Swarthmore College Alumni Bulletin 1990-02-01

nlege Bmletin

•

February 1990

I

D O WE
UNDERSTAND
THEJAPANESE?
S O L A R S

«

IN BASEBALL

The turntable world of Hip Hop culture
arrives from Spanish H^pliif (page 16).

“For the
world to
survive,”
observed Dr. William
Sloane Coffin, “it must
hold fast to three things:
truth, justice, and peace.
But the world has not
held to these things with
anything approaching a
white-knuckle grip.”
Dr. Coffin, president of
SANE/FREEZE, the
Campaign for Global
Security, addressed a full
audience in Friends
Meeting House on Dec.
10 to begin celebrating
the 60th anniversary of
the Swarthmore College
Peace Collection. The
Peace Collection, initiated
in 1930 by Jane Addams,
gathers and preserves for
scholarly research the
material of individuals
and organizations who
have worked for non­
violent social change,
disarmament, and conflict
resolution between
peoples and nations.

COLLEGE BULLETIN • FEBRUARY 1990

2
Just for the Good of It
The compelling pro bono efforts o f Marshall Beil ’67 and Arthur
Block 70, among other attorneys, may help preserve and enhance
our most fundamental constitutional freedoms.
By R

oger

W

il l ia m s

7
Dressing the Part in the 20th Century
Chronicler o f fashion Richard Martin '67 presents a visual history
o f the way men dress in our time.
By N

ancy

C

urran

12
Unacknowledged Differences
The Japanese are scrupulously fa ir in their business practices—
but some say not by Western terms. Can the two nations recognize
and acknowledge their fundamental differences?
B y C l y d e V. P r e s t o w i t z , J r ., ’6 3

1 16
Getting the Jump on Hip Hop
A musical culture o f African American and Latino
neighborhoods crosses the line to mainstream Swarthmore.

Editor:
Maralyn Orbison Gillespie ’49

By R oger W

Managing Editor:

il l ia m s

Roger Williams

Assistant Managing Editor:
Kate Downing

1 My
18 9 Innings

Editor for Copy and Class Notes:
Nancy Curran

Assistant Copy Editor:
Ann D. Geer
Designer: Bob Wood
Cover: On a rap note, Lang scholar
Juan Martinez ’91 introduces Hip
Hop culture to Swarthmore. Photo
by J. Martin Natvig.
The Swarthmore College Bulletin (ISSN
0888-2126), o f which this is volume
LXXXVII, number 4, is published in
September, twice in November, and in
February, May, and August by Swarth­
more College, Swarthmore, PA 190811397. Second class postage paid at
Swarthmore, PA, and additional mailing
offices. Postmaster: Send address changes
to Swarthmore College Bulletin, Swarth­
more, PA 19081-1397.

Wmm

Four generations o f baseball executives carry the name MacPhail
This autobiography o f 50 years in baseball offers a rare look at
the inner sanctum o f America’s national pastime.
By L

ee

M

ac

P h a i l ’3 9

1
DEPARTMENTS
26 The College
32 Letters to the Editor
33 Class Notes
37 Deaths
48 Alumni Children
54 Recent Books by Alumni
57 Alumni Council

Attorneys fo r whom pro bono is de facto

Among the many traditions inherited by the
American legal system from the Roman and
British systems of law is that of doing work
without pay pro bono—for the good. In the
United States, attorneys are often required to
offer such service on a minimal basis—in
New York, for example, about 20 hours a
year.
Some attorneys, however, find themselves
doing hundreds or thousands of hours of
unpaid or minimally paid work because
they are idealists. The Swarthmoreans de­
scribed in the following story might react to
such an appellation either by merely humor­
ing it or by calling themselves, instead,
pragmatists with a social conscience. Per­
haps they are both.
And in the case of Marshall Beil ’67 and
Arthur Block ’70, they are also quixotic,
even eccentric. Consider Block’s statement
that as a result of work for communitybased, collective organizations and busi­
nesses in New York over the last decade or
so, his income has actually declined. Or
Marshall Beil’s quiet admittance that when
he argued in front of the Supreme Court, he
wore an extremely conservative dark suit but
also, in a Swarthmore-like remembrance of
individualism, a bright, flowery tie.
Block, co-founder of the Harlem Legal
Clinic and counsel to 1988 third-party presi­
dential candidate Dr. Lenora Fulani, has
spent a great deal of time working in Harlem,
where few attorneys would deign to go. And
Beil, equally tenacious and passionate in
pursuit of his cause, has devoted nearly a
decade to arguing a case for abortion rights
activists who have challenged the Internal
Revenue Service and the Roman Catholic
Church for violating tax-exmpt status laws
and outwardly entering partisan politics.
Both graduates of Harvard Law School,
the two attorneys live and work in New
York City, where years of effort devoted to
separate but far-reaching issues have led
them recently to argue closely related cases
before the 2nd U.S. Circuit Court of Ap­
peals. The two had not known each other
previously and travel in different circles. Beil
is a partner in a firm with spacious and
2

Just
for
the

comfortable offices on Madison Avenue.
Block, located in a small and unpretentious
suite among other businesses that are coop­
erative and community based, works on
West 47th Street when he isn’t at the Harlem
Legal Clinic.
Their cases, now related by the issue of
standing—the right of one party to sue
another—reveal how much each has done
to make American society stronger and the
rights and opportunities of its citizens more
equal.

The case that lasted a decade
Ten years ago New York attorney Marshall
Beil ’67 accepted a case that would put him
at the apex of a philosophical and legal
question fundamental to the safe conduct of
our democracy—the separation of church
and state. He did not expect the case to
unfold with a Dickensian complexity that
would stretch into the decade of the 1990s.
Beil agreed to represent a group of 21
plaintiffs consisting of Protestant and Jewish
clergy, Catholic laity, and abortion rights
groups in a suit against the Internal Revenue
Service and the Roman Catholic Church.

by Roger W illiams

The plaintiffs charged that the IRS had
allowed Catholic organizations to carry on
improper political activities in its fight
against abortion. Formed under a coalition
called Abortion Rights Mobilization (ARM),
the plaintiffs argued that the United States
Conference of Catholic Bishops and other
Catholic groups had repeatedly and fla­
grantly violated federal tax law by actively
supporting political candidates who opposed
abortion.
“The Catholic Church, like Swarthmore
College, is a tax-exempt organization,” Beil
explains. “The tax code that grants that
status—501(c)(3)—states that organizations
with tax-exempt status can’t participate in
the partisan political process. The notion is
that tax exemption is a form of subsidy by
the treasury, and the politcal process in this
country should not be funded by the trea­
sury.”
A partner in the Madison Avenue firm of
Lefrak, Newman & Myerson, Beil points to
a file cabinet in one corner of his office that
holds a decade’s worth of documents and
papers in the case, known either as A R M vs.
Baker, or In re: United States Catholic
Conference. Beil has carried the case through
several professional advances in New York,
where he practices law as a “generalist,”
because, he says, its significance is farreaching. Now, after 10 years and countless
thousands of hours of effort pro bono, much
of which time he worked alone or with
student and other volunteers, he is seeking
a second opportunity to take the case before
the Supreme Court.
“It’s a test case raising a crucial issue and
one in which there’s no redress,” he says. “I
see it as an abortion rights case and a case
protecting the separation of church and
state, definitely not as an anti-Catholic case.”
Using similar language in a 1987 Newsday
article, he termed it a “religion-in-politics
lawsuit.”
“This suit was started to achieve a level
playing field on which the plaintiffs are
saying, ‘We aren’t asking to be allowed to
participate in the partisan process; we are
asking that the Catholic Church be required
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

M arshall B eil ’67 has devoted a decade to preserving the separation o f church and state in a case involving the Catholic Church and the IRS.

to follow the strictures of the tax-exempt
code, just as we are.’ The plaintiffs feel that
no church should tell people how to vote or
use tax-deductible contributions to partici­
pate in partisan campaigning.”
Beil describes this aspect of the case as
narrow, citing the first ten words of the First
Amendment, which begins the Bill of Rights:
“Congress shall make no law respecting an
establishment of religion___” And he is
quick to point out that his plaintiffs are
active in the abortion debate and that they
want the Catholic Church or any other
church to be equally active. “But,” he adds,
“not when they violate the law by telling
church members how to vote. Swarthmore,
for example, can’t take its money and give
it to a political candidate. And President
Fraser can’t tell people, as a representative of
the institution, how to vote. He may certainly
FEBRUARY 1990

express his opinion as a private citizen. The
same goes for the church or any other
501(c)(3) organization.”
In one well-publicized newspaper edito­
rial in 1980, for example, the Archbishop of
San Antonio urged voters to vote for Ronald
Reagan as the only candidate “clearly op­
posed to abortion.”
Beil’s arguments are rooted in a long
historical view of politics and law in the
West, which he has analyzed with a scholar’s
breadth to reach a simple, unequivocal con­
clusion: “Europe was plagued for hundreds
of years by political wars and conflict result­
ing from religious differences. The founding
fathers were determined not to repeat this.”
After nearly a decade of litigation, the
original charges brought by the plaintiffs
have yet to be dealt with in court. Instead the
court fights have focused on the issue of

standing. Opposing lawyers for both the
church and the government, trying for many
years to get the case dismissed, have argued
that the plaintiffs have no standing to sue
because they have suffered no direct damage
from the church or the IRS and are merely
“third parties.”
“The standing law prevents a third party,
a bystander, from bringing suit against some­
one who hurts another,” explains Beil. “The
rules of standing exist to avoid collusive
lawsuits and to ensure that the real parties
are involved.”
Beil has argued for the plaintiffs that
specific damages suffered as a result of IRS
bias include misuse of their tax dollars and
infringement of their political rights, as well
as violations of their constitutional right to
religious equality. These arguments have
been vindicated, in part at least, in several

early court decisions. Ironically, however,
although the standing issue was orignially
resolved in favor of the plaintiffs, it returned
to hurt them more recently.
After ARM sued the IRS and then the
church beginning in 1980, a federal district
judge ruled that the plaintiffs did, indeed,
have standing to sue, a victory for Beil that
few expected. Although that judge also
granted the church’s motion that it be
dropped from the lawsuit, the church con­
tinued to be deeply involved in the case, in
part because ARM subpoenaed church docu­
ments relevant to the case in 1983.
Over the next three years in a series of
hard-fought debates, the church was denied
an attempt to quash the subpoena, a federal
district judge again upheld ARM’s right to
standing, and finally, in a landmark decision,
the church was cited for contempt for failing
to produce the relevant documents sought by
the plaintiffs. The court fined the church
$100,000 a day for every day it refused to
provide the documents.
An appeal by church lawyers eventually
served to freeze this penalty and raised again
the question of standing. When the U.S.
Court of Appeals for the 2nd Circuit ruled
2 to 1 in 1987 that the church could not
challenge the plaintiffs’ standing because it
was no longer a party to the lawsuit, the case
finally went to the Supreme Court.
This labyrinthine series of point-counterpoints led finally to one of the most exciting
events in Beil’s career. As he describes it,
arguing in front of the Supreme Court is
really just “a 10-person conversation be­
tween you and nine of the most powerful
people in the country. For one-half hour you
have their undivided attention.
“It’s surprising how intimate it is. As the
lawyer in the well, you’re physically closer
to the justices than in any appellate court in
which I’ve argued.”
But the Supreme Court, in an 8 to 1
decision in June 1988, put the case in
remand by overturning the appeals court
and ruling that the church could challenge
the plaintiffs’ standing, thereby forcing the
case back on the appeals court. In the most
recent decision, handed down last Septem-

J . M A h I I IN INAI V IU

to make a
difference
for poor people.

SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

ber, a three-judge panel of the U.S. Court of
Appeals ruled 2 to 1 that the abortion rights
groups do not have standing.
“This,” says Beil in a likely understate­
ment, “I found hugely discouraging.”
But, he adds quickly, the case is far from
over. The plaintiffs have appealed to the fullpanel appeals court; they hope eventually to
convince even conservative judges in the
highest court who may not agree with their
specific cause that they do have standing and
that the underlying constitutional question
must be addressed in this case.
In his appeal, Beil noted that another
decision in a standing case by the 2nd U.S.
Circuit Court of Appeals only five weeks
earlier was “diametrically opposed” to the
court’s decision in A R M vs. Baker. Signifi­
cantly, that decision was handed down in
favor of attorney Arthur Block 70, serving
as counsel to third-party 1988 presidential
candidate Dr. Lenora Fulani.

When “grass roots” means
the streets
Arthur Block 7 0 might be characterized as
a community activist lawyer who first met
psychologist and politician Dr. Lenora Fu­
lani in 1984, when he and a partner decided
to found the Harlem Legal Clinic. Fulani’s
friend, New York educator Barbara Taylor,
called Block to ask what he could do for
Fulani’s New Alliance Party. The party, a
black-run, multiracial political party with
strong support in Harlem, sought to offer
legal aid, among other services, to residents
of Harlem after the elections of that year.
“The Democrats,” recalls Block, “would
send representatives into Harlem to open
offices before an election, but when the
election was over, those offices would close.
Dr. Fulani really wanted to offer permanent
services out of her office, not just for some­
body’s vote but for the good of that commu­
nity.”
So Block and then partner Harry Kresge
decided to devote nearly all of their extra
time, some 20 hours a week, to the Harlem
Legal Clinic—for little or no money. Open­
ing first in a “bare bones office with no heat”
on 135th Street and Lenox Avenue, they
began to advertise the clinic by handing out
a questionnaire on Harlem street corners
and in bars, grocery stores, and beauty shops
throughout the community.
“The first question was, ‘What would you
like attorneys to do?’ ” reveals Block. “And
the answer was often, ‘Help with housing.’
So we did.
“Promoting the clinic on the streets of
Harlem as a white, I was surprised at just
how warm and generous people in Harlem
FEBRUARY 1990

can be. Of course when they heard the clinic
was free, they were very appreciative. And
when they heard we were part of the New
Alliance Party, which is loved in Harlem,
they began to trust us.”
The point is brought home when Block,
offering a tour of the current headquarters of
the Harlem Legal Clinic and New Alliance
Party at 125th Street and Fifth Avenue, is
challenged by a passerby. “Hey, you must be
a politician looking for votes or something,”
calls out the man.
“No,” comes Block’s quick reply, “but
I’m with the New Alliance Party. Is that

OK?”
“Dr. Fulani?” he sings out with a smile.
“Yeah, Dr. Fulani, she’s OK, I get all her
literature.”
“Do you read it?”
“She makes me read it,” the man says,
laughing and moving away with a compan­
ion.
Though Block’s friend, attorney Harry
Kresge, is now solely in charge of the Har­
lem Legal Clinic, Block occasionally fills in
for Kresge or one of the volunteers who
work at the clinic. “We don’t actually take
on cases unless they’re very unusual and we

Picker describes the relationship between
the law clinic and the university as “symbi­
otic.” Working under supervision, law stu­
dents at the school have the opportunity to
become deeply involved in important, some­
times controversial federal cases accepted by
the clinic. Because the clinic is a nonprofit
organization, clients can be served without
regard to their ability to pay attorneys’ fees.
Picker explains, “We hope that some
aspect of our work will strike a chord of
idealism in students, and we want to accom­
plish something as well.”
Under Picker’s guidance, the fund and the
clinic got off to an auspicious start in 1972.
“The first big case we had, and the first
Jane Moody Picker ’57: securing argument
I ever made, was in the United
the rights of women proves to
States Supreme Court. It was called LaFleur
be the work of a lifetime
ra. the Cleveland Board o f Education, an
important case because it allowed us to
Jane Picker first encountered discrimination challenge the mandatory maternity rules
at Yale Law School in 1960 as one of seven that were common throughout the country
female classmates seeking employment fol­ then. In this particular instance, two teachers
lowing graduation. Now a professor of law in Cleveland were required to leave school
and director of the Fair Employment Prac­ at the end of their fourth month of pregnancy
tice Law Clinic at Cleveland State University and couldn’t return until their babies were 6
College of Law, Picker decided in the early months old. In addition, they had to wait to
1970s to devote her professional life to se­ return until the beginning of a semester. And
curing equal rights for women.
all of this forced maternity leave was without
Leaving private practice, she sought fund­ pay.”
ing for a nonprofit clinic or program that
Her clients, Jo Carol LaFleur and Ann
could be adopted by a law school and would Elizabeth Nelson, had been out of work for
be instrumental in helping people seeking to months. What happened? “We won,” she
litigate sex discrimination cases.
says firmly.
“I was dumbfounded,” she quips, “when
Nowadays when Picker isn’t teaching,
we actually received that funding in full.”
she’s litigating. “Currently we represent wom­
Thus began the Women’s Law Fund in en who want to be firefighters. We’re also
Cleveland, supported variously by grants litigating the issue of whether Title VII of the
from the Ford Foundation, the Gund Foun­ Civil Rights Act protects Americans work­
dation, the Cleveland Foundation, and the ing for American companies overseas.”
Fair Employment Practice Clinic (first Picker adds that increasingly the clinic works
funded by a federal grant). According to with nonprofit groups and attorneys through­
Picker, “Cleveland State was eager to set up out the country.
this program, and now it’s expanded to
If her tone is any indication, a great deal
include many different types of employment- still needs to be done, and she intends to help
related discrimination cases.”
do it.
5

can effect a change for a large group of
people,” he explains of the clinic’s work.
“What we do is offer free counsel to anyone
who comes through the door on what they
ought to do and where and how they can do
it. A lot of times people will have a problem
with a landlord, for example, that doesn’t
even require an attorney, or we can point
them to someone who really cares and has
expertise, instead of to lawyers doing the
minimal pro bono obligation and taking on
cases they have no experience with just so
they can have a change of pace.”
For Block, the experience of co-founding
the Harlem Legal Clinic in the early 1980s
evolved coincidently with his changing view
of politics and responsibility. “I was set for

Margaret Kohn *69: A rare and
compassionate attorney comes to
the aid o f handicapped children
Ever since Margaret Kohn graduated from
Columbia University School of Law in
1972, she’s worked for the good of someone
else. Like many Swarthmoreans of her gen­
eration who provide passionate, lifelong
services to underprivileged members of the
society, Kohn began this process at the
College. She recognized that the way to
change society lay either in education or in
the law. Her senior thesis, consequently,
analyzed the inequities of funding between
urban and suburban schools.
After graduation from law school, Kohn
worked ardently for women’s rights, eventu­
ally devoting a decade to the National
Women’s Law Center and the Center for
Law and Social Policy.
“From 1972 to 1985,” she notes wryly,
“all of my work was pro bono. Now most
of it is.” Helping to right inequities, inevit­
ably, proved a poor way to get rich.
Her abiding idealism, uninhibited as she
approached the middle years of a successful
6

life with a career as a liberal public interest
lawyer,” he explains. “But it wasn’t enough
for me to have a niche as a successful liberal.
I was looking for a different way to function
as a professional. The Republicans were
moving to the right, the Democrats to the
center. And more and more the Democrats
were speaking the rhetoric of the New Deal
but advocating a policy of total austerity in
relation to the poor.”
According to Block, the progressive legal
tradition of the ’60s and ’70s, a time when
great stock was put in having the courts
change such institutions as prisons and
schools and when liberal lawyers sought to
protect the poor through the 14th Amend­
ment, broke down.

career, surfaced again in 1985, when she
decided to explore her longtime interest in
education. “I had always wanted to teach, so
I went back to school, became certified as
an elementary school teacher, and taught the
fourth and fifth grades for a year in a large,
urban public school system.” That effort, in
a system that offers mediocre remuneration
for teachers, was unquestionably pro bono.
How did it go? “I have to say it was the
most exhausting work I’ve ever done,” she
states flatly. “And I discovered that I’m a
better lawyer than I am a teacher. But I’m
glad I explored it.”
Now an associate in the Washington,
D.C., firm of Bogin & Eig, Kohn specializes
in education and handicap law, focusing
most of her work on the Education of the
Handicapped Act (Public Law 94-142). She
devotes herself specifically to helping parents
acquire special education services their handi­
capped children require from public school
systems.
“Many of the people I work with are not
in a position to pay me when I do the work,”
she reveals. “I may or may not get paid. And
I devote all of my pro bono work to those
from low-income families who need the
same services wealthier clients can pay me
to provide.”
In one recent case, a low-income 4-yearold awaiting a kidney transplant was barred
from a regular public school class because
he needed medication and tube feeding
during the school day. Kohn forced an
administrative hearing, then negotiated with
the school to have the boy admitted and to
train staff members in his care. This, Kohn
explains, allowed him to be mainstreamed
in a regular pre-K classroom, rather than
placed in a segregated school for severely
handicapped children.
“I think that part of it has worked out well
for him,” she says modestly.

“The kind of major social reforms we
wanted in desegregation, racism, education,
and women’s rights weren’t happening in
the courts, so I reorganized my entire prac­
tice,” he says. “The right wing had built a
grass roots base, a community base, after
Goldwater’s defeat in 1964, and spent 15
years strengthening it. So I said, ‘Block,
you’ve got to build something.’ ”
What he built was a New York practice
devoted to initiating and strengthening com­
munity-based collective businesses or non­
profit enterprises, several of which were
formed in various parts of the city by
members of the New Alliance Party.
Block’s focus expanded when he became
special counsel to Fulani during the 1988
presidential campaign. His greatest achieve­
ment, in his view, came when he helped
Fulani secure matching funds, making her
one of only 16 candidates and the only nonDemocrat or Republican to do so.
“She was the first black woman presiden­
tial candidate in history,” he notes, “and a
serious candidate who had raised funds in
over 20 states. When the League of Women
voters, a tax-exempt 501(c)(3) organization,
sponsored the debates on television, they
didn’t want to include Dr. Fulani. We felt
we had standing to sue them and to sue the
IRS, and we wanted to find a legal way to
make a point—that the debates were not
democratic.”
The suit demanded extensive legal work
long after the election and required appeal
to the 2nd Circuit Court after being thrown
out of court in a first hearing. Finally, on
Aug. 2, 1989, the 2nd Circuit Court found
that Fulani had standing to challenge both
the tax-exempt status of the League of
Women Voters and the IRS. In this impor­
tant victory, Block used arguments formed
by Marshall Beil.
But the court ruled that the league was
justified in excluding Fulani from primaryseason debates because she could not be
considered a primary candidate. In response
to this decision, Block simply expresses hope
that Fulani will remain in politics.
Reflecting on his work and his future, he
says, “You’ve got to have some emotional
and social support to do this kind of thing.
I feel I have it here”—he gestures toward
other offices in his suite. “These are all
talented, bright people who used to be on
Wall Street or in big ad agencies, for exam­
ple. Now they’re running collective or non­
profit businesses for people. These people
are not into deprivation. They like stuff. But
they care about the rights of people and
about communities.”
In the end, it seems, that best defines those
who work pro bono.
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

20th Century
Chronicler o f fashion
Richard Martin
presents
a visual history o f the way
men dress in our time
by N ancy Curran

ALDO FALLAI

For someone who can’t cope with making
clothing decisions for himself on a daily
basis, Richard Martin has created a high­
brow, intellectual style survey of 20th-cen­
tury men’s fashion, both as an exhibition at
the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) in
New York City and as an “amusing” book
published by Rizzoli last year, co-authored

Left: D andy expressing the hippies’ style in the late ’60s:
colorful assemblages o f craft work and second-hand clothing.
Above: Jocks wearing Arm ani sportswear, simple, comfort­
able fashion reflecting fitn ess and devotion to leisure activity.

with FIT curator Harold Koda.
Professor and dean of graduate studies at
FIT, Martin chose to highlight 20th-century
men’s apparel because he feels it often is
taken for granted. “The assumption is,” he
claims, “that there is no change in men’s
fashion.”
Both exhibition and book, Jocks and
Nerds, divide men into 12 types: Worker,
Rebel, Cowboy, Military Man, Hunter,
Sportsman, Joe College, Businessman, Man
about Town, Dandy, Jock, and Nerd. Writes
Martin: “The choices are most decidedly
arbitrary, yet they represent twelve persistent
style modes of the 20th century. We believe
that men are knowing in making choices
among style options and that they dress to
create or recreate social roles. Both men and
women seek to realize roles and identities,
but since men’s options in dress would ap­
pear to be the more acutely restricted, per­
haps selecting a role has assumed more im­
portance for them than it has for women.”
There is little dispute that men’s style is
more stable than women’s. Yet, he contends,
“to be free from capricious fashion change

eft: The cowboy in fu ll regalia is prepared
fo r anything. H is duster provides functional
protection and illustrates independence,
rugged individualism, and adaptability.
Below: The Establishment meets Rambo, both sporting
macho camouflage clothing designed fo r leisure wear.

IMBERT

L

does not mean that men do not make
thoughtful decisions about their attire. On
the contrary: Because fashion does not pre­
vail, choices become even more important.
Because men’s style is so tradition-bound,
any deviation, no matter how subtle, trans­
forms the role and the man.”
Most men, Martin asserts, can easily clas­
sify themselves as a certain type in general
but also dress for a variety of roles. In going
to one restaurant, the worker’s clothing
would be suitable, but to another, wearing
the dandy’s outfit would be more appropri­
ate. “I think not any one of these categories
is exclusive, but probably most men play in
FEBRUARY 1990

a range of three or so types.”
In menswear, Martin explains, both the
individual elements and the assembly of
these elements have great importance. Some
of the same elements that Joe College wears
may turn up on the nerd but be put together
in different ways. “The madras shorts the
nerd would wear would be just a little bit
different in sizing; perhaps the madras would
be with a bad pattern mix.” In the actual
exhibition itself, wardrobes were made up
for each of the twelve types, and Martin
points out that there were a number of
overlapping items—blue jeans, for example,
occurred for the worker, for Joe College,
and for a number of categories.
“Many people were surprised to see things
in the museum exhibition that they them­
selves had worn. One of the remarkable
things about showing clothing, of course, is
that even if you’re showing couture clothing,
it’s something that we empathize with in a
very deep way. Whereas a painting or sculp­
ture may have only certain semblances to the
world as we know it, an article of clothing
is of the world, as we dress every day. I think
one of the arguments we wished to make in
this book and in the exhibition was how ro­
mantic, evocative, and inspiring men’s cloth­
ing is in ways we probably haven’t appre­
ciated.”
Clothes may follow the convention of the
day, but society’s see-saw tolerance of selfexpression allows for some elasticity. De­
pending on the mood of the times, the
double-breasted suit of the man about town
may find popularity alongside the conserva­
tive Establishment businessman’s suit. Pres­
ently jocks and nerds are gamering more of
JILL FREEDMAN
the spotlight because of their new respect­
ability. Martin elaborates: “The jock is the
health nut, the fitness addict, the man who
participates fully in the game(s) of life. The
nerd is the egghead, the intellectual, the
outsider plucked from the limbo to which he
eft: The person least
was confined by the 1950s.”
likely to have been
Some styles are long-lived. Martin cites
invited to the teen
the safari jacket as a garment many men
party o f the 1950s is
own that gives them a sense of hunter ro­
the nerd, now viewed with new
mance. “I’ve often argued,” he states, “that
respect fo r his intellectual
the most romantic fashion diction you can
prowess. Above: A Black Pan­
find anywhere in the world is the L.L. Bean
ther in a fatigue ja ck et stands
catalog. It’s not haute couture, but it has all
ready in 1968 to wage a battle
the romance of fashion. It allows you to
fo r the poor.
think you are going out hunting game, and
you’re simply going to the market.”
Joe College, who Martin claims never
really inhabited the Swarthmore campus
when he was there, can be as romantic as the
hunter and other categories, but he also is
international in all the different elements he
wears that go together. As Martin describes
Joe College, “If he’s wearing a Shetland

L

SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

eft: D ressing fo r success
in the ’20s, businessmen
display a homogeneous
group o f suits and over­
coats—the business suit continues
to be affiliated with achievem ent
Below: Joe College never ages in
his letter ja c k e t jeans, and running
shoes. Bottom: Richard Martin, sur­
veyor o f fashion and social roles.

L

sweater, chinos (representing cloth exported
from India to China and sold to Americans
in the Philippines during World War I), and
desert boots (originally Chukka boots worn
by the British in India), whether he realizes
it in a conscious way or not, just that as­
sembly of items alone will show that he is
international.”
Martin sees himself “probably as a nerd.
Certainly, if I remember correctly, I dressed
that way at Swarthmore. Nerds are asso­
ciated with intelligence and ideas, and I
think one of the reasons there is a kind of
revenge of the nerds in the 1980s is because
of the primacy given to intelligence.” Nowa­
FEBRUARY 1990

days Martin arrives at FIT dressed as a
businessman to teach classes in the history
of art, contemporary art, and the history of
menswear. He finds wearing a “uniform” of
the same design suit every day more his style.
“I just don’t like making clothing decisions.
I have a shopper who buys my clothes for
me. She has much better judgment than I.”
What about weekends when he’s not
working? There is a clear note of amusement
in his response. “Entirely in jeans, so as a
worker then!”
Photographs reprintedfrom Jocks and Nerds
with permission o f the authors.

by Clyde V. Prestowitz, Jr., *63
Former U.S. Ambassador to Japan Mike
Mansfield was so fond of saying that “the
U.S.-Japan relationship is our most impor­
tant bilateral relationship bar none” that the
comment has become a cliché. Nevertheless,
Mansfield is correct. What needs to be
added is that it is a relationship with prob­
lems which if not handled wisely in the
decade of the 1990s could well result in
conflict that would undermine the free world
economic system.
While not of recent origin, these difficul­
ties have become widely apparent only in
the last few years. For most of the postwar
period, the United States and Japan enjoyed
what seemed to be a harmonious and mu­
tually beneficial relationship based on an
unstated but broadly honored deal. If Japan
would demilitarize and throw in on the side
of the United States in the Cold War, the
United States would be Japan’s protector
and guide in international affairs and would
open its markets and otherwise help Japan
become rich.
The arrangement was amenable to Japan
because it required of the Japanese only that
they accept U.S. bases on their soil to protect
them from their traditional enemy, the Rus­
sians. Japan was not required to open its
markets to American goods or investment
nor did it undertake any security obligations
toward the United States. At the time the
understanding did not seem burdensome to
the United States either. Japan became the
Far Eastern anchor of the U.S. forward
defense net, and while the American market
was opened to Japanese goods with no quid
pro quo, that seemed of little consequence
because no one thought the Japanese could
make goods that Americans would want.
Thus the deal was struck, and the U.S.
12

COURTESY OF CROWN PUBLISHERS, INC.

became the mentor to Japan’s protégé.
The United States and
Over the years the United States became
the sponsor for Japan’s full membership in Japan can solve all the
the club of industrialized democratic nations, frictions if they will only
which heretofore had been an exclusively
Western club. Japan joined the General dispense with the great
Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) in
fiction of similarity
the 1950s and the Organization for Eco­
nomic Cooperation and Development
(OECD) in the early 1960s. In both instan­ ding was easy. In return for creating the
ces there was opposition from other Western circumstances under which Japan could be­
nations, particularly from some of the Euro­ come rich, the Americans did not require
peans. Their argument was that the objec­ anything concrete. But affirming acceptance
tives, structure, and informal procedures of of the Western economic paradigm was a
the Japanese economy were at odds with the necessary condition for continuing to enjoy
charters of the organizations to which Japan its benefits.
Thus in the 1950s and early 1960s the
was applying for membership.
Inherent in the mentor role of the United presumption of similar economic principles,
States, however, was the view that because policies, and structures that underlie all
Japan apparently was an eager student, it U.S.-Japan relationships and negotiations
was being molded in the American image. was established. This was a development
The United States took a certain paternal with very far-reaching implications. Because
pride in this and thus overrode European the two systems were presumed to be essen­
objections by presenting Japan as a chip off tially the same, problems could not, by
the old block. With the Americans running definition, be systemic. They had to be finite
interference, the Japanese really were not and discrete. Moreover, they could really
required to do more than nod when the arise only from one of two causes: aberra­
United States averred that Japan indeed tions, whether fair or unfair, in particular
embraced the tenets of Western free-market markets, and/or lack of effort or skill or
both on the part of one of the participants.
capitalism. Under the circumstances, nodSWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

Implicit in this view is the conclusion that
problems can be solved by getting rid of the
unfairnesses or aberrations (i.e., opening the
Japanese market) or by eliciting more and
cleverer efforts from one of the players (i.e.,
American businessmen).
As a result of this conclusion, U.S.-Japanese relations have been characterized by
increasingly frequent rounds of steadily more
bitter negotiations over specific industries
and even specific products. The troubles be­
gan in the late 1950s, when Japanese textiles
began to make major inroads into the
American market. Japan’s success was ex­
plained in terms of high labor costs and
lethargic management in the United States.
In the early 1960s it was the turn of the
consumer electronics industry—first radio,
then black-and-white television, and later
color television. As these industries came to
be dominated by Japanese firms, it was said
that the Americans had made marketing
mistakes and again that their labor costs
were too high. In the 1970s it was the turn
of the steel and auto industries. The discus­
sion became more serious at this point
because now the United States was running
a chronic trade deficit and these are major
industries at the heart of much of the indus­
trial economy. But still the problems were
largely dismissed. After all these were old,
smokestack industries in the rust belt. Many
believed it was better to let them go because
it was thought that America’s future was in
high technology and services. And, of course,
implicit in this view was the assumption that
the United States is somehow out in front,
leading the way into the “postindustrial”
age. Thus, in each case, the United States
negotiated a deal to facilitate the shrinkage
and even the eventual disappearance of its
FEBRUARY 1990

own industry.
The situation became even more serious
and strained in the early 1980s. It was now
the turn of the semiconductor, telecommun­
ications, optical fiber, and supercomputer
industries to find their positions threatened
by Japanese competitors. This was not sup­
posed to happen. This was where America
was most competitive and where its future
was supposed to be. Inevitably the question
of the moment became how Japan could be
managing to defeat not only old, tired Ameri­
can industries, but the best that Silicon
Valley or Route 128 could present as well.
Whereas heretofore the explanation had
been mostly in terms of American costs and
incompetence, the now rapidly rising trade
deficit began to turn the spotlight on the
Japanese market. That this market was
extremely difficult to penetrate for even the
strongest and most competitive American
firms became increasingly apparent. At a
time when U.S. supercomputer manufactur­
ers controlled 100 percent of the worldwide
market, none could be sold in a Japan that
was racing desperately to develop a capa­
bility of its own. Even though Nippon
Telegraph and Telephone found Coming
Glass’s optical fibers to be better than Japa­
nese fibers, Corning could garner no more
than 2 percent of the Japanese market. It
began to seem to many Americans that the
problem was not so much U.S. incompe­
tence as unfairly closed markets in Japan.
And so the cry arose for Japan to open its
markets in order to achieve a level playing
field.
This culminated in the decision of the
Bush administration in the spring of 1989 to
begin negotiations to open the Japanese
market using the threat of possible retaliation

under U.S. trade law if success cannot be
achieved after a reasonable period of time.
The focus of the U.S. effort is so-called
structural barriers such as the Byzantine
distribution system of the Japanese, the
practice of administrative guidance, whereby
bureaucrats do indicative planning for in­
dustry, and the keiretsu system, in which
major Japanese companies own shares in
each other and control distribution while
often colluding with each other on prices
and market shares.
Although admittedly they inhibit market
penetration, these structures and practices
are seen by the Japanese as central to their
economy and even to their culture. That
they are thus not likely to disappear even in
the face of enormous U.S. pressure suggests
the difficulty with the whole postwar para­
digm of similarity and shared principles
between the two economies.
The U.S. plea to Japan to open its markets
is based on the assumption that the Japanese
know what Americans mean by the word
“open” and that they can respond to it. The
simple fact is that they haven’t got the
foggiest idea of what the Americans are
talking about. Nor, indeed, is there any good
reason why they should. Open is a word
with meaning that grows out of the U.S.
experience as an immigrant nation. We have
spent 300 years focusing a great deal of
attention on how to welcome newcomers
into our midst and integrate them into the
mainstream of our society. To facilitate this,
we have developed the idea that business
should be done on the basis of the best offer
rather than on the basis of long-term or
special relationships. We would think it
unfair if a buyer would buy from his frater­
nity brother or classmate rather than from a
13

— 4- J t »

stranger who offered him the same goods for
a 20 percent lower price.
In Japan the opposite is the case. Japan
has spent most of its history keeping foreign
influences out. It has never wanted new­
comers or thought about how to integrate
them. In business, the Japanese believe that
special, long-term relationships are the only
natural basis for doing business. If a buyer
turns away from an old friend or relative to
do business with a stranger just to get a
better price, the buyer is considered unfair
and disloyal to those who contributed to his
success. Such behavior is shameful.
Kazuo Inamori, the founder of Kyocera
Corp., which currently dominates the world
market for ceramic packages for semicon­
ductors, once told me how difficult it was to
start his company. As a young man of 25,
Inamori was not a graduate of one of
Japan’s elite universities, nor did he come
from a famous family or have any special
relationships with Japanese banks or indus­
trial groups. He explained that because he
had none of these ties, no bank would lend
him money. University graduates would not
work for him. Suppliers would make ship­
ments only on a C.O.D. basis, and worst of
all, customers wouldn’t buy. Inamori ex­
plained that although he does not speak
English, he flew to Dallas and visited Texas
Instruments. He said he was amazed. Texas
Instruments did not ask him about his uni­
versity, or his bank, or his family. It asked
only to see his product. It liked the product
and placed an order on the spot. Only after
business with TI began to grow did some of
the Japanese companies begin to place a

Clyde V. Prestowitz, Jr., ’63

14

¡ if 1
II*

■> i

he great postwar
premise and
|q p e o f shared
fvJhies and economic
pflhciples is false.”

few small orders. As Inamori said to me:
“Prestowitzsan, the Japanese market is not
closed to foreigners. It is closed to Japanese.”
What Inamori should have said is that the
Japanese market is closed to newcomers,
any newcomer, whether foreign or Japanese.
That is obviously the nature of a market in
which long-term relationships are so impor­
tant. It is not necessarily unfair, but it is
certainly not open.
This, then, suggests the third possibility in
the U.S.-Japan debate. The problem is not
that the Japanese are unfair or that the
Americans are lazy. Rather it is that the two .
systems are not very similar, are not based
on the same economic principles, and do not
share the same values. The American de­
mand that Japan “open” its markets is really
nothing more than a way of saying “be like
us.” And the Japanese injunction to try
harder is another way of saying the same
thing.
This is, of course, a dead-end street.
Neither side can or will become like the
other. The truth is that the great postwar
premise and hope of shared values and

economic principles is false. The United
States believes that the purpose of economic
activity is to improve the welfare of consu­
mers, and it measures such improvements on
the basis of a two-year political cycle. Ameri­
cans believe that the proper relationship of
government to industry is arm’s length. The
government establishes the playing field and
then acts as a referee. Although the U.S.
government intervenes in the economy in
many ways, it does not do so systematically
and believes that such intervention is to be
minimized and avoided as much as possible.
The great American values are liberty, equal­
ity, and human rights, and Americans are
prepared to assert their rights to liberty and
equality vigorously.
By contrast, Japan believes that the pur­
pose of economic activity is to strengthen
the nation to enhance the national security.
Japan puts as much emphasis on achieving
economic security as the United States puts
on containing the Soviets. In Japan the
government is expected not only to establish
the playing field, but also to coach the home
team and even change the lie of the field if
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

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COURTESY OF CROWN PUBLISHERS, INC.

necessary to help the team. Japanese believe
in and practice systematic government inter­
vention in the economy. The overriding
Japanese values are duty, obligation, hierar­
chy, and avoidance of open discord.
The United States and Japan are about as
opposite in their thinking as two countries
can be. That does not mean that they cannot
be friends. In the United States, Christians
and Jews get along well, are friends, and
work fruitfully together. But they do so by
recognizing their differences and accommo­
dating them. We do not force Jews to go to
church nor Christians to attend synagogue.
Just so the United States and Japan can
solve all the frictions if they will only dis­
pense with the great fiction of similarity,
recognize their differences, and deal with
them on a completely pragmatic basis, dis­
carding, if need be, even the sacred writ of
free trade, which, in fact, is largely meaning­
less because of the very different premises of
the two economies.
Will it happen? The odds are against it.
Japan has a great vested interest in maintain­
ing the premise of similarity. Once the
FEBRUARY 1990

Americans recognize reality, they are likely
to want to change the system that is now
working so much to Japan’s advantage, at
least in the short term. Many Americans also
have a vested interest in the fictional premise.
In particular much American economic
writing is based upon it. If Japan’s success
is indeed even partially attributable to a
system of capitalism that involves a great
deal of government intervention, targeting of
particular industries, and protection of the
home market, then much American eco­
nomic thinking is off the mark and needs to
be seriously revised. Ironically, the institution
with perhaps the greatest vested interest in
the old premise of similarity is the White
House. As American power declines, the
only influence the United States continues
to wield in the Pacific is based on its role as
the military protector of the region. But the
willingness of the United States to continue
to play this role in the face of increasing
economic dislocation resulting from Pacific
competition is based upon the belief of
Americans that the competition is an equal
one and that if Americans do poorly, it is

merely because they don’t play well enough.
If Americans understood widely that they
cannot win under present circumstances
because they are not playing the same game
as the Asians, their willingness to play
protector would diminish precipitately. But
then the White House would lose any ability
at all to shape events in the Pacific. Thus to
maintain that ability, the White House has
a stake in continuing to tell Americans that
it is business as usual.
Of course in the long run the truth will
come out, but if it is later rather than sooner,
the consequences could be much more se­
vere. To handle the situation sooner and at
minimum cost to the international system
will require statesmanship of the highest
order, both in Japan and in the United
States.
Clyde Prestowitz, president o f the Economic
Strategy Institute, was formerly a senior
associate at the Carnegie Endowment fo r
InternationalPeace. From 1983-86he served
as counselor on Japanese affairs to the
Secretary o f Commerce.
15

Rap music crosses the line

Getting the Jump
on Hip Hop
by Roger W illiams
Bust the Ballistics! B-boy Juan Martinez ’91,
no new jack to Hip Hop, is down to blazin’
b-beat Wednesday nights on Swarthmore’s
WSRN.
Translation: Check out the details of this!
Juan Martinez is well-known at the College
as the resident expert on Hip Hop culture
(b-boy). He is no newcomer to Hip Hop’s
rap music, dance, and subway graffiti that
have come primarily from impoverished
African-American and Latino neighbor­
hoods in the last decade or so. And on
Wednesday nights he has the reputation (is
down) of offering some very good (blazin’)
dance music on the College radio station.
Martinez grew up in New York’s Spanish
Harlem, El Barrio, near 115th Street and
Second Avenue. For him the emergence of
Hip Hop from those streets is as natural as
mist off a morning pond. “It’s an art that
comes from economically depressed, socially
disadvantaged people,” he observes in a dry,
careful tone that would do justice to the best
sociologist. His tone is careful in part because
Martinez recognizes how foreign, and some­
times offensive, Hip Hop might prove to
those unaccustomed either to its appearance
and sound, or to the streets.
“Hip Hop can be for anybody, though. I
had a white, Jewish roommate who knew
more about it than anyone else at Swarthmore. You know, our project is about people
talking to people on a broader scale,” he
explains. The “project” is Swarthmore’s Hip
Hop Education Project, whose members are
defined simply as interested students. Mar­
tinez, who founded the organization with his
first-year roommate, Jeremy Pam ’91, cur­
rently serves as co-director. D.J. partner
Michael Costonis ’92, who comes from a
Boston suburb that might be defined collo­
quially as the other side of the tracks from
Spanish Harlem, is also a co-director.
In “crossing over” to acquire an audience
in the larger “white” world outside ghettos
and projects, Hip Hop may provide real
insights into the artists and people of such
urban environments, Martinez believes. “Sub­
16

way graffiti is a good example because it’s
acquired some respectability and gone from
the trains to the galleries,” he says. “That’s
fortunate, I think, because when the Metro
Transit Authority (MTA) started using new
trains and putting them through the buff,
some good artists found ways to create that
were a lot more productive for them. With
the art and with the music, it should be
economically viable.”
“The buff,” anathema to so-called subway
artists, describes a chemical wash developed
in New York to peel graffiti off the cars in
minutes; trains in the city are now cleaner
looking than they have been in years, Mar­
tinez notes.
And, he adds thoughtfully, the question
of “vandalizing” taxpayers’ property is a
difficult one to reconcile.
Martinez’ particular specialty is rap mu­
sic. He can tick off the names of clubs,
groups, musical progenitors, and history, in
language as colorful and lively as a fireworks
display. Rap, he says, has become much
more a part of mainstream popular music
radio simply because it offers a steady,
driving beat that is good for dancing. “But
the lyrics in rap, traditionally, have been the
Achilles’ heel of the music in terms of its
being salable in the larger culture. The point
of this music, however, has always been to
move, to dance. Not the lyrics.”
He is candid and ambivalent about criti­
cisms of the music as sexist and inordinately

’ll tell you w hat
prom otes violence:
L iving in the
projects prom otes
v io len ce___ ”

I

violent. “In many ways it’s been a male
dominated thing, though that’s changing a
great deal. I’m upset because the violence
thing has really hurt the music. As with any
art, some is good and some isn’t, but censor­
ship of it is definitely wrong. I think people
have to be held accountable for what they
say and do, and that includes rappers. But
look, this music comes from the people,
from the projects, and when critics say rap
actually promotes violence, I have to dis­
agree. I’ll tell you what promotes violence:
Living in the projects promotes violence.
Being hungry promotes violence. Living in
poverty promotes violence.”
The point is passionately made. While
Martinez discusses the music, an animated
conversation develops between him and
Robin Greene, a full-time administrative
secretary in the office of Upward Bound,
with two small children. She is taking a class
at Swarthmore, too, and overhears the dis­
cussion while passing by. “We’re trying to
provide good examples for young people,”
she says. “I don’t see why rap has to use
profanity, or make graphic references to sex,
drugs, and violence. There’s already enough
of that going on. Besides, it stereotypes black
people in the eyes of whites.”
Martinez respects her opinion. “But would
you censor it?” he asks pointedly. “Is all of
it the same in your opinion, without any
redeeming value?”
“No, not at all. Some of it I don’t mind.”
“Then we have no problem,” replies Mar­
tinez. “As long as you’re willing to consider
it, at least.”
And that, he notes, is what the Hip Hop
Education Project at Swarthmore College is
designed to do. “We offer music at College
parties, movies, and the chance for people—
many of whom say they’re liberal and
express some curiosity about the music—to
discover what it is. Whether they like it or
not, I think it doesn’t hurt them to know
what goes on outside of their own worlds.”
Martinez’ opinion is offered with 100proof conviction.
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

A Few Hip Hop Terms
(from the Hip Hop Education Project
Glossary, 1989)
amped—worked up, wired, excited
blazin’—extremely good
b-boy—one who is down with Hip Hop
culture
buff —to remove graffiti, particularly
through the use of solvent first utilized by
the New York Metropolitan
Transit Authority
chill—cool, calm down, hang out
down—affiliated with; known to
fresh—cool; original
frontin’—playing the role, being less than
truthful
Hip Hop—fresh music suitable for rapping
or dancing; collective term used to
describe any of the youthful subcultures
that developed in parts of New York and
other urban areas during the 1970s and
’80s
je t- -to quickly vacate the premises
lampin’—relaxing while others panic;
coolin’
macadacious—hyped
new jack—someone relatively new in
activity or endeavor
posse—group of friends; crew
raw—showing the essence of pure Hip
Hop
rippin’—doing something in an intense or
frenzied manner
24-7—always; 24 hours a day, seven days a
week
100-proof—the whole truth; completely
honest

An integral part o f the colorful world o f
baseball fo r 50 years, Lee MacPhail takes
us behind the dugout in

My Q Innings
G

fowing Up

The Depression cast its pall on every­
thing in Columbus in the early 30s,
including the Columbus Senators baseball team,
the city’s representative in the American Asso­
ciation___ The team in Columbus was not go­
ing to be able to operate in 1931. A t this point,
a group of Columbus businessmen decided that,
with morale at an all-time low, the area needed
its baseball team more than ever, and they
banded together to take it over. Then they
looked for someone to run it, and their attention
focused on one of their own group— a golfing
partner, a Big Ten football official, and a fellow
m em ber of the Columbus Club (a top dow n­
town business and social club), w ho happened
to have time on his hands. W ho better than
Larry MacPhail? M y father thus became presi­
dent of the Columbus Senators and, as a result,
the entire M acPhail family became a part of the
baseball world.
I was thirteen. Until that time I thought that
the biggest sporting event in the world was the
O hio State-M ichigan football game. Baseball
had hardly existed for me. But from that
m oment until this, it has been a central and a
very im portant part of my life.

n

...........................

V '' '

£ m
Facing page: In I960 Lee MacPhail, as general manager of the
Baltimore Orioles, watched a spring training game in Miami with
Yankee General Manager George Weiss. Above: Lee, left, attended
the 1983 World Series with brother Bill ’41 and wife Gwen
PHOTOS COURTESY OF MECKLER BOOKS

by L ee M acPhail ’39

FEBRUARY 1990

19

he Yankees achieved the greatest
record from 1949 to 1964 that
any organization ever had or, most
likely, will ever have again.

T

My Father, Larry MacPhail
When my father returned to civilian life
from the Army, he decided to try to put a
group together and see if he could buy a
major league team .. . . A verbal agreement
was eventually reached for the sale of the
Yankees and affiliated minor league clubs
for $3,000,000. Though this was a lot of
money in those days, it was an incredible
deal for it included Yankee Stadium, the
Newark team with its stadium, and the
Kansas City team with its stadium.
My father was feeling very good about it
and was prepared to sign the formal papers
the next day. Then he got a call from Judge

Landis. Landis had found out about the deal
and also found out who was putting up the
money. He told my father that his backer
was not acceptable and would not be ap­
proved because he was involved in horse
racing. The Judge was adamant and Dad
was crushed. Was he going to lose this out­
standing opportunity? His reaction was typi­
cal of the man. He simply went forward with
the deal the next day and signed the papers,
the Trustees having no idea that his financing
had just evaporated. At least this gave him
a little time to try and put a new group to­
gether. That afternoon he stopped at the
“21” Club on 52nd Street in Manhattan, one
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

of his favorite haunts. While he was standing
at the bar, contemplating his problem, in
walked an old friend, still in his Marine uni­
form, Dan Topping. Dan came from a very
wealthy Long Island family that had made
a fortune in tin. He had owned the Brooklyn
Dodgers professional football team that
played at Ebbets Field and he and Dad had
gotten to know each other then and were
friends. Dan quickly agreed to be part of the
syndicate to buy the Yankees and, in addi­
tion, he knew someone who would take the
balance. The someone was Del Webb, a
large real estate developer who lived in
California. The deal was quickly put to­
gether. Webb and Topping each put up half
the money; each of the trio would own one
third of the team; and Dad would run it and
receive an appropriate salary. (Over a period
of time, it was a great deal for Topping and
Webb. They sold the land under Yankee
Stadium and took a ninety-nine year lease
on it. They eventually sold both the Newark
and Kansas City teams and their stadiums.
And finally, years later, they sold the Yan­
kees to CBS for $14,400,000.) While I was
still in the service, my father contacted me
to tell me that he would like me to run the
Kansas City Blues as soon as I got out of the
Navy. So in addition to the thrill of getting
home and seeing my family, I had a good
job waiting for me in baseball.
General Manager, Kansas City
Blues, 1946-48*
Kansas City, of course, was our Triple-A
team, Beaumont, Texas in the Texas League
was our AA affiliate, Denver in the Western
League was Class-A. In those days, classifi­
cations continued through B, C, D. Quincy,
Illinois in the III League was our Class-B
team; Grand Forks, North Dakota and
Joplin, Missouri were Class-C; while Fond
du Lac, Wisconsin, Independence, Kansas
and McAlester, Oklahoma were Class-D. I
visited them all pretty regularly and, in
addition to spending time with the managers,
got to know the team owners well—often
several per team. I also spent a lot of time
with the scouts. We used to conduct many
tryout camps and had a training camp in
Branson, Missouri, in the Ozarks where we
sent the better players from the tryout camps
for a more extensive look. All of our area
scouts came into Branson with their better
prospects. Many good players made their
way through Branson—Mickey Mantle, Bill
Virdon, Whitey Herzog, Jerry Lumpe,
*[MacPhaiFs co-workers in Kansas City
were his brother Bill ’41 and his college
roommate, Herm Krattenmaker ’39.]
FEBRUARY 1990

Facing page: The author’s father, Larry M acPhail right, with Commissioner Landis at the
opening o f the Columbus Redbird Stadium in 1932. Above: This team o f M ike Burke, presi­
dent; Ralph Houk, manager; and M acPhail general manager, ran the Yankees in 1967.

Norm Siebern, Bobby Winkles, and many
more.
Tom Greenwade brought in Mickey Man­
tle, and because he was only seventeen years
old his father came with him. Mickey played
shortstop at the time. He was very green and
made lots of errors but anyone could see his
great, natural talent. He had outstanding
speed, a fine arm, and was a switch hitter.
He showed power both ways, but the tre­
mendous power he had as a major league
player developed as he grew bigger and
stronger. He signed a Class-D contract for a
very small bonus. The only question was
which team he would report to—McAlester
or Independence. The latter was closer to his
home in Commerce, Oklahoma and that’s
where his father wanted him. So that’s
where we sent him.
This was really the part of baseball that I
enjoyed most. I have always felt that, salary
aside, the best job in baseball is that of the
farm director. Things have changed though;
the title itself has pretty much disappeared
from job descriptions.. . .
Farm Director, New York
Yankees, 1949-53
Because of our fine scouts we had a steady
stream of good young players coming into
our system. In addition to players mentioned
in earlier chapters, there was Gil McDougald, Andy Carey, and Billy Martin (via

Oakland) from the Coast; plus Tony Kubek,
Bobby Richardson, Lew Burdette, Bill Skowron, Woody Held, Norm Siebern, Jerry
Lumpe, Russ Snyder, and others.
A few we had got away. Lew Burdette
was struggling a little; I had to talk him out
of quitting once in a hotel in Charleston,
West Virginia. Then when he was ill in
spring training, George put him in a deal
with Milwaukee for Johnny Sain___And
in 1957, Burdette beat the Yankees three
times to gain the World Championship for
Milwaukee.
And then there were disappointments___
But enough of them made it to give the

Yankees the greatest record from 1949
through 1964 that any organization ever had
or, most likely, will ever have again. In
r hen Stengel was
sixteen years the Yankees won the American
first exposed to
League Championship fourteen times and
the
the press, some thought World Championship nine times. In the
period 1949 to 1958 (covered by this chap­
the Yankees had lost
ter), they were in the Series every year but
one and won five consecutive World Cham­
their minds___
pionships.
In addition to the young white players we
signed, we finally started trying to acquire
good, young black players. The Kansas City
Monarchs of the Negro League rented our
stadium in Kansas City and they had prom­
ised us first chance at any of their players. In
1950 I worked out a deal with Tom Baird,
owner of the Monarchs, to purchase the

W

contracts of Elston Howard and Frank
Barnes. Barnes had an excellent arm but had
other problems and we eventually let him go
to St. Louis. But Howard was outstanding;
an outstanding player and an outstanding
man. Baird also told me about a young
shortstop he had and I sent Tom Greenwade
to see him. At the time, he had a bad ankle
and Tom wanted to see more. When we did
not act immediately, Baird felt free to assign
him elsewhere (he also didn’t like the price
I was able to extract from Weiss in the
Howard-Bames deal), and sold this young
man’s contract to the Cubs. The player was
Ernie Banks. Can you imagine how formi­
dable the Yankee lineup would have been
with Ernie Banks inserted in it?
I saw almost every home game when I

SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

was in New York and a few games on the
road. Casey Stengel had taken over for
Bucky Harris after the ’48 season___Casey
was a very unusual individual__ He already
had had a long career as a major league
player and manager and Pacific Coast
League manager and now, in his first year
as a Yankee manager, was fifty-nine years
old. On the surface, he sometimes acted like
a clown. He spoke in “Stengelese,” his own
lexicon, which ignored grammar and might
or might not have subject or verb. Things or
people were seldom referred to by name—
instead by a description that might or might
not be recognizable to the listener. Some­
times when he did not want to comment on
something he made his remarks incompre­
hensible on purpose. When he was first
hired and exposed to the press and others,
some thought the Yankees had lost their
minds to hire h im .. ..
There was a great deal of talent on the
Yankee roster and Casey wisely realized he
should find a way of getting most of the
squad into games. He was probably the first
manager to use the platoon system exten­
sively. Some of the players didn’t like it but
when it produced results they grudgingly
accepted it and year by year their respect for
their manager grew.
Vice President for Player Personnel, ,
Yankees, 1954-58
I spent a good deal of time with the major
league team. In spring training I went to St.
Petersburg instead of to Lake Wales and as
a result spent a lot of time with Casey. I was
sort of his personal chauffeur and compan­
ion and ate (and drank) with him often.
Everyone thought that Casey was a great
drinker. I learned that, although he always
had a glass in his hand, on most occasions
he didn’t really drink that much. His man­
aging reputation was established with the
World Series... that first year (1949) with
the Yankees. As the successes continued, his
reputation continued to skyrocket. He was
very canny and his reputation was deserved.
He was also, on occasion, lucky. I re­
member one such occasion during a game in
New York: The Yankees were leading in the
ninth but the opposition filled the bases with
none out. Casey turned to his bull pen,
where two men were throwing. One was
Virgil Trucks, a veteran pitcher, not having
a good year and nearing retirement. He had
just been acquired by the Yankees and
hadn’t pitched for ten days. The other was
Johnny Kucks, a young sinker ball pitcher
who had been doing an excellent job, since
being called up, in tough late-inning situa­
tions. Casey picked up the phone to the bull
FEBRUARY 1990

B W B

pen and said, “Send in Kucks.” Darrell
Johnson, the bull pen coach, misunderstood.
He thought Casey had said, “Send in
Trucks.” So in came Trucks. Everyone was
aghast and Casey almost fainted, but by the
rules Trucks had to pitch to at least one man.
He did, and the batter popped up the first
pitch. The next hitter hit the first pitch back
to the pitcher and the Yankees completed a
game-ending double play. The crowd was
thrilled, the press ecstatic. Casey was indeed
a “master strategist.”
Assistant to the Baseball
Commissioner, 1966
During my years in baseball I was always
interested in trying to help bring about new
procedures that I felt would help the game
and all of the clubs as a group.. . . Some of
the things that I feel I helped bring about
were the College Rule, the free agent draft,
the Fall Instructional Leagues, the Summer
Rookie Leagues, divisional play, the desig­
nated hitter, the general manager’s meetings
(Joe Brown of the Pirates and I were the cochairmen of the first such meeting, which
was held in Ligonier, Pennsylvania), central
scouting, and procedures for the expansion
drafts___
And the year ended on a happy note
when I was selected by my peers as The
Sporting News' “Executive of the Year,”
both for my work with the commissioner
and for the fruits of my work for the Orioles.
[MacPhail was president and general man­
ager of the Baltimore Orioles 1959-65.] It
was a good feeling to win the award my
father had won while with the Dodgers, the
year I graduated from college.
Executive Vice President and General
Manager, Yankees, 1967-73
The idea of the Yankees moving out of
New York City was something I would
prefer not even to contemplate___The city
of New York had built a brand new stadium
for the Mets. Shouldn’t they be willing to do
something to keep the Yankees and Giants
in New York City? John Lindsay was sym­
pathetic and anxious not to lose the sports
teams. He talked in terms of appropriating
an amount of money for Yankee Stadium
equal to that which had been spent to
construct Shea Stadium. Eventually it was
decided that the city would take over Yankee
Stadium completely, refurbish it, improve
the traffic patterns, and provide additional
parking. The estimated cost was $25 million,
though I assumed Lindsay and his people
suspected that the final cost would exceed
this by quite a bit. Today, they say the total
figure was $100 million, but that includes

Above: D uring his year as assistant to the
baseball commissioner, Bowie Kuhn, M acPhail
was chosen “executive o f the yea r” by The
Sporting News. Facing page: Casey Stengel
returned to Yankee Stadium on O ld Tim ers’
D ay in 1970, along with MacPhail, to have
his uniform No. 37 retired

highway ramps, parking garages, and some
improvements to the general area. It is not a
figure out of line with the cost of other
modem baseball stadia and, in my opinion
at least, was a very wise investment for the
city of New York.. ..
My role in the refurbishing was the re­
sponsibility for the playing field, bull pens,
dugouts, clubhouses, etc., and for negotia­
tions of the lease provisions with the city___
I think we ultimately negotiated a lease
that was fair financially to both team and
city. In addition, we were able to retain
control of the ground crew; to retain the
natural grass surface; to keep the stadium
measurements and layout proper for baseball
(the fact that the Giants had gone through
with the move to New Jersey facilitated
this); to give the baseball schedule prece­
dence and protect the field from the schedul­
ing of events too close to baseball games; to
arrange seating and fences in a way to best
prevent interference with play on the field;
and to make several other arrangements in
the best interest of the team.
23

MacPhail, left, and Louisville Slugger representative
Pee Wee Reese present a Silver B at award to George
B rett fo r winning the 1980 batting championship.

President, American League, 1974-83
The first challenge for me, as league
president, was to conduct league meetings.
Imagine a group that consisted at various
times of Bill Veeck, Charlie Finley, Vernon
Stouffer, Calvin Griffith, Gene Autry, Ed­
ward Bennett Williams, Jerry Hoffberger,
Danny Kaye, Bob Short, George Steinbrenner, Hank Greenberg, and a few others
whose names are less well known nationally,
but at times could be even more of a problem
in meetings. The meetings had pretty much
gotten out of hand in Joe’s latter years,
primarily because some people simply en­
joyed hearing themselves talk. At one of my
first meetings, I produced a three-minute
sand clock and instituted a rule whereby the
chair would interrupt any speaker who had
not finished when the sand ran out. After a
few meetings, people got the idea and I was
able to dispense with the clock.. ..
There were other franchise problems in
baseball, and the commissioner appointed a
joint league committee to seek the best over­
all solution for them .. . . The best territory

available was Toronto. The people there had
originally been interested in obtaining a
National League franchise because that pro­
vided a natural rivalry with Montreal. The
National League had considered Toronto as
a replacement franchise for both San Diego
and San Francisco but new ownership kept
both of those franchises in place. We had
agreed to stand by and let the National
League have Toronto if they had immediate
plans for it, but by now Toronto was tired of
being romanced and dropped by the Na­
tional League. The National League asked
the commissioner to place a moratorium on
any expansion moves not contributing to a
solution of the Washington and Seattle
problems. The American League opposed
any moratorium and the commissioner there­
fore did not impose one. By now, the
American League was intent on securing the
best territory available to pair with Seattle
and with the authorization of our league I
inaugurated talks with representatives from
Toronto.
At this point, we were running counter to

SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

the wishes of Commissioner Kuhn. He had
a different objective—a franchise for Wash­
ington. He felt baseball had given assurances
to political figures in Washington that Wash­
ington would probably get the next available
franchise. He knew Baltimore would not
permit an American League franchise to
move into Washington as it was within their
territorial limits. So his efforts for Washing­
ton had to be wedded to the National
League. And the best way to get the National
League to admit Washington was also to
give it Toronto. This was not acceptable to
the American League or to me. Our league
did not feel that it was a party to any
promises to Washington. I hated to oppose
Bowie but the issue was crucial for our
league and I had the 100 percent backing of
our members. Bowie did not give up easily
(and later actually threatened to resign be­
cause of the lack ofjdub support on this
issue), but the American League owners and
Toronto held firm and the city became a
member of the American League. It was
possibly the best thing I ever did for the
league.. . .
Equally troublesome was the matter of
umpiring. Umpires are human and they do
miss calls, though the percentage of correct
calls is higher than we have any right to
expect. When your team is losing, however,
every close call that goes against you appears
a bad call and “bad” calls (right or wrong)
are hard to take with equanimity___Some­
times umpires, as a group, develop a defen­
sive way of thinking and it gets to be the
rallying cry within the profession not to take
any guff from anybody. To managers,
coaches, and players this translates as an
over-aggressive, chip-on-the-shoulder type
of attitude. Although it has to happen in
some instances, I didn’t like to see people get
thrown out of games—especially pitchers. I
liked to see umpires walk away from trouble
and not have “rabbit ears,” picking up every
little barb from the dugout__ I didn’t make
any friends with our umpires in trying to sell
this approach. I realized that I was asking
them to be a little more than human, but that
is what a good umpire has to be—a little
better than hum an.. ..
It is definitely a shock to go from being
a general manager of a team and trying to
maintain a rational outlook about umpires
to being the president of the league and
worrying about umpire miscalls. Seldom it
seems does an umpire blow a call to give a
team an extra out and have the next man
pop out to end the inning. It seems that
when an umpire errs it often leads to the
game-winning run. You knew which clubs
you would hear from on every controversial

FEBRUARY 1990

call, which managers would go crazy on the
field, and which owners would go crazy on
the phone. Weaver and Martin easily led the
managers in that regard, and Steinbrenner
won going away among the owners. (Once
George called me in New York from Tampa
in the middle of the game to scream about
a call. I knew the game wasn’t being televised
in Tampa and asked him how he knew the
umpire had been wrong. He said he had
been listening to Phil Rizzuto on the radio.)
Steinbrenner also used to send tapes down
to our office on a regular basis—tapes that
were supposed to show umpire errors. In
ninety percent of the cases the plays were so
close you couldn’t tell from the tape whether
the umpire was right or wrong. This was
true even after viewing it over and over on
slow or stop motion. George was not alone
however. Calvin Griffith could also get
worked up, but he never called you. He
saved it until he saw you and then recounted
a whole series of questionable decisions.
Buzzie Bavasi was known to call and on one
occasion Gene Autry interrupted a discus­
sion on the budget at a league meeting to
complain about an umpire.. . .
In July I had to take my wife, Gwen, to
Florida to the Bascom-Palmer Institute at
the University of Miami for an eye operation.
I had just come back from the hospital when
my son Allen called me from New York to
find out how things were going. Before he
rang off he said, “I think you ought to know
that George Brett hit a home run with two
outs in the ninth in the game today to put the
Royals ahead, but that the umpire threw out
the home run and called Brett out for having
too much pine tar on his bat.” I knew right
then that we had a hot potato on our hands.
That was July 24th. I was back in New York
on the 26th and found the media had really
zeroed in on the story. I also found that an
expected protest from the Royals had been
filed and was on my desk. I listened to both
sides. I talked to Steinbrenner in Tampa and
suggested that the Yankees file anything they
might wish me to consider before I ruled on
the Kansas City protest. I talked to Dick
Butler and Bill Haller, our umpire supervi­
sors. I talked to some members of the Rules
Committee to be sure I understood the in­
tent of the committee when the rule was last
amended. And, of course, I studied the rule
itself and all regulations and precedents that
related to it. I then sat up at home until about
3 A.M. writing a draft of my decision. It was
not a hard decision for me to make for, in
my opinion, the rule, the intent of the rule,
and past precedents clearly indicated the
umpires had erred. (I felt bad for the umpires
for the rule was not well written and is con­

fusing.) Just as important, as far as I was
concerned, was that my instincts told me
that it simply was not right to erase the home
run. Pine tar did not aid in propelling that
ball out of the ballpark. George Brett did it
and it would be wrong not to recognize it
and to take a possible victory away from
Kansas City. It was a case again of trying to
see that games were decided on the field and
not by technicalities in the rules. My decision
reinstated the home run and made the game
a suspended game with two out in the top
of the ninth and Kansas City leading 5-4.
The teams would have to play four more
outs to finalize the game. The next day, I
polished up the draft of the decision and
released it to the clubs and the press that
afternoon.. ..
The New York press was mixed; the outof-town papers generally supportive. Some
Yankee fans were livid. I felt sorry for the
poor people in our office who took their
calls and were subjected to a lot of irate and
obscene language. Steinbrenner was off the
wall and told the press that I might have to
move from New York City to Missouri. In
any event, I was satisfied I had made the
proper decision and I can report today that
three New York law schools made the play
and decision a study project in their classes
and all agreed with my findings.
President, Major League Player
Relations Committee, 1983-85
There was another major league meeting
in Dallas in early January [1986] to which
they insisted I come and on the night before
the meeting I was honored with a special
dinner. I was moved by much that went on
that night but particularly with the commis­
sioner’s announcement that a $100,000 schol­
arship had been set up at Swarthmore
College in my name. That scholarship, plus
the American League’s establishment of the
Most Valuable Player Award in the League
Championship Series in my name, are hon­
ors of permanence that mean very much to
me.
My 9 Innings, An Autobiography of 50
Years in Baseball, by Lee MacPhail 39, was
published in 1989 by M eckler Books. These
excerpts, taken from a variety o f points in
MacPhaiTs baseball career, may accountfo r
approximately one at-bat in his nine innings.
His first wife, Jane Hamilton 38, died in
1972. The couple had four sons, theyoungest
o f whom is now general manager o f the
Minnesota Twins. MacPhail and his second
wife, Gwen, live in New York City.

25

£ COLLEGE
A Personal View of
Diversity
by Maurice G. Eldridge ’61
Associate Director o f
Development
I came to Swarthmore as a
student in 1957, naive in my
expectations of what it would
be like in this liberal, Quaker
college. I had come from a
boarding school that was inte­
grated far beyond any token
degree and sought diversity
way ahead of the times when
it became fashionable or
legally pressing to do so. I was
used to moving with ease
among people of many differ­
ent backgrounds and experi­
ences, people of color, people
who had experienced the con­
centration camps of Hitler’s
Europe, kids from all around
the country and from every
economic level. I was shocked
to find so much less diversity
at Swarthmore (the word was
not even used then) and deter­
mined to help do something
about it, but I was also ready
to take advantage of whatever
the College would offer me in
education and in cultural and
social enrichment. I made
friends, and my friends, prob­
ably more than I, but not con­
sciously, experienced a taste of
the diverse through me and
the few other people of color
on campus.
There simply was not
enough of it, though, to go
around. Or so it seemed to
me. There were no black fac­
ulty and no black adminis­
trators but lots of black people
employed in the service jobs.
In my first year at Swarth­
more, I was the only black
American student, and there
was one African student in
each class. Diversity was con­
centrated in a handful of stu­
dents. I was the tabula rasa,
26

the screen, on which many
students of good and ill will
projected their images and
expectations of what blacks
(Negroes, then) should be.
Looking back over the in­
tervening years, taking note of
the changes that have occurred
here, I begin to suspect that
there was, if I had known how
to view it then, much more to
diversity than met the eye.
Now, almost 30 years later, I
have returned to Swarthmore.
My perspective on diversity,
perhaps more mature, has
changed in contemporary
Swarthmore.
Like an object in the night
sky, diversity, in my opinion,
should be viewed from more
than one perspective. I hope
that students do not come to
college simply to associate
with other people who may
appear to be just like them.
Rather, as a part of what one
expects of an education, stu­
dents might seek out those
who may differ from them in
one or more significant ways
in order to broaden the range
of friendships, as well as ex­
tend the range of educational
development.
Of course, until students
grow close to those around
them, it proves difficult for
them to discern similarities
and differences that are real
rather than merely apparent. If
one seeks out only people of
the same color or other visible
icon of identity, then the
chances to discover similarities
with others who lack that
superficial trait is narrowed if
not lost altogether. It is also
likely that students will dis­
cover and begin to appreciate
differences between self and
others when they have a wider

range of friends and acquain­
tances. A black student, for
instance, might realize more
common ground than ex­
pected with someone not
black based on similar up­
bringing or economic circum­
stances. Certainly such a black
student may assume much in
common with other blacks
simply by virtue of being
black (e.g., racism is a nearly
universal experience for
blacks); but the chance to
question this and make dis­
coveries is greater when the
student’s circle of movement
embraces a more diverse
group.
Group identity is a fine
source of comfort, especially
in a perceived alien environ­
ment when one wants and
needs to feel protection and
nurturance. It is important,
however, to establish and ex­
plore one’s personal and indi­
vidual identity, taking the
greater risks that will ensure

growth and positive develop­
ment. This means that one
must take advantage of the
great variety of individual cul­
tures that abound in any set­
ting where people come from
different families, communi­
ties, states, countries, churches,
or schools. We are all differ­
ent, one from another, and we
all embody different aspects of
the same and different cul­
tures—particularly those of us
who are Americans. How
much effort do we make to
reach out to other individuals
to discover who they are and
how we might relate to that
discovery? It is an appalling
waste to come to college and
segregate oneself according to
assumed commonalities and
never to explore beyond them.
Were last year’s Soviet ex­
change students, for example,
to be viewed and approached
as whites or as Soviets? Were
they the same because they
both come from the Soviet

M aurice G. Eldridge ’61
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

T

H

Union? No. One was a Mus­
covite and one a Georgian
from Tbilisi. One was a com­
puter major and the other a
mathematician, both with a
wide range of interests and
experiences beyond their dis­
ciplines. What can we learn
from them? The possibilities
are endless, but not, for exam­
ple, if these two students are
perceived merely as white.
The college experience, at
its best, transforms the stu­
dent. Most of us know that we
value highly the education we
gain outside of classes and se­
minars and consider it to be
as important as the more for- *
mal and structured part of our
education. The problem I see
is that often this extracurricu­
lar learning is proscribed and
limited by our unshakable pre­
conceptions about our differ­
ences and by our unwilling­
ness to break through these
barriers. We grow, I think,
only when we risk encounters
with what may be new and
different. We give away some
of our self and are renewed;
we take on something of the
other, and we are strength­
ened. Perhaps the time has
come, at last, to open our
eyes, minds, and senses to one
another and, finally, to experi­
ence for real the diversity that
we create here together.
I do not argue for the status
quo at Swarthmore. I believe
that the College must continue
to work for permanent institu­
tional change in order to re­
alize its commitment to diver­
sity in the composition of the
student, faculty, and staff
populations. Swarthmore must
be allowed—and forced—to
do this as a community, one
that consciously enlarges itself
by pursuing and experiencing
diversity through definitions
and in a context not rooted in
our current sets of prejudices,
narrowly perceived self-inter­
ests, and group identities.
Returning here, I am no
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tions of Swarthmore; I am
also aware that things have
changed for the better. The
opportunity to participate in
the life of this community at a
time when it begins to take
significant steps forward in
achieving diversity is exciting.
And I am gratified to realize
that I can be another positive
force, a voice for continued

change and development,
rather than another lonely,
embittered voice crying out in
a wilderness of official disin­
terest. The fact that Swarth­
more has made a commitment
to grow as a community and
to lead as an institution ener­
gizes me. This allows me to
operate, here and now, as a
complete person.

Minority Faculty:
When “they” becom e “we”
There are more African
Americans now serving vari­
ous departments in tenuretrack positions than at any
previous time in the history of
Swarthmore College, accord­
ing to Provost James En­
gland—nine to be exact, or
6.5 percent of the current 138
full-time, tenure-track faculty
members. That’s one faculty
member short of the 1990
goal of 10, an objective estab­
lished in 1979 by the College’s
faculty, acting on a report of
the Ad Hoc Coordinating
Committee on Black Con­
cerns.
“Reaching this goal is an
extremely important symbolic
act,” states England, “because
it changes perceptions. It
doesn’t create significant
enough change in reality—
we’d need, say, 25 African
Americans on the faculty to
do that. But with this number,
we are now being viewed as
serious about recruiting mi­
nority faculty members and
encouraging diversity.”
England hopes, too, that
meeting and surpassing the
goal established by the ad hoc

committee will help the Col­
lege recruit more Asian
American and Hispanic
American faculty members.
There are currently three
Asian American, two His­
panic American, and one
other minority faculty mem­
ber in tenure-track positions
on campus.
While the number of Afri­
can American faculty mem­
bers at the College compares
favorably to the number found
at peer institutions, England
doesn’t dwell on that fact. His
excitement and animation
appear to stem not so much
from numbers or prospects for
the coming year, as from
crossing what he calls “a pro­
found psychological barrier.
“Swarthmore, entering the
1990s, is now becoming an
affirming place for African
American and other minority
faculty members to be. And
for minority students, as well
—that’s becoming increasingly
clear to everybody. When
people think of Swarthmore,
they should no longer think of
minorities as a ‘they.’ The
‘they’ who used to be minori­
ties on this campus are no
longer a ‘they,’ they’re a ‘we.’ ”

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A comparison with the per­
centages of minority faculty
members in other colleges
proves illuminating. At the
beginning of the current aca­
demic year, Amherst reported
4 percent of its tenure-track
faculty to be African Ameri­
can. Brown reported 3.1 per­
cent, Carleton 2 percent,
Haverford 6.6 percent, Oberlin 5.7 percent, and Williams
3.5 percent.
According to England, one
reason for Swarthmore’s rela­
tive success is a change in its
traditional willingness to let
specific curriculum require­
ments be the final “arbiter” in
hiring.
“We’re doing two things,”
he explains. “We’re always
seeking the highest quality
person available, but now
we’re taking the opportunity
to hire him or her in a field in
which our interest lies gener­
ally. We’re letting the goal be
the arbiter, in other words,
rather than the curriculum
requirement.”
This carpe diem philoso­
phy, says England, stems from
the willingness of the College
to take on some additional
faculty members, if necessary,
in order to recruit high-quality
minority faculty when they
become available in fields of
general interest to the College.
“When friends, or alumni,
or students see a minority per­
son they think is qualified to
teach at this college, they can
now encourage that person to
contact us, whether a position
has been advertised or not,”
he explains. “Word is getting
around.”
One of the most successful
programs to promote in­
creased hiring of minorities, in
England’s view, has been the
Minority Fellows Program, an
outgrowth of the Consortium
for a Strong Minority Pres­
ence at Liberal Arts Colleges
begun at Swarthmore in 1987.
The Minority Fellows Pro­
gram provides for the hiring of
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minority faculty members
who are recent Ph.D.s or who
have completed all graduate
requirements for the Ph.D.
except a dissertation.
“As a result of the consor­
tium, we have attracted some
absolutely splendid individuals
who wouldn’t think twice,
otherwise, about coming
here,” England reveals. “My
hope is that if we can’t keep
them—and I hope we can—
another small, liberal arts col­
lege will attract them.”
Another source of recom­
mendations of minority fac­
ulty has been the Minority
Affairs Committee of the
Swarthmore Alumni Council,
chaired by Alice Handsaker
Kidder ’63. The committee,
working with the provost, uses
various networks to inform
potential minority faculty can­
didates about the College. The
committee also invites alumni
who wish to join, offer ideas,
or obtain a guidebook to call
or write: Alice Kidder, 239
Randall Road, Berlin, MA
01503 (tel: 508-838-2586).
—Roger Williams
Topping it all off
The traditional tree “topping
off,” a ceremony said to assure
good luck in the raising of a
new building, occurred at the
Performing Arts Center in
December, when the last steel
beam in the superstructure
was set in place.
A festive crowd of students,
faculty, staff, and the Board of
Managers watched the spec­
tacle of the white beam,
signed by any member of the
College community who
wished to put pen to paint,
raised with tree, flag, and
balloons to the pinnacle of the
project.
Following completion of
steel construction, concrete
decks were poured in the
building in December and
masonry work was begun.
The building remains on
schedule to open to students
in the spring term 1991.
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Topping off other projects
in the planning stages for
1990-91, according to Carole
Deddy, associate vice presi­
dent for operations, are elec­
trical distribution and rewiring
to upgrade the College’s aging
and limited power, a recon­
struction of the 25-year-old
Sharpies kitchen, the addition
of two new floors and an
elevator at the north end of
Beardsley, and the addition of
improved smoke and fire de­
tection systems to six dormi­
tories and Worth Health
Center.
Just the FAX
Swarthmore College’s use of
FAX these days includes
accepting requests by FAX for
official transcripts. But the
College cannot return tran­
scripts by FAX because they
would lack the College seal
and an official signature.
Alumni requesting tran­
scripts will receive them in the
mail, says College Registrar
Jane Mullins ’50.

The last steel beam, with ceremonial tree and flag, is set in the PAC.
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

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Physician, heal thyself
According to a majority of
589 physicians who studied at
Swarthmore, Haverford, or
Franklin and Marshall College
between 1955 and 1982,
many physicians lack crucial
“people skills” because of a
neglect of courses in the
humanities during their under­
graduate educations.
The respondents were
queried in an extensive survey
by President David Fraser and
Leah Smith, director of insti­
tutional research.
The survey was published
in the September 1989 issue
of Academic Medicine, a
journal of the Association of
American Medical Colleges,
and summarized in news
articles elsewhere.
Some 73 percent of the
respondents had majored in
science, and many indicated
they had taken an excessive
number of science courses that
proved needless in their work.
Had they been guaranteed
admission to medical school,
31 percent said they would
have majored in the humani­
ties and 17 percent in the
social sciences.
Fraser, who majored in
biology at Haverford before
becoming an epidemiologist,
noted in a New York Times
article about the survey that he
now wishes he had majored in
philosophy.
The survey is the first of its
kind assessing the views of
physicians about their educa­
tions as a result of an increas­
ing gap of understanding
between the public and the
medical profession.
Aid for AIDS
The Alice Paul Women’s Cen­
ter sponsored a College-wide
recognition of National AIDS
Awareness Day, Friday,
December 1, in Parrish par­
lors. Students, faculty mem­
bers, and staff members joined
each other to recognize pub­
licly the danger and suffering
brought on by the disease.
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Participants were able to
trace the outline of their hands
onto a quilt and to write their
thoughts: “Today we weep to
show that we are strong,”
noted one student. Another
wrote, “We hold you in the
light, our friends and friends
of friends, who will never
grow old. We miss you.”
Further Alum ni
Directory errata
In response to the Alumni
Directory errata listed in the
November issue of the College
Bulletin, several alumni have
pointed out additional errors:
• Greta Belshaw Roderick,
wife of Marcy F. Roderick
’35, is listed as deceased. She
is alive and well.
• Edwin B. Pettet ’37 is in­
correctly listed as an architect.
He is a producer/director.
• John Greenly ’69 is incor­
rectly listed as a medical re­
searcher. He is a plasma
physicist.
• Omitted was Richard G.
Summers ’80, 2207 Woodview Ct., Apt. #2, Madison,
WI 53713. He is a molecular
biologist.
• Joseph L. Finesinger ’58
was omitted from the de­
ceased list for the class.
• Listed incorrectly in the
1924 deceased list is Davis,
Helen (Mulloy). It should read
Davis, H. Louise (Mulloy).
Diversity retreat helps
students
In a move to prevent racial
incidents similar to those that
have occurred on other college
and university campuses,
Swarthmore College under­
took a two-day immersion in
issues of diversity during the
winter break.
About 115 students signed
up to participate in the proj­
ect, returning to campus early
to take part in a retreat the
College called “Exploring a
World of Difference.” Partici­
pants met in groups of 15 or
20 to consider questions of

diversity both on campus and
in society.
Dean Janet Dickerson ex­
plained that the program was
offered to foster respect and
tolerance through a variety of
means. “We hope the confer­
ence caused students to reflect
about their personal values
and behaviors and stimulated
fresh understanding and
acceptance,” she said.
Each group of students was
led by two facilitators—one
from the College community
and one expert in the field of
intergroup relations. The stu­
dents began with exercises
designed to build trust among
themselves and then moved to
discuss the effects of age, cul­
tural, ethnic, religious, and
sexual differences on attitudes,
values, and behaviors. They
went on to examine construc­
tive and destructive communi­
cation patterns and to discuss

stereotypes that restrict com­
munication at Swarthmore.
One of the more interesting
discussions, according to
Dickerson, questioned
whether excellence and diver­
sity can coexist. The issue is
prompted by perceived prob­
lems caused by aggressive re­
cruitment of minority students,
some of whom may not have
had the same rigorous aca­
demic preparation and intel­
lectual opportunities as many
other Swarthmore students.
The winter break was
chosen as the time to hold the
retreat, Dickerson said, be­
cause the planning committee
felt the students should not be
preoccupied with schoolwork.
She added that the retreat
represents a strong commit­
ment by the College to main­
tain harmony and understand­
ing on an increasingly diverse
campus.

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"Who’s afraid of Notre
Dam e?!” and other
sporting questions
Football (5-5): At the
hard-hitting end of Fran
Meagher’s five-year tour as
head football coach, gridironically, his team proved a de­
cided threat to bigger, more
reputable teams, achieving a
.500 season that could well
have gone 7-2 with a few
breaks, according to Meagher,
and suffering several losses by
narrow margins.
Co-captain Marshall
Happer ’90, a North Caro­
linian who threw all of his
6-foot-3-inch, 240-pound
skills into the season as an
offensive lineman, was named
by the American Football
Coaches Association to the
Kodak All-American Team
for Division II and Division
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Swarthmore’s 110-year
football history.
Not to be outstripped, New
Jersey senior Bill Martin, a
5-foot-10-inch, 175-pound
running back, won the
Brooks-Irvine Award for aca­
demic and athletic excellence.
The award honors former high
school students from South
Jersey playing as seniors for
their colleges or universities.
Four members of the Gar­
net Tide were named to the
Centennial Conference AllConference First Team, and
one received an honorable
mention to add extra-point
accolades to the successful
season.
Men’s Soccer (11-3-4):
Curt Lauber’s heady coaching
and a number of smashing
performances by the Garnet
resulted in a superb season for
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ranked among the best in the
division. The inspiring 2-1
defeat of Haverford in the
final regular season game
turned to acute disappoint­
ment at the MAC divisional
playoffs, when the Garnet was
nipped 3-4 by Johns Hopkins
in a shoot-out after 60 min­
utes of overtime play.
Among other stand-out
players on a young team that
started only one senior, Mike
Hitchman ’91 earned the most
points, a combination of goals
and assists, with a total of 13,
and Lenny Nathan ’92 was
named to the All-Conference
First Team of the Middle
Atlantic Conference.
Women’s Soccer (9-8-3):
Kristen Tucker ’90 led the
women booters with a team
high of eight personal goals.
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Gettysburg, Dickinson, and
Bryn Mawr.
Volleyball (15-9): Defeat­
ing Haverford three games to
one proved only one of the
highlights for a winning, wellbalanced team that deserved
to win the Division II PAIAW
playoffs at Allentown (even if
the team did win by cancella­
tion). Coach Dale Strawbridge looks to take next
year’s playoffs by storm,
despite the loss to graduation
of All-League star Barbara
Schaefer ’90.
Field Hockey (4-10-1): A
difficult and disappointing
season proved more successful
than the record suggests, as
the Garnet’s defensive game
improved significantly in the
latter half of the season, when
several games were lost by
narrow margins. Next year’s
team promises to benefit

Bigger opponents underestim ated the toughness and teamwork o f the 1989 Garnet Tide.
30

SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

strongly from experience and
conditioning, despite the loss
to graduation of co-captain
Whitney Nelson, who received
First Team All Middle Atlan­
tic Conference honors and
was named to the Pennsylva­
nia All-Region Second Team.
Women’s Cross Country
(11-0-1): Anchored by Dayna
Baily ’91 and Kitty Keller ’90,
the fleet women ran off with
the Middle Atlantic Confer­
ence Championship, soundly
defeating 20 other schools in­
cluding arch-rival Haverford.
At the NCAA regionals the
following week, the enduring
Garnet managed to finish a
close third behind Allegheny
and Trenton State. Represent­
ing Swarthmore in the na­
tional championship, Baily
placed 69th out of 136 run­
ners in fierce competition,
concluding a brilliant season
for the Garnet.
Men’s Cross Country
(9-2): The young team strode
to an excellent record that
concluded with a sixth-place
finish (out of 22 teams) at the
MAC championships. Leading
the Garnet to outpace such
worthy opponents as Johns
Hopkins, Muhlenberg, and
Western Maryland, Paul Har­
rison ’90 finished 16th overall
in a field of 110 runners.
And Anally: The pressure’s
on (but what else is new at
Swarthmore?): The men’s
tennis team has been ranked
No. 2 in the country.
Competition points in this
year’s intense battle between
Swarthmore and Haverford
for the coveted Hood trophy
stand at three apiece.

Top: K itty K eller ’90 helped lead
the Garnet to the M AC confer­
ence championship. Bottom:
Coach Larry Ehmer ’82 with
winning team members (left to
right): L iz Dem psey ’93, Laura
Kirkman ’93, M argaret Cooley
’91, Carrie Berman ’93, K itty
K eller ’90, Dayna Baily ’91,
and Jessica Rabb ’92.
FEBRUARY 1990

Co-captain Whitney Nelson ’90 received the Friends o f
Swarthmore A thletic Award fo r the second yea r in a
field hockey season that offered sticky challenges.

SQUATTERS’ RIGHTS WRONG
TO THE EDITOR:
I am accustomed to coming across strange
things in the Swarthmore College Bulletin.
I therefore cannot claim that Class of ’69
graduate Don Mitchell’s tale of “Squatters’
Rights” in the November 1989 issue sur­
prised me. It merely stirred in me, as a loyal
alumnus, a profound sense of embarrassment
for the College___
I’m not sure what lesson, if any, can be
learned from Mr. Mitchell’s thoroughly unapologetic apologia. Perhaps that the genre
of rural belles lettres, once graced by such
luminaries as Thoreau, Richard Jeffries, and
E.B. White, has just about struck rock bot­
tom in Don Mitchell. Perhaps that you can
take a hippie out of Swarthmore but can
never take Swarthmore out of the hippie. Or
perhaps Mr. Mitchell offers nothing more
than a cautionary example of what lies in
store for a fellow who goes through life with
an exaggerated penchant for beavers.
EDWARD J. GEORGE ’87
Morgantown, W.Va.

FARM FACTS
TO THE EDITOR:
I want to thank Grant Heilman [’41] for
his fine presentation in the Bulletin on “The
Changing Faces of American Farming.”
The photos were superb, and the text was
centered on the appropriate theme, getting
enough to eat___
My own pet suggestion is a technical one
on growth statistics: It is simply to state them
in terms of annual percentage growth. That
way, although less dramatic, they are greatly
enriched in comparability and meaningful­
ness, with each item reinforcing the rest.
Thus, with an hour of farm labor produc­
ing 16 times the food it did 80 years ago, the
growth rate was 3.5 percent per annum.
The growth in farm size from 252 acres
to 455 acres in 32 years is at a rate of 1.8
percent per annum.
The corn yield per acre grew from 72
bushels to 106 bushels from 1970 to 1984,
a growth of 2.8 percent per annum.
The average milk production of cows was
10,000 pounds in 1970 and 13,000 pounds
in 1984, a growth of 1.9 percent per an­
num___
32

Even in this scanty sample, a pattern
emerges: The high productivity growth fits
the mentioned idea of wide application of
machine power. But the full benefit of the
comparisons made possible depends on data
from many countries in many areas, a big
task consisting of rewriting the history of
agriculture in terms of growth---Starvation: Heilman’s judgment of the
dire predictions of 15 to 20 years ago is
entirely accurate; but the starvation term is
inappropriate. It does not exist here.
But there is malnutrition, although that is
not mainly an agricultural problem but an
economic and social one—lack of money or
of proper means to get it. Its solution,
though, might now be assumed as a duty of
society, demanding a wholly new look at
economics and a new will to find and do
what’s right.
W.R. JONES ’42
Winter Park, Fla.

SOUR NOTE
TO THE EDITOR:
Peter Gram Swing, in his valedictory
(November 1989 issue), seems to equate
quality in the Music Department with the
doctorates held by its members. I hate to see
the College give in to the tyranny of the
diploma. Making the doctorate a require­
ment for college teachers in other fields is
misguided at best, but in the arts it is simply
grotesque. Professor Swing’s remarks remind
me of Goethe: “You now clank your chains
and tell yourself it’s music.” Doesn’t sound
like music to me.
DAVID HAPGOOD ’47
New York, N.Y.

PAEAN
TO THE EDITOR:
As ^-graduate of Dartmouth, Harvard,
and the University of London and a profes­
sor of Chinese at the University of Pennsyl­
vania, I wish to congratulate you on the
November issue of the Bulletin. Over the
years, I have had the opportunity to read
alumni magazines from these fine schools
and dozens of others, but your most recent
effort is the best I have ever seen. Without
cataloguing all of its virtues, I shall mention
only two that display Swarthmore’s attention
to real substance. The “Paean” to workers
and their tools on the inside front cover
literally moved me to tears. To think that
intellectuals would actually be aware of,
much less genuinely appreciate, those who
provide for our material needs is tremen­
dously reassuring. The informative article on
American agriculture also shows that you
are attuned to what is basic.
Not wanting to commit the sin of writing

an overly long letter to the editor, I resist the
impulse to detail how I discovered something
of value on virtually every page. Suffice it to
say that you have only increased my great
respect for your college as one of our coun­
try’s premier institutions of higher learning.
VICTOR H. MAIR
University of Pennsylvania

JEOPARDY!
TO THE EDITOR:
I have been amused by the article about
the Jeopardy! contestant and the follow-up
letters. I was the very first Champion of
Champions in Jeopardyl’s first year on tele­
vision, now 25 years ago. The editor wrote
a piece on it for the alumni magazine then,
too.
TERRY THOMPSON ’57
Berkeley Heights, N.J.
Editor’s note: According to our count,
Swarthmore now numbers three Jeopardy!
winners among its distinguished alumni (as
well as three Nobel laureates, it should be
added). Philip Price ’52 became the 95th
undefeated champion in 1971. The most
recent winner, Cigus Vanni ’72, reached the
five-day Tournament o f Champions last fall
but lost in the second round

HOME SCHOOLING
TO THE EDITOR:
I read the article on home schooling [August
Bulletin] with interest, since we are home
schooling two of our four children. I think
you weren’t entirely accurate in stating:
“There are formidable difficulties . . . that
make home schooling impossible for some
families and unappealing for others. Single­
parent families are logistically excluded from
the option unless the parent does not work;
in two-parent families, one parent must
remain at home . . . without producing a
second income.”
Such a statement does not take into
account the fact that single parents (often
working) do home school, nor does it recog­
nize the incredible flexibility possible for
home schoolers. A recent letter in Growing
Without Schooling explained how one single
(working) mother manages, and there are
other creative options, including home busi­
ness (which is also a very real possibility
many families with two parents are using for
their second—or first—income).
It’s true that a big, real commitment is
necessary to home school, but I think there
are many more options than your article
portrayed. For us, the advantages far out­
weigh the difficulties.
SUSAN LOUIS EIPPER ’80
Lititz, Pa.
SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

Speaking With Several Tongues: K en M oskow itz
From a modest beginning as
an au pair/cook in Paris and
later Berlin, West Germany,
Ken Moskowitz ’76 years later
found himself in Budapest,
Hungary, one of a number of
key hosts for the historic visit
of President George Bush,
especially effective because of
his fluency in the Hungarian
language. As press and cul­
tural attaché for the United
States Information Agency in
the United States Embassy in
Budapest, with more than
three years experience in the
post, Moskowitz was assigned
a wide variety of projects to
facilitate a successful visit. He
prepared a press guide to the
city for the White House press
corps, a booklet containing
capsule biographies of partici­
pating officials, histories of
sites to be visited, practical
information on Hungarian
communication and transpor­
tation networks, and the final
schedule of the visit.

“Many of my preparation
assignments stemmed from my
relatively lengthy tenure in
Budapest,” says Moskowitz.
“Most satisfying was my re­
cruitment of Hungarian and
American college students to
meet with President Bush for a
half hour on July 12. Simi­
larly,” says Moskowitz, “be­
cause of my familiarity with
Budapest and its people, I was
asked to recruit and select
photographers and musicians

50

for several events during the
visit.
“My work during the visit
itself was in some ways less
glamorous than the prepara­
tion. On the day of Bush’s
arrival, I was at a truck depot
completing arrangements for a
convoy of 11 trucks and driv­
ers. Then I stood in the rain
awaiting the arrival of Presi­
dent Bush and a plane full of
journalists and their luggage.
I was responsible for the safe
travel of the luggage through
security and to hotels.”
(An extracurricular activity
for Moskowitz amid the fran­
tic pace of preparation for the
Bush visit was addressing the
Swarthmore Alumni College
Abroad on board the Theodor
K oem er on the Danube when
it docked at Budapest in June
1989.)
Moskowitz’s path to the
USIA in Budapest was circu­
itous. “I was in no hurry to
get a career,” he says. After
graduating from Swarthmore
with majors in history and
English literature, he moved to
Washington, where he held a

remarkable series of odd jobs:
free-lance writer, temporary
office worker, usher at Ken­
nedy Center, manager of a
bicycle store for the American
Youth Hostels, manager of an
office for a local bicycle advo­
cacy group, and reporter for
Housing A ffairs, a weekly
newsletter. While a reporter,
he wrote and edited a 260page bicycle atlas— The
Greater Washington A rea
Bicycle A tlas, published in
1985 by the American Youth
Hostels and the Washington
Area Bicyclist Association.

talented linguist

Three Swarthmoreans play
their roles during President
Bush’s visit to Budapest:
Above, Ken M oskowitz 76,
press attache at the U.S.
Embassy; below, Robert
Zoellick 7 5 (left), counselor
o f the U.S. Departm ent o f
State; left, Sandra D em bski
73, ch ief o f the em bassy’s
economic section.
He achieved his goal of
getting to Europe to learn lan­
guages through an interna­
tional exchange organization
that found him a room with a

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SWARTHMORE COLLEGE BULLETIN

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ALUMNI COUNCIL

Putting your “real world” experience
to work for students
Swarthmore alumni have an extremely im­
portant role to play in helping students and
young alumni make the transition from college
to career. The Alumni Council extends its
sincere thanks.to the many alumni who have
been active in helping students in the past and
urges alumni who haven’t already become
involved to fill oht the coupon below and
return it to Tom Francis, director of the Career
Planning and Placement Office. Many of you
could provide much needed assistance in the
following ways:
Help Students Locate Jo b
Openings in Your Field
Although nearly 85 percent of last year’s
graduating seniors said that they planned to
enter graduate or professional school at some
point, only 25 percent said that they intended
to go directly to grad school after graduation.
Helping students find full-time jobs in their
chosen fields is therefore one of the Placement
Office’s most important responsibilities. But
according to Francis, the office benefits greatly
from alumni efforts to keep the College’s file
of job openings current. If you or your orga­
nization offers full-time positions to college
seniors or recent graduates, please let Francis
know. Information on summer jobs, fellow­
ships, and internships is equally vital. Listings
are kept on file at the Placement Office and
are also published in a biweekly newsletter
that is distributed to all students.
Note: While the Placement Office needs infor­
mation about all kinds o f jobs, it has a special
need fo r information on job opportunities in
thefollowing fields: writing, publishing, public
relations, advertising, not-for-profit and public
service, journalism, broadcasting, engineering,
public affairs, and research (both science and
social science).
Sponsor an Extern
Externships offer current students an oppor­
tunity to gain hands-on experience in a given
career field by spending part of a winter or
spring vacation working under the supervision
of an alumnus/a. Externships typically last for
a few days to a week, but they often provide
students with experience and contacts that

will encourage them to pursue further work
in a sponsor’s field. The Alumni Council,
which helped found the Externship Program
in 1972, hopes that you will consider whether
the nature and structure of your work would
permit you to take a Swarthmore student
under your professional wing for a working
business week.
Talk to Students About Your Career
Experiences
The Placement Office provides individual
career counseling for students and also main­
tains an extensive career resources library.
Although basic information on a multitude of
careers is available at the office, students
always benefit by being able to talk directly
with someone who has real-world experience
in a given field or industry.

A n d . . . the office is always looking for
relatively recent editions of professional direc­
tories (e.g., the Martindale-Hubbell directory
of attorneys). If your office gets annual re­
placements for such directories, Swarthmore
could use your old editions. Clippings from
trade magazines or local newspapers that
discuss career prospects in particular fields or
geographic regions are also exceptionally help­
ful. Send them to Tom Francis.
On behalf of the Alumni Council and the
rest of the College community, we thank
everyone who has helped the Placement Of­
fice in the past, and we hope that many
alumni will volunteer to help this year and in
the future by filling out and returning the
coupon below. — William C. Fredericks ’83
Chair, Career Counseling Committee
o f Alum ni Council

I----------------------------------------TO: Tom Francis, Director
Career Planning & Placement Office
Swarthmore College
500 College Avenue
Swarthmore, PA 19081-1397
I volunteer to assist Swarthmore students in career counseling and placement:
I have information
on full-time job
openings, fellowships,
internships, and/or
summer jobs. (Please
write or call Tom
Francis directly at 215328-8352 or you may
FAX information to
his attention at 215328-8673.)

1 1 I may be able to
sponsor an Extern.
(The Placement Office
will send you additional
information on the
Extern Program before
asking you to make any
commitment.)

| | Tom Francis may
refer students and young
alumni to me for further
information and
counseling regarding
careers in my field.

Name

Career Field(s):

Address

Present Job Title:

Phone No. (H)

Company or Employer:

(W)

Industry:

Cycle with Swarthmore this summer
Swarthm oreans of all ages and all bicycling abilities will find it difficult to choose between
these tw o trips. This is an opportunity to sample an exciting region on either coast at the
relaxed pace of a bicycle tour with Swarthm ore alum ni and friends.

Vermont Tour: July 2 2 -2 7
This tour combines all the reasons that Vermont has
become the premier area for bicycle touring in the
United States. It offers a wonderful balance: five very
different small country inns serving exceptionally
good food; spectacular scenery, from panoramic
views to uncrowded roads winding through peaceful
valleys; classic Vermont villages complete with white
church steeples and tempting antique shops; a variety
of lakes and streams offering daily swimming op­
portunities; and many other features that blend into
an unbeatable package. The 20- to 25-mile daily
distance of this tour has great appeal because of the
flexibility it offers for relaxing, sightseeing or, if you
choose, additional biking options.

California Tour:
July 2 9 -August 3
The California tour samples the popular attractions
of northern California. Cycle beneath the majestic
redwoods, tour the Korbel Champagne cellars, visit
wineries in the Napa Valley, spend a half day whitewater rafting, dip in hot springs and mud baths, and
venture by van into the Sierras to South Lake Tahoe.
There is variety offered also in the accommodations,
from hot springs resort, lodge, and historical hotel to
camping, with gear provided. The meals will range
from delicious campfire meals to sumptuous restau­
rant buffets to sunset patio barbecues. A luxury van
will be provided to transport participants and their
gear between sites, and there will be two van trans­
fers between regions to include as wide a variety
as a six-day trip can cover.

Alumni Office
Swarthmore College
Swarthmore, PA 19081
Please send more information about the 1990 Bike Tours.
Name------------------------------------------------ Class_____
Address_________ ______________________________
Telephone

1_____________

oth trips will offer bike rentals at a very
reasonable rate for the week, or bring your own
if your prefer. Tour sizes are limited, so use the
coupon to write for full details and register early.
Don’t miss this opportunity for a fun, relaxing travel
experience! For more information, send in the
coupon at left.

B