Letters to the Editor

Getting In, or Not

My thanks to Ivan Maisel for that wonderful dissection of college admissions in "What It Takes" (November/December). He not only clarified the complexities and nuances to this intense process, but he also provided touching examples of human beings struggling with the most difficult of decisions and outcomes.

In my 30-plus-year career in public education, the experience that provided me with the deepest insights into what learning and human growth should be all about came from a short stint in the admissions office at my undergraduate alma mater, Amherst College, another highly competitive institution. When asked what it takes to get in, the dean of admissions would speak to the search to uncover those intangibles not found in test scores and grades. I learned that it's not the possession of ability that counts the most, but what one does with his or her ability. It was rewarding to see these same considerations undergirding Stanford's deliberations.

The Amherst admissions dean, if pushed hard, would sometimes allow that a qualified candidate who was a left-handed pitcher intent upon majoring in Latin and coming from a rural community in, say, Montana or Idaho probably had a pretty good chance of being accepted. Such considerations were also nicely woven into the picture by Maisel in Stanford's quest to build a community with each class.

Bob Madgic, MA '62, PhD '71
Anderson, California

Two quick thoughts on this excellent article. First, if my memory serves me right, during the 1960s one large university decided to bypass the traditional admission process. Instead of interviews, personal essays, folder reviews, etc., they simply took applicants with the highest SAT scores. Alas, the teachers found those wunderkinds so boring and uninspired they threatened to go on strike.

Now a reassuring tale for parents whose kids didn't get into a top-drawer school. Six years ago, my wife's twins enrolled in an NSNH (Neither Stanford Nor Harvard) university. Despite these tragedies, both graduated in four years and immediately went to work. Soon thereafter came the supreme event: canceling their credit cards plus health and auto insurance. Thanks to their well-paying jobs in Denver and Los Angeles, the Bank of Dad is history.

In closing, I offer my deepest sympathy to those whose children graduated from a tony college but still sleep under their parents' roof. As my sainted grandpappy said, "The only thing worse than kids leaving home is when they don't."

John Gamel, MD '71
Louisville, Kentucky

In late 1969, the woman I would later marry, Anne Hartman, applied to the Stanford GSB for admission to the Class of 1972, as did I. She was born in Illinois but raised in Florida, had a honey-sweet Southern accent, and had been working in Boston to put her first husband through Harvard Business School. She lived in Los Altos because her husband, MBA in hand, had taken a consulting job in the Bay Area. I had just turned into a civilian after four and a half years as a commissioned officer in the U.S. Navy, most recently in Oakland. I was born in France and raised in New York, and was footloose and somewhat unfocused. I knew that I wanted to go to business school to enhance my future prospects, that I wanted to go to a top school that qualified as an "Academy," that I would rather be poor and warm than poor and cold. Stanford was my first choice. I wasn't sure I was up to it after reading cover stories in Time and other major publications about the rigors of such a program, but I thought I should give it a shot.

We both experienced the same admissions process. We each sat down with Gary Williams, the dean of admissions, and had a long conversation with him. What he said to Anne I'm not sure, but after asking me about my high school and college records, available references, life objectives and so on, he asked me if I would be likely to "screw up" the business boards. I told him that, no, I likely would get very high scores on such a standardized test. "OK, you're in," he said, "but don't screw up the boards." I doubt Anne received any such warning. She, too, was granted on-the-spot admittance. Neither of us applied to any other schools.

Gary Williams did not make a mistake. I graduated first in the class as well as first in finance and won what was then called the Wall Street Journal Award. Anne received the Ernie Arbuckle Award, given annually to the most outstanding student. And yet, having talked about this many times, we both feel that neither one of us would be admitted today. Why? Well, for one thing, as everyone acknowledges, academic records are inflated today, in college as well as in high school, so all those perfect scores, 4.0 averages and awards received look like everyone else's. Résumés are coached, engineered, strategized and padded, with everyone having done all these wonderful, incredible and rather preposterous things early in life. Interviews, if they exist, are a little different from our experience. For years, the interview was banned for fear of "biasing" the process, and while I believe that mistake has been rectified, I doubt anyone gets to sit one-on-one with the dean for 40 minutes. How do you distinguish yourself?

The answer I would glean from your article is that you don't. You are evaluated by a committee that scores the application using a sophisticated discriminant function with some input from someone who purports to have actually read the application and is pro or con. You are subjected to geographic, cultural and probably ethnic quota filtering. And those who get the fat envelope are the happy winners of a lottery, no better qualified in many cases than those who get the thin envelope. That's what is in the black box.

I am thankful that things were different back in my day; otherwise, I would probably still be working at some job of incalculable drudgery instead of retired for the past 20 years. I have also always been grateful to have met Anne, whom I married 15 years after we graduated.

Chris Wyser-Pratte, MBA '72
Ossining, New York

I am fortunate to have one daughter at Stanford who will graduate this year and another daughter who received that thin envelope last year. I must say, reading the thin letter created a bit of turmoil in my household. However, I was more than delighted by the way the news was delivered. It was one of the best rejection letters I have ever read. My daughter, of course, did not see it in the same light. I have been a high school counselor for 25 years. I have had many students apply to Stanford and not get in. In fact, today I had another student ask me to fill out my portion of the common application for her to apply to Stanford. She is so excited about the possibility of getting in. My plan is to give her a copy of this article.

Linda Herrera
Salinas, California

I'm a double legacy kid, and a framed picture of me wearing a Stanford sweatshirt at 9 months still stands in my parents' home. I don't own a sweatshirt that does not have "Stanford" on it. After reading "What It Takes," I am seeing this clothing item in a different way. My 12-year-old daughter has started to raid my closet and to wear my sweatshirts. Looking at her in the red sweatshirt, I realize that the odds of her becoming a Cardinal are actually quite low and that it is largely outside her control.

No matter how many times I say that there are many excellent schools, my closet communicates something different. I fear I am promoting an unattainable goal. It is time to pack the sweatshirts away. Maybe someday I will take those sweatshirts out of the box in celebration of a third generation of our family at Stanford or simply as part of the family mix. Until then, the shelves need to stay open to whatever paths my girls take.

Ariel J. Lang, '91
Del Mar, California

The article does a good job of summarizing both the difficulty of gaining admission to Stanford and the emotional roller coaster that applicants and their families face. The exponential growth in applicants to Stanford and schools like it accurately reflects the breadth of opportunities for high school students that now (finally) transcends geographic and economic circumstances, as well as the belief that going to a top-25 or top-50 college determines success. While I do believe that going to one of these schools matters, I also know that this opinion confuses causation with correlation. It is not the college that creates the successful student, it is the students who create the brand for the college. Dean Richard Shaw points out that 80 percent of the applicants are capable and "We leave behind extraordinary young people." These 30,000 students, who are incredibly driven, passionate and intellectually curious, represent the top 2 percent of our youth and, as a cohort, are going to be disproportionately successful, not only monetarily but more holistically by their ability to influence and enhance society. Getting into Stanford (or MIT, Haverford, etc.) is not what defines this group's success. They are already successful and will continue to be.

When parents look at the graduates of the top colleges, however defined, they see this success. That is why it is so painful and emotional when Stanford, or any school, says no. For a brief moment it creates doubt where there should not be any. It is also why Shaw correctly states, "My consolation prize is that . . . they will wind up at very good schools and do very well."

I know the pride of having children, nephews and nieces who are fortunate enough to be considered for admission to Stanford. One of them is in the Class of '17. Others populate similar schools but with different flavors. For the one beginning his journey at Stanford, I think he is attending possibly the most vibrant university in America. For the others, I know they will have equal but different opportunities to find their voice. Of this, I have no doubt.

Robert Okun, '83
Short Hills, New Jersey

I just read the article "What It Takes," and the facts were interesting—but as I got to the part about Bill Shirley, I was pulled in to hearing about a real live person's reaction to his boy not getting in to Stanford. Although "I wasn't angry, but very bitter," doesn't sound too self-aware, he was a real dad and a loyal Stanford grad. I'm so happy for him that he dumped his negative feelings and helped Stanford carry on its vision. Is this the purpose of this article—tell them why their kid didn't get in, and inspire them to keep donating to the alumni fund? Got it.

Judi Malinowski
Amboy, Washington

Reading the article [about] admissions jogged a memory that has always brought a smile to my face. Unbelievably, I was among 12 students at a high school in Tacoma, Wash., who were accepted by—and attended—Stanford as freshmen in 1955. We represented 5 percent of our high school senior class!

This admissions aberration had an unusual explanation. The father of one of my high school classmates had married a young woman who was a recent Stanford graduate and personally acquainted with the assistant dean of admissions. When the dean came to the Northwest to interview applicants, she invited him to stay at her home. I very well recall that evening when all 12 of us who had applied to Stanford met this gentleman in the living room of my friend's house. We all subsequently received letters of admission. Talk about luck.

Jerry Petrone, '59
San Diego, California

Imagine if 10 years ago Google announced it was done adding data centers, so the ability to use its search would be by lottery. Or if Intel and Apple said they could not maintain brand cachet and quality while scaling production, so sales would be capped. Now imagine they had full means to expand production, but in their field it was not customary or considered becoming to grow beyond a few percent annually. I believe the United States and the world would be worse off.

I give you elite universities of the United States. They have taken education and knowledge generation to wonderful new heights, unparalleled in human history or other countries. They have massive capital and stunning success raising more for visionary changes. They have an excess of qualified applicants and get hundreds of outstanding candidates vying for professorships. The New York campus was a glimmer. There is space, demand, means and vast opportunity in any region you might choose.

Plus, elite schools have a growing and awkward problem: 85 percent of children of alumni—their most ardent supporters—who apply are denied acceptance. Some are not qualified, but a tidal wave of demand relative to capacity is forcing top schools to turn away many who are and who would have been cheerfully admitted a few years ago. Kids trump schools in parents' minds, so supporters become indifferent, and over the long run this takes a toll on the schools' ability to be their very best.

Elite universities are a world of proud tradition. Stanford once had to conform to conventions created by older schools to be taken seriously. Can Stanford now escape that gravity, and show the creativity and vision that Stanford alumni have as they reinvent their world, disrupt the existing order and make the world better for it? I suggest a goal of doubling capacity in 20 years and setting an admission rate target of, say, 10 percent, with lower values being seen as what they are: missed opportunity.

Frank Selker, MS '85
Portland, Oregon

On JFK

On the Trail of the Assassins: My Investigation and Prosecution of the Murder of President Kennedy was a work of narrative nonfiction by Jim Garrison. Published in 1988, Trail helped lead to the movie JFK, which was released in 1991 and in which Kevin Costner portrayed the book's author. To Justice Richard M. Mosk, '60 ("Truth Was Our Only Client," November/December), I'd like to say: Read that book. It can inspire you to expand your narrative nonfiction piece into a book of your own.

Dave Canfield, '59
San Jose, California

Disappointed

I am disappointed that Stanford printed the article "Flight Risk?" (November/December). This is the type of story I would expect to find in an AARP publication, the Chico/Sacramento News & Review or the National Enquirer.

Homeland Security has an important task; it gives me solace knowing they are attempting to protect me and my neighbors. While they may not be perfect, it is counterproductive to discredit their mission. Restricting Ibrahim from returning to the United States is of little importance if such a position saves only one American life.

Bill Pahland, '57, MS '59
Chico, California

Those Iron Curtain Fixtures

I can assure Professor Applebaum that his success in appealing to an Iron Curtain light fixture was not likely a coincidence ("The Bedbugs Are Electronic," Farm Report, November/December). Curiously, also in 1987, my wife and I (then a professor at University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill) were attending the 14th International Congress of Linguistics in East Berlin. We had accepted the DDR's socialist hospitality in the Hotel Stadt Berlin—to the astonishment of the late and much missed Professor Charles Ferguson and the others of the Stanford contingent, who had realized that our elaborately stamped and sealed pass documents would have allowed us to stay in the West and cross over at will. On our first night, my wife emerged from the huge bathroom—the tub large enough to have accommodated Hermann Göring—to report there was no hot water. Trying to compose an appeal in my best German approximation to fraternal, socialist self-criticism (Fidel Castro was arriving on a state visit the next day), I appealed to the ceiling light fixture. And so, nächsten morgen, hot water was flowing amply.
Laurence D. Stephens, '69, MA '72, PhD '76
Lexington, Virginia

Down With Football

I think it is time to give the game of football the death it deserves by admitting that the game destroys the bodies of the players ("The Cardinal's Comeback Kids," Farm Report, November/December). The purpose of an athletic sport is to build bodies, not to destroy them, as football does. The average tenure of professional football players is four years, because after that, their bodies have been so severely damaged that they are no longer able to play. There are many other worthwhile athletic sports—basketball, baseball, tennis, golf, soccer, lacrosse—and all of these participants benefit by playing, because the sports improve their health.
Richard E. Winkelman, MS '53, Engr. '58
Los Altos Hills, California

Small and Beautiful

I was greatly moved by the letter from Alan Lambert ("Farm No More," November/December). I, too, treasure my years at Stanford and the total education I received there. And I, too, am saddened by what has happened to "my school" in the ensuing years. What a loss has occurred. From a small, open and exciting milieu of talk, closeness and open casual feeling, Stanford has evolved into a behemoth of a politically correct, money-centered and prestige-driven institution where I would not want to be.

Why does the number of Nobel laureates or the ranking of the sports teams or the size of the endowment matter so greatly? What has happened to the grand purpose of the founders to provide a broad liberal education, which would form the basis of a lifetime of erudition? When I matriculated at Stanford, it was mandatory for all students to take History of Western Civilization. No exceptions. This course in itself constituted a total education and something I have never forgotten. I was shocked when Stanford chose to remove this from the curriculum. The timid explanation given at the time was in no way satisfactory.

So I look back on my Stanford years with nostalgia and sadness. Surely small is beautiful. And Stanford was small and beautiful.

Marshall Pearlman, '51
Laguna Hills, California

Holy Peekaboo

Terry Zaccone's letter to the editor ("Church, Religion and State," November/December) reminded me of when my granddaughter was a toddler and we played hide-and-seek. It was easy when she was that age. All I had to do was throw a blanket over myself, and she thought I wasn't there and had to come peek under the blanket to see that I hadn't disappeared. Likewise, when she hid her eyes, she thought I couldn't see her because she couldn't see me. Well, it's OK, Terry; don't be afraid to go peek under the blanket. Just because you can't see Him, it doesn't mean He's not there.

Melissa Rick Cochran, '78
San Diego, California

Ins and Outs

Thanks for the article “What It Takes” (November/December), which helped bring some transparency to the admission process. When my daughter got into Stanford, it revived my interest and connection to the Farm. But I felt guilty that it took her acceptance to get me to be a better alum. Until then, I probably was a disappointment to both Stanford and the Beach Boys in terms of being true to my school. I wondered how I would have felt if my daughter had been rejected.

One thing I did as a newly devoted Stanford grad and dad was to volunteer to help conduct the alumni interviews the admission department was offering to applicants. I always found something positive to say about everyone I interviewed. I never had the heart to ding someone just because they were tongue-tied in the hour they spent with me.

But I remember one applicant who seemed to have buckets of intellectual vitality. “She’d be perfect for Stanford,” I thought. In the report that I sent to the admissions office, I gave an unqualified endorsement. “Please let her in,” I wrote. She was rejected. When I heard, I felt a pang of disappointment, as if my own daughter had been turned down. I hoped that the person I interviewed ended up somewhere good, even if it wasn’t Stanford, and I wondered if I was cut out to be an admission officer, even an amateur one.
Richard Chin, ’81
St. Paul, Minnesota

Dallas Rumors

Justice Mosk’s article on the Warren Commission was very interesting (“Truth Was Our Only Client,” November/December). I guess we’ll never really know if the JFK assassination was a conspiracy or not. I was in Dallas a couple of weeks after the murder. I worked for Ford Motor Co. and was doing some audit work at a Mercury dealership there. The dealership was across the freeway from the Book Depository. As best I can remember, the sales manager and office manager relayed the following information.

Everyone was in shock at hearing the news. A little after 2 p.m., one of the salesmen came running into the dealership, breathless and shaken. The sales manager asked him where he had been and where his demo car was. He said his car was parked a few blocks away and was evasive regarding why he left it there. It turned out that it was around the corner from the Book Depository, apparently behind the grassy knoll. This salesman had espoused pro-Castro sentiments and was somewhat aloof. The sales manager reported all this to the FBI but never heard any more, and the salesman quit soon thereafter.

There was also a rumor that the syndicate in Chicago bought a Lincoln Continental to be given to Oswald. The office manager also related how Officer Tippit did not take the proper precautions when he saw Oswald: Rather than exit the patrol car to confront him, he called Oswald over to the car. Once Tippit realized that this really could be the assassin, it was too late. Oswald shot him and ran into the movie theater. The ticket taker told the police that a man suspiciously ran into the theater when the police answered the call for Officer Tippit’s shooting. They went in and got him.

It’s been a long time, but that’s the best I can remember. Dallas was in complete shock, as was the rest of the nation . . . an extremely sad day.
Rich Scholz, MBA ’58
Palo Alto, California

Medical Memories

The new Medical School opened in 1958, essentially ending the “reign” of the old Palo Alto Hospital (“Facelift for an Octogenarian,” Farm Report, November/December). During its last year of operation (1958-59) I had a minor surgery there, requiring an overnight stay. The inclusive bill was typed on one page: The stay was $19.50 and the surgery, covering the surgeon and anesthesiologist, was $49.50. (I still have the bill!) We don’t live in a different world; we live on a different planet!
John Stahler, ’60
Mountain View, California

Market Sentiment

The usefulness of the research that produced the “uncertainty” article (“There’s More Than One Way to Measure Economic Jitters,” Farm Report, September/October) was justifiably criticized by John La Sala (“Useless Metric?” Letters, November/December). Behavioral economics has established that human perceptions about the market have often been in error. (See R.J. Shiller’s “Economic View,” New York Times, October 26, commenting on his recent Nobel Prize.) Such perceptions are often summarized in market sentiment measures. (See Liz Ann Sonders, “Why Worry . . . About a Melt-Up?” schwab.com, November 4.)

The market always has at least some uncertainty—translated on Wall Street as the risk inherent in volatility, viz standard deviations of market performance in various time frames—so the frequency of the word itself, at best, might qualify as a “dumb money” sentiment indicator, probably coincident but partly trailing, because the media focuses on events that have typically already occurred. The central problem with market sentiment is that it reflects near-term perceptions and not any sort of long-term strategy. In fact, market sentiment is best judged on a contrary basis. This points out the usefulness in betting against popular opinions.
Bob Wilson, ’59
Boulder, Colorado

Tree Houses

I enjoyed the article on trees at Stanford (“High and Mighty,” September/October). What other university named freshman dorms for oak species—Roble and Encina—in Spanish?
Norma Davis, ’51
 Carmel, California

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