To Begin . . .

THESE REMEMBERANCES AND REFLECTIONS WERE UNDERTAKEN NOT through any desire of mine to write about the past but largely as a result of the urgings of my friends and colleagues. They seemed to feel that there was some magic that I could disclose about the years of my administration or that I ought to record some of my experiences and yarns that might not otherwise be preserved. As for the magic, there was none. By a set of fortuitous circumstances, I came to the presidency of Indiana University. These included parents who saw to it that I had a happy and wholesome youth and adolescence, the friendship of many people along the way who had confidence in me, and the fact that I was in place, so to speak, at the time President William Lowe Bryan decided to retire. Now, seen in perspective, the period in which I occupied the presidency of the university, for all of its difficulties (and there were many: a war, a recession, old tensions, traditional underfinancing), will probably be depicted as a golden era in higher education nationally and here as well.

Another reason for my attempting this book was Thomas D. Clark’s urging that I record my own perceptions of my administration. While writing the third volume of his history of the university, he reminded me from time to time that he was writing about the university’s history, not about me. Many topics he did not write about at any length—for example, the Indiana University Foundation—and he felt it essential that my knowledge of the Foundation and of such a matter as the classic challenge to Alfred Kinsey’s academic freedom be recorded. But my principal reason for writing is the hope that the book will furnish a bit of perspective for future historians on an efflorescent period in the life of the university. Dr. Clark also wished me to make a statement of the philosophy that had guided the administrative team that constituted the presidency during my years.

When I first received these requests, I mentioned that I had urged President Bryan to write his reminiscences but that he had resisted all pressures to do so. I now realize, after the traumatic effort involved in my reconstructing the past—the research into the voluminous records to make sure that the reconstruction was accurate—how very wise he was. But I finally yielded and over a period of time have jogged along on the project as best I could while making a conscientious effort to carry on a wide range of responsibilities assigned to me by the university during my years as chancellor and while yielding occasionally to attractive opportunities for public service.

After a period of dictating chapters in a chronological sequence, which went very slowly indeed and seemed doomed never to end, I was advised by Bernard Perry, former director of the Indiana University Press, and by other persons simply to dictate thoughts about the past as and whenever they came to my mind, regardless of the topic. I followed this suggestion with a rapid acceleration of output as a result. It meant that my dictation and writing were done for the most part in unconventional ways: in my car when I was on long drives; during long flights in airplanes in this country and overseas; in the loneliness of dreary hotel rooms or at the University Club of New York or of Chicago; in my bedroom at two or three A.M. when I awakened; in my living room during convalescence from illness in response to questions from my perceptive and knowledgeable colleague, Dorothy Collins, and from our research assistant, John Haste; and in long sessions with those who were in with me at the beginning of my administration, so to speak, such as Edward Edwards and Croan Greenough. As a result of the marvel of a small portable tape recorder, topics were dictated in London, Cairo, San Francisco, Hong Kong, at the Ocean Reef Club in the Florida Keys, and in many other places around the world. Then these disjointed dictations had to be researched for accuracy (dates, names, proper spelling of names, and so on) and finally rearranged and joined together in a coordinated narrative—a job that Mrs. Collins has done with superlative skill, really incredible skill.

As a result of this manner of writing, a distinct change occurs after the first third of the book: after the early chapters, which are chronological, all others are topical. However, many of the activities dealt with in the topical chapters were going on simultaneously with the performance of my presidential duties. For those interested in the exact sequence of my various assignments, when each began and ended, the information can be obtained from the chronology in the Appendix (A), included by request of the publisher. It should be apparent from the chronology that in these recollections I have pared the full story to the bone, in part because of a lack of time and energy to write about the manifold activities that have filled the days of my years.

Thus my various undertakings are represented here only by examples; there is much, much more that should have been recounted. In fact, what is not recounted is substantially larger than what has been; at the same time, some portions of the recollections have been set down simply for the record, in order to give my version of how it was, as Dr. Clark suggested.

I have attempted to write candidly and honestly of events and personalities, but I have not sought to spice the record with innuendo, gossip, and rumor. When most of one’s life has been that of a public person, it is necessary to write in a public vein. A professional writer can indulge in subjective evaluations and comments on personalities for color and interest, but that is a tactic I would not use, even if circumstances had made it possible.

The director of the Indiana University Press, John Gallman, has generously taken time to advise me about my manuscript. Pointing out that most people do not like to read long books and that, in any case, paper stock and printing are very expensive, he suggested that the completed manuscript be shortened. As a consequence I had to sacrifice mention of many colleagues who played a vital role in advancing the work of the university during my presidency. Likewise, but of lesser importance, I had to delete a number of the unusual experiences and yarns that I have related through the years that my colleagues and friends had admonished me to write down. As much as I regret these omissions, they were necessary in order to achieve a shorter book. I recognize the wisdom of John’s advice and I am grateful for it.

I particularly regret leaving out a description of much of what was accomplished by my colleagues. I would have preferred to write about their activities rather than my own, but I was reminded that it is my responsibility to record my own involvements, not those of others.

As is apparent from the above, profit was not my motive for writing this book. If any income should result from its publication, it will be paid to the Indiana University Foundation for the benefit of the Indiana University Library book fund.

Because it would have been awkward to match each masculine pronoun with a feminine one throughout, I have used the masculine almost exclusively in the sense of “person.” I hope that this choice is understandable and tolerable to my many women colleagues, whom I had no intention of slighting. The extensive period covered in this book, from my ancestors to the present day, stretched the bounds of what I could recall from experience and from versions of family lore. To my regret, I had kept no systematic record, but we unearthed some journals and diaries of special trips and missions as well as letters I had written home during those periods. University documents served to refresh or confirm my memory in many instances. But frequently I have sought the aid of relatives, friends, and colleagues to supplement or correct my recollection. They have been helpful and well-wishing under whatever circumstances I happened to turn to them: by phone, by letter, by interview, or in casual encounter. To each and every one of them, named or unnamed, I hereby acknowledge my debt and express my appreciation.

During the years of Mother’s failing eyesight and sharpened memories of earlier times, we often discussed family history. These sessions were the indispensable basis of the first section of this book. My cousins Esther and Helen Heady supplemented and corrected some of these recollections and contributed memorabilia that were often useful. Along with relatives, two associates in the start of my career—my roommate Sam Gabriel and my recently deceased houseman John Stewart—supplied colorful detail. The late Peter Costas and Louise Cauble were similarly helpful.

Conversations with Leo M. Gardner, Paul DeVault, Lyman D. Eaton, M.D., Charles M. Cooley, Jack New, and Edward Edwards and letters from Elizabeth Parrish and Evelyn Cummins were of substantial assistance in my writing of the pages on the reform of financial institutions in Indiana. In this instance, as in several others throughout the preparation of the manuscript, I submitted pertinent sections to knowledgeable colleagues of the period for their review and criticism. Their written comments were an invaluable aid.

In my account of my deanship I am particularly indebted for such comments. Assistance came from Edward Edwards, George W. Starr, Nathan L. Silverstein, Harry Sauvain, the late Stanley Pressler, John Mee, Arthur Weimer, the late Joseph A. Batchelor, John H. Porter, Bernita Gwaltney, and Croan Greenough.

For my section on finance, I was aided by two stalwarts of my administration (whose memories I relied on in other sections as well), Joseph A. Franklin, Sr., and Claude Rich, and by Ray Butler and Robert Burton.

Peter Topping went to great lengths to ensure that the section on the Greek mission was accurate. The research on this period brought a welcome letter from Alison Frantz.

A recent book by Henry Kellermann, along with correspondence from him, proved to be exceptionally useful in my recounting of my months with General Lucius Clay. Peter Fraenkel has been a sure source of detail about both the German period and the years following in the presidency. Interviews with Werner Philipp, Wolfgang Krieger, John Gimbel, and Jutta-B. Lange-Quassowski added to my interpretation.

I am indebted to Willis Porter, Walter Laves, Lynne Merritt, and Raziuddin Siddiqi for their discussions with me and for materials about our technical assistance programs.

William Armstrong, James Elliott, and Virginia Barr of the Indiana University Foundation have supplied useful data and comments. Others who responded readily and helpfully to my requests were Tom Miller, Harold Jordan, Dwight Peterson, Leon Wallace, Frank Edmondson, Ed Cohen, and Major General Joseph Butcher.

I would have been severely handicapped had I not been able to call upon Mary Craig for information from her vast knowledge of the university and her access to archival material. Dolores Lahrman and the University Archives staff have been cooperative and industrious in locating data and documents for me.

The difficult task of hunting down elusive facts, searching the files for explanatory or authenticating documents, calling various sources to verify information, checking names, and the like have been performed by two researchers: first, John L. Haste and, more recently, David Warriner.

My secretaries through the years have been valuable resources for historical details about my schedule, travels, staff, and miscellaneous events. Catherine Royer, my longtime secretary, in particular has been helpful as have been Mary Ellen Woods, who was in the president’s office when I succeeded William Lowe Bryan, and my current secretary, Charlotte Pitcher. Every secretary on my staff has had a share in typing dictation for the book, but responsibility for the finished manuscript has fallen in turn to Bridget Tolpa, Darlene Heck, and Sharon Teulle, all of whom have been patient, painstaking, and hardworking.

I would be remiss if I failed to acknowledge my debt to Thomas D. Clark, with whom I discussed my administration and my problems in the unaccustomed activity of writing my recollections. Tom was helpful in his counsel, interested and interesting, perceptive and gracious in his comments. Inevitably, his three-volume history of Indiana University has had some effect in the shaping of this book.

The informal sponsorship of my work by the Distinguished Alumni Service Award Club and its continued interest have served to goad, encourage, and inspire me.

For the past thirty-eight years Dorothy Collins has been associated with the university and has firsthand knowledge of all that has happened during this era. Not only is she an expert editor, but, because of her extensive background of information about the university (some of it myth!), she also has been able to jog my memory and to suggest topics to be included and others to be deleted. In addition, she was both a stern taskmistress and a constant source of inspiration, keeping me at the job when the temptation to chuck the whole thing was great. Without her sacrificial help and guidance there would have been no book.

I wish to record as well my profound gratitude to the president, administrative officers, and trustees of the university for their helpfulness in furnishing the physical and human resources essential to the writing of this volume. I thank the officers of the university and of the Indiana University Foundation for their understanding sufferance, allowing me to take the time required for producing a manuscript, time that otherwise might have been utilized directly in the furtherance of their goals.