OF COURAGE AND RELIEF
The blurb on the March/April cover story (“New Kids on the Quad”) made me laugh: “They had the courage to change their minds.” I do not doubt that the decision to transfer requires courage for many, perhaps most, of those who do so, and I applaud them. But some transfer students are driven to their decision out of frustration, even desperation.
For me, two years at a large public university were enough to see that I could not get what I wanted out of my education there. If I had not been able to transfer, I probably would have given up on school altogether. Stanford, in that gorgeous thick envelope, gave me an escape from a lousy situation and relief for my niggling self-doubt. I made the move in ’97.
Unfortunately, little in the article reflects my experience, and so it misses some of the importance of the transfer program. In the years after I arrived, high enrollment squeezed out a lot of transfer students, which I found disappointing. To me, those 80 to 100 slots are no mere convenience; they are a defining part of the Stanford experience and the kind of opportunity I would like to see more available, not less.
Miles D. Townes, ’00
Falls Church, Virginia
I read your recent article with the interest of one who was a transfer in 1949. I think Stanford has improved considerably in its handling of transfers. I don’t remember getting any special orientation; I think we were more or less just thrown to the wolves. They were friendly wolves, however, and I survived.
I was particularly interested in the results of the alumni survey concerning the feelings of transfers about Stanford. That survey is absolutely accurate. I don’t know what there is about Stanford that instills such feelings. I have attended other fine universities such as Johns Hopkins, Columbia (MA, ’55) and St. John’s (JD, ’58), but I feel no affection for them at all. Stanford simply provides an atmosphere that you can never forget. If we could bottle it we’d make millions.
I also was interested in percentage of transfer applicants who were accepted. I have always been very grateful to the University for accepting me—I didn’t realize just how grateful I should be. Thanks for the great article.
Peter Mollica, ’50
Springfield, Vermont
The article on transfer students triggered a number of recollections—and the understanding that while the basic issues I experienced in 1956 as a junior transfer are unchanged, the University has moved dramatically to deal with them. Housing was very difficult; the University provided no on-campus housing for transfers. The “regulars” had already formed their associations, and there was no effort to connect us with other transfers. Graduate students I knew were similarly new to campus, but they came together in their departments. It was very much sink or swim for the transfers. But the academic side was wonderful. I am pleased to learn of the programs that the University now offers to transfers.
Ed Shillingburg, ’58
Shelter Island Heights, New York
I transferred to the Farm from a community college in the fall of 1969 with complete trust that I had made the best decision of my life. Throwing myself into
a whirlwind of activity, I was warmly received into the University Chorus, as well as a host of fun stuff (a kiss on the Quad under the full moon by a senior, first Big Game, first Bonfire), even though I had to settle for off-campus housing for the fall quarter. I was urged by a senior to get placed in Roth House. As a music major (organ performance), I could have retreated to the Knoll and the library, especially as the campus was convulsed with unrest after Kent State. Order was quickly restored, and a fabulous senior year followed. My coursework in geology (including a weeklong Grand Canyon hike) and CS, tongue-in-cheek opera at Dink, Flicks, serving as a tutor at Menlo-Atherton High School and going to the Rose Bowl made my sojourn deeply rewarding. [Admission dean Fred] Hargadon must have known I would continue to hold this place close to my heart, to urge my kids to apply (one did, Engineering ’02), and to contribute to its continuing excellence the rest of my life. As one of the officials quoted said: “Transfers are just not willing to compromise their education,” and that’s why I chose Stanford. It mattered little that I didn’t have the freshman dorm experience—I regret only that I didn’t transfer a year earlier.
Joan (Carne-McElwain) Carter, ’71
McMinnville, Oregon
Thanks so much for the wonderful magazine that keeps me connected to Stanford. The article on transfer students gave me a new perspective on my experience transferring to Stanford in the fall of 1965, my junior year. I never thought of it as courageous—more like my good fortune. I did arrive with a clear sense of my path and was fortunate to become editor of the Quad (the second woman; Joellyn Kapp was the first) back in the days of typewriters and glue and ruler layout. I also managed a spot on the women’s tennis team and was active in Roth House activities, such as stealing the Delt flag. From my graduation day in 1968, communications has provided me with a lucrative career and tennis with years of physical and social activity. I may have missed out on the bonding during my first two years, but the warm welcome, abundant opportunities and richness of my experiences seem, after all these years, to make up for that.
When people ask me where I went to school, I used to say, “Well, I went two years to University of Denver, then transferred to Stanford.” After 37 years, I guess I’ve earned the “right” to simply reply with pride: Stanford!
Pat Newport, ’67
Corvallis, Oregon
As I rushed to fill in the 20th-reunion class book page before the deadline and now ponder the reunion invitation itself, one sentence from Joshua Fried’s article stands out: “Transfers . . . are much less likely to have a close affinity with their graduating class, and are . . . less likely to feel part of the greater Stanford community.” While I am rarely conscious of this condition, it is accurate. The result of its occasional flare-up is a mild dose of loss, for the friendships that didn’t have time to develop and the opportunities that went unexplored.
I transferred to Stanford my junior year and found the positive college experience that I had been hoping for, but had not been living, at Harvard. However, the late arrival to the party had two main drawbacks. I had missed the “great social mixing” that takes place freshman year and had some catching up to do coursewise to get on track with my new major. The former was a handicap because the volume of students actively looking to meet new people is never as great as during freshman year. Established friendships and the dispersal of the upper classes into the different residences create a level of difficulty for the transfer student that doesn’t exist for a freshman. Catching up in my course-work merely required focus, cramming and swift execution. Sadly, sprinting at such speed, I mostly missed partaking of what I feel is Stanford’s strongest asset, the amazing wealth of life experience and ideas carried by the professors, staff and students. While I successfully graduated, my experience probably would have been greatly enriched by a full four years.
But no regrets—I had a great time at Stanford and am very happy I transferred. And two years at Stanford was long enough that even now, 20 years later, whenever I hear “All Right Now” or the theme to “Hawaii Five-0,” I hop up on whatever chair is available and dance. This ingrained response has its drawbacks (like on a blind date at a Bad Company concert), but the sheer joy is worth
the slight embarrassment and social discomfort. Or so I tell myself, over and over again.
Clinton McDade, ’85
Charlotte, North Carolina
PROTESTING THE PROTEST
I saw the photo and paragraph about the antiabortion protest that took place on White Plaza (“Solemn Symbolism,“ Farm Report, March/April). My, we have come a long way and not necessarily a good one. The last time I saw crosses on the plaza, it was an anti-Vietnam war protest that friends staged in the early ’70s. The crosses represented living human beings who had been killed in a senseless and corrupt war.
Today, rather than protest the 1,500-plus young Americans and 10,000-plus Iraqis who have died in this generation’s senseless war, some students erected crosses to negatively represent the women whose lives have been saved by abortions. The far right has done an effective job of focusing attention on bogus culture wars. Issues of abortion, gay marriage and public displays of religion disguise or deflect the greater issues of economic devastation for the working poor, a huge national debt and deficit and, oh yes, that pesky war in the Middle East.
Let’s put a real human face on the issue of abortion rights at Stanford. When I was a student, I paid for an abortion for my sister who had become pregnant from rape. The initial rape was devastating enough. Should she have been forced to carry a child to term? Fortunately, she had the option of abortion. I had to deplete my savings and borrow money from my boyfriend, who also borrowed from other students, to pay for the procedure. None of us regrets our actions in the least. Today, my sister has two sons in high school. The ability to have that abortion had positive ramifications throughout her entire life.
Real people have abortions and real people’s lives are saved by them.
Jonna Ramey, ’72
Salt Lake City, Utah
How significant that Stanford Students for Life planted 440 crosses to commemorate the 100,000 legal abortions performed in the United States since the passing of Roe v. Wade. I hope they can find similar ways to mourn the tens of thousands of Iraqi babies who died during a decade of sanctions and a savage illegal war. I hope they can find ways to note the passing of babies in the genocide at Darfur. But—oh, yes, I forgot—lives of American fetuses are worth more than babies in other countries.
Stanford Students for Life represent the type of “Wal-Mart Christians” who were a major factor in re-electing George W. Bush to yet another term. His has not been a pro-life administration, but rather one so obsessed with war and torture that it has refashioned the United States into the most deadly and feared rogue state on earth. We can only hope the Rapture will save us.
David Hahn, PhD ’93
Seattle, Washington
OUTGROWING OLD THOUGHTS
I was taken aback when I read in the President’s Column (“Preserving the Farm Requires New Thinking,” March/April) that the University had agreed to a general use permit of Santa Clara County that confines new construction to about one-quarter (1,300 acres) of Stanford’s lands within the county.
When I retired at the age of 80 from a 50-year career in urban and regional planning, I had considerable experience in planning for open-space preservation, both in California and in other Western states. In 1970, I was the principal author of the Palo Alto Foothills Study. Based on both environmental and public fiscal factors, the report recommended that all urban density development be banned in 6,100 acres. The study also resulted in the creation of the Midpeninsula Regional Open Space district in both Santa Clara and San Mateo counties in 1972.
I was the sole author of the Stanford University Land Use Policy/Plan, prepared in 1971, which designated 530 acres for campus expansion and 2,530 acres as an “academic reserve.” The policy/plan encompassed all Stanford lands in both Santa Clara and San Mateo counties and was adopted by the University’s Board of Trustees. In 1987, I was co-author with Robert H. Twiss of the Santa Clara County Open Space Preservation Program, which called for continued designation of 3,900 acres of Stanford’s land as “academic reserve/open space,” indicating that the “open space” lands could be used for academic development if needed by the University.
Stanford University, Silicon Valley, Santa Clara County, California, the nation and much of the world continue to experience radical changes. Consequently, I believe that significantly different approaches to land-use studies and resulting development decisions will be in order, particularly when they have statewide, national and even international impacts. Present and foreseeable future examples of such uses on Stanford’s lands include SLAC, Industrial Park land utilization or possible expansion, and scientific and engineering research activities germane to national defense; space exploration and related federal programs; environmental preservation studies; public health and other medical research of national and worldwide significance; and Hoover Institution’s studies of international political conflicts and concerns.
I would recommend such a vastly broader approach to resolving future conflicts between the University’s land use and development needs of more than local significance and the county’s land use and development policies and regulations.
Lawrence Livingston, ’40
Tiburon, California
While President Hennessy’s musings on architecture are interesting, instead of new thinking to preserve the Farm, he might find a more enduring paradigm in “intelligent thinking.” Jane Stanford’s century-old advice to outgrow old thoughts suggests we outgrow hers, which led to the deconstructing ’60s and beyond “asking not why, but why not.” As Jacques Barzun reminds us, the prime object of a school is not to seek the novelty but the removal of ignorance.
A good example of the latter is Robert G. Shelton’s letter warning of the “looming catastrophe” of “global warming” (“America Asleep,” March/April). For all its passion, since scientists aren’t decided on his “great cause,” his wake-up call is premature, another reason for President Hennessy’s revitalization of science. Numerous credible writers on climate are analyzing the evidence—e.g., measurement of accuracy, causes, political motives, history, benefits, etc. Shelton’s main motive seems more political than scientific. As Thomas S. Derr cautions, “The science is not settled. The case for anthropogenic warming probably won’t hold up. The earth is behaving as it has for millennia, with natural climate swings that have little to do with human activity.” Was Shelton alarmed in the ’70s at predictions of a “new ice age”?
Finally, in view of the feminization of American education and its inevitable submergence of male potential (girls outperforming boys, etc.), probably the most intelligent way to outgrow old thoughts and ways would be to separate Stanford into men’s and women’s colleges. “Who says A must say B” (Burnham’s law #2). One hopes the Stanfords would approve.
W. Edward Chynoweth, ’45, JD ’63
Sanger, California
THE ROAD TO RECOVERY
The letter writer (“After the Accident,” March/April) needs to be reminded that there are many of us who lived full lives after an accident such as hers. Mine came from an aircraft incident caused by a dumb student in the Navy’s Advance Training Command in June 1955. After 161 combat missions, he did what the North Koreans could not do: end my flying career. Once I knew I was going to live, I began the long, hard road to recovery. I was fortunate to have a number of people to help me. I had a loving wife whom I recently lost, a devoted medical staff at the Naval Hospital at Corpus Christi, Texas, and a Navy nurse physical therapist who took the time to push me. It took 10 months of hard work to regain what physical ability I have today. The most important aspect wasn’t the physical, however, but how to regain my mental ability. At first, I could only read for 10 minutes before my mind shut down. I pushed myself hard and I got back what I needed to enter Stanford in the fall of 1956 as a junior. No, I didn’t graduate with honors, but I made it. I spent the next 44 years in the computer world, loving the mind challenges and remembering the wonderful people I worked with and who worked for me. Sure, my physical state was difficult, but with a smile I made many friends. Lesson No. 1 was no whining about my bad luck. I was alive, that’s what counted. Many of my Navy flying buddies I went to war with are not. Lesson No. 2: do not forget Lesson No. 1. Jill Mason, it is all hard work, but you will go far if you look to the future and don’t dwell in the past. Challenge your mind to regain what you knew; it will come back. Mine did and Stanford opened for me the new world of computers.
George Schnitzer, ’58
Washington, D.C.
REGARDING PALESTINE
I was disappointed to see the publication of an ill-informed letter (“About Palestine” March/April 2005) that boldly accuses Stanford of “propagating the propaganda of Osama bin Laden and other suicide bombers,” by printing the word “Palestine.”
A quick search of every appearance of “Palestine” in Stanford since September 1996 revealed its use by our fellow alumni in “Class Notes,” in direct quotes from interviews, and in book and course titles. One would have to be rather imaginative (or zealously blind) to perceive such innocuous usage as the shameful support of bin Laden, which Naomi Robinson labels it. “Century at Stanford” had the following notable excerpt: “Jane Stanford returned in October from a 15-month international tour that included visits to England, France, Switzerland, Italy, Egypt and Palestine.” The year was 1901, and certainly it was called Palestine then.
Robinson attempts to make the incongruous link between the printing of “Palestine” and support for terrorists, while accusing Stanford of “bigotry.” Her unsolicited rejection of Palestinian identity is the first example of intolerance I have seen in these pages. She denies the history and culture of Palestinians with a single, frequently cited, quote from an obscure Palestinian nationalist. Palestinians have existed as a nation, though not a state, since the decline of the Ottoman Empire, and one can trace their heritage back for hundreds of years in that land. When even Ariel Sharon formally recognizes Palestinians, her denial is nothing short of extreme. A productive and enlightened discussion, of the sort that can take place in Stanford, must begin with a mutual recognition of experiences and histories. To deny either is to deny the foundations for a peaceful coexistence.
Finally, I will note that Robinson’s claim—“This land is now called Israel. I know; I live here”—is problematic. She writes from Bet El, an illegal Israeli settlement constructed in 1977 on Palestinian land near the West Bank town of Ramallah. Bet El is maintained and expanded in defiance of international law and, like other settlements, has not been recognized as a part of Israel by any nation or group of nations. Therefore, she does not, in fact, live in Israel.
Rajaie Batniji, ’03, MA ’03
San Francisco, California
Naomi Robinson writes from Israel. She must see Russian Jews every day. She should know something we American Jews rarely talk about: where have Israelis come from? For example, between 1968 and 1994, some 1.2 million Jews left the Soviet Union. Those among them who went to Israel did not go because of an ardent love for the ancient homeland of the Jews. It was one of two possibilities
for escaping the Soviet Union. Are they and their children Israelis? And if they are Israelis, what of the Arabs expelled by Jordan into the West Bank? If they have not become Palestinians, who are they? It’s absurd to say they are Jordanians; Jordan is a modern invention.
Israel and Palestine: two populations with nowhere else to go. Both paying current bills with remittances from those deeply committing to myths that call for the extinction of the other. A university journal ought to be a safe place to acknowledge that a new nation is needed, for survival of its people.
Carol Mullen, ’54
Palo Alto, California
It is ironic that Naomi Robinson’s letter criticizes the idea of a separate Palestinian identity as a threat to the state of Israel. Originally, Britain invented the idea of a modern state of Palestine not to threaten, but precisely to facilitate the creation of
a modern state of Israel. The partitioning of Arab lands may not have been absolutely necessary, but it seems to have contributed, at least in the eyes of many leading Arabs. They had campaigned for unity since the 1800s and continued into the 1960s to try to unify different combinations of the partitioned states. Ultimately, as we know, those efforts failed and the separate states, with the Israeli army at the gates of Cairo and Damascus, wisely gave up the fight in the 1970s. The efforts of the people left without a state to pull Jordan and Lebanon back into the fight failed, and from that point they have had nothing to fall back on politically but Britain’s concept of Palestine. It may be convenient for the Israelis to dispense with that concept now that only the contours of the reservations for the stateless people are at stake, but for accuracy we should remember the tactical contribution that the concept of Palestine made in facilitating Britain’s creation of Israel back in the 1920s and 1930s.
Joe Ryan, ’71
Cairo, Egypt
GO, JOE
I am touched by the tragic incident that turned Joe Kay’s world upside down (“Boy, Interrupted,” January/February). Thanks to his courage and determination and the support he has, we have reason to hope that his wish will come true—to be at the Farm and play for the team for which he was destined and earn the Stanford degree.
We hope to hear more about him and how life unfolds for Joe. Go, Joe, Go!
Nirund Jivasantikarn
Lampang, Thailand
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Or fax to (650) 725-8676; or send us an e-mail. You may also submit your letter online. Letters may be edited for length, clarity and civility.
An additional letter appeared in the print version of Stanford.
In Robert Fairbanks’s letter (“Leave Us Alone,” March/April), in the phrase
“Since he is neither zhaa-ga-naa-shi or muk-day-wii-yas (both non-Ojibwe)” the word neither should have been “either.”
