumped about 3,000 books on the circulation desks, proclaiming, "These books have no relevance to me as a black student."
The following night, six blacks interrupted play at the men's basketball game, sitting down on the court and beating bongo drums.
Perkins gave a press conference to address the incidents and growing racial tension. The president said he was hesitant to condemn black protesters as long as they remained peaceful.
Perkins admitted he was "extremely reluctant" to establish an all-black college but was "not finally opposed to the idea." Many professors criticized what they considered to be the President's weak stance.
The University eventually charged four students with harassment for the Dec. 12 disruptions. It also charged three students with stealing sofa cushions from Mary Donlon Hall and taking them to AAS headquarters on Jan. 20.
The Student Faculty Board on Student Conduct, comprised of five white students and four white professors, met on Feb. 13 to hear the charges, but the defendants refused to show up.
No University body could fairly judge "political acts" against the University, according to an AAS statement.
Moreover, AAS accused the SFBSC of being a racist committee because it consisted of all whites. (Society spokesperson Thomas W. Jones '69 would have been chairman of the Board had he not quit the previous year.)
The SFBSC temporarily adjourned the hearing, and before the committee met again another controversial issue flared.
For years, students had objected in vain to Cornell's investments in banks that loaned money to South Africa, indirectly supporting apartheid.
A symposium on South Africa brought 800 students to the Statler Auditorium on Feb. 28. AAS member Eric D. Evans '69 began the meeting by criticizing the University's investments. "We deal with Perkins," he boomed. "If he don't deal with us, we do our thing."
Perkins reluctantly ascended the podium, attempting both to defend the investments and to show sympathy for the protesters. "We're not pulling out right now," he said, "but don't worry, we're not putting more money in until we investigate."
Dissatisfied with this explanation, Gary S. Patton '71 joined Perkins on the stage and lifted him by the collar. Larry Dickson '70 stood nearby, threatening Perkins with a wooden two-by-four, while audience members beat bongo drums that the University had recently purchased to promote black culture.
When Patton tried to address the crowd he was drowned out by drumming and boos. Perkins ultimately went home escorted by a Safety Division officer.
As AAS continued to condemn the Cornell judicial system, the SFBSC announced that if the students who disrupted campus did not appear for a rescheduled hearing on March 13, they would be suspended indefinitely.
Students for a Democratic Society passed a resolution supporting the AAS position, while 600 faculty members voted on March 12 to affirm the legitimacy of the SFBSC.
Steadfast, the defendants again refused to appear. Instead, 150 AAS members appeared to restate the organization's views, forcing the SFBSC to postpone the hearing again.
Violence was becoming increasingly commonplace on college campuses, such as an incident at Harvard on April 10, when 400 club-wielding, mace-spraying police officers quelled a riot of students protesting the ROTC program. The Cornell community was relieved that it had so far escaped such bloodshed, Prof. Richard Polenberg, history, recalled.
On April 10, the Board of Trustees voted to form a Center for Afro-American Studies in accordance with Perkins' recommendation. The center would have a $240,000 budget for its first year of operation and James E. Turner, a Ph.D. candidate at Northwestern University where he had led a building takeover, would probably be its first director.
On April 17, the defendants again refused to attend their hearing, but the students informed the Faculty Committee on Student Affairs that the SFBSC could administer a punishment in their absence. The FCSA in turn relayed this information to the judicial board.
A six-and-a-half hour meeting concluded early in the morning on April 18 with the SFBSC's decision to issue letters of reprimand to the parents and deans of three students guilty of harassment for the Dec. 12 protests.
"Physical harassment of persons, destruction of property and disruption of the University community, regardless of mitigating circumstances, cannot be tolerated," the Board announced.
It did not levy any punishments on the students charged with stealing sofa cushions.
Although the most mild of penalties was meted out, AAS was furious and called an emergency meeting.
That night, only hours away from Parents Weekend, a mysterious burning cross outside Wari House ignited racial tension. The Ithaca Police Department extinguished the flames but never discovered its origins.
Black students blamed whites, and white students likewise blamed blacks. A Cornell administrator called the cross-burning a "Reichstag Fire," alluding to a fire that Nazis set at German Parliament in 1933 and Hitler used to justify taking power.
The night also included numerous unexplained fire alarms throughout campus dormitories, both before and after the cross-burning.
An infuriated AAS, divided between radical and moderate factions, held a long meeting Friday afternoon to plan their retaliation.
As parents massed into Ithaca, the University was a powder keg.
"An explosion was inevitable," Provost Dale R. Corson later recalled. "I remember telling [a colleague], `I don't know what's going to happen, but something is going to happen, and it's going to happen soon.' "
For an account of the events that followed, see the supplement Beyond the Crisis: The Willard Straight Takeover 1969-1999, to appear in Monday's Sun.
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