Viking_Yearbook_67

114-121 It began as a joke born of anger. Joe Uris, 26, sociology major from New York City, ran for student body president. “You have a birthright to an exciting education,” Uris told students, “and your rights are being sold. They are sold by tidy little minds and ambitious little men.” “What you are given instead is an expensive union card which gives you the right to work until you die without ever having to question what is really going on around you.” Uris talked politics in the language of poetry. And he put his poetry into action. “In the belief that education can best be attained in an environment that develops the whole man intellectually, spir­ itually, physically and socially, we recognize the obligation to strengthen the educational community by encouraging mutual cooperation and the realization of the rights of each member of this community.” For the first time in college history, Uris got students placed on each of 14 faculty committees as voting members. “Students will continue to behave as you except them to,” Uris told a jammed faculty meeting. “If your expectations are low they will fulfill them. But if you see them as some day joining your community, then give them partial access to your world.” Uris called a strike. “We are striking to give greater repre­ sentation to students,” Uris said. “Students should have the end say in all their programs and final control over all their funds. We consider these rights more important than the privilege to attend a film on Friday night as a beneficent gift of the institution.” All board chairmen for student programs ceased to function in compliance with the strike. Students continued to attend dances, films, and lectures. “Uris is dead” flyers were scattered through the cafeteria. A sign, “Uris University,” flanked by a swastika and a hammer and sickle, appeared above the college. After three weeks Uris called the strike off. He termed it “a qualified success.” The strike, he said, had forced the administration to arbitrate the student constitution. Said College President Branford P. Millar, “Uris came along a t just the right time. He symbolized the possibility of change. He was asking for participatory democracy in the college.” Two weeks before Uris left office, the House Committee on Un-American Activities said it had evidence that Joe was a communist. Students and faculty rallied to his support, but somehow everything seemed spoiled, turned sour. The joke born of anger was no longer a joke. But Uris fulfilled his cam­ paign promise; “I think we will be able to break the long tradition of Promethian failure. If not, at least we won’t lie on the rock silent and terrified as we are slowly devoured. Rather, we will let cry at the horror of it all.” 122-123 The faculty, as well as the students, were on the move for more participation in the decision making process at the college. More than 150 of them jammed into 53 State Hall to decide whether students would sit as voting members on faculty committees. The issue had already been approved by the Fac­ ulty Senate but an initiative petition had recalled the decision; the faculty as a whole wanted its say. “For the first time in years the faculty has before it a meaningful question” said one professor. “If students are given a significant role I believe they will accept the responsibility that goes with it.” Countered another, “The students’ case is founded on sand. They are not going to return government to the people; there is too much bureaucracy to go through already.” By overwhelming voice vote, the faculty opened each of its 14 committees to two vot­ ing student members. For the second year in a row the faculty was to decide whether it wanted to take part in the Mosser merit award pro­ gram to give $1000 bonuses to each of the 30 teachers rated “outstanding” by their students. This year the faculty got its say—nearly three hours of it in a special session. The decision: Narrow defeat of a motion to reject the Mosser Plan and estab­ lish a mandatory student rating system instead. The vote: 52 to 43. In effect, the faculty had hoped to par­ ticipate in the plan again this year, but the decision did not eliminate the problems of awarding the money. As late as May 1 the award committee had failed to agree on a criteria for selection of the 30 recipients. Faculty concern for its voice in the decision making process sounded during the weekend of March 3-4. Classes let out as hundreds of faculty gathered to hash over the topic, “Fac­ ulty Governance in an Emerging University.” It sounded dull, but the issue at stake was an important one: How should the existing faculty constitution be revised? No resolutions were passed and no vote was taken. But the large attendance at the conference itself was significant. Portland State College is on its way to becoming Portland State University. I t is no longer a question of whether it will happen—but when. That was the top PSC story out of the Oregon Legislature this year as State Senator Don Willner (D-Portland) dropped SB 31 into the hopper. The bill would appropriate $2 million to have the college begin offering courses in the fall of 1969 leading to PhD’s in biophysics and environmental science. Another $758,520 would be spent immediately to strengthen master’s degree programs. At the same time, the initials of the college would be changed from PSC to PSU. Offering doctoral programs is “vitally important to the business and industrial growth in the Portland area and throughout the state,” Willner told the State Board of Higher Education. Support for his bill came from the Portland Cham­ ber of Commerce, which prepared the original draft bill, and the Portland AFL-CIO. The only organized opposition was Associated Oregon Industries. The State Board reluctantly approved the bill, saying that offering doctoral programs by 1969 would upset the board’s timetable. I t sets 1971-73 as the time for PhD’s at PSC. Winner’s bill would also step up tbe planning of the Portland State administration. Under the original time schedule, the college would have offered master’s degrees across the board before jumping into PhD’s. But with the bill before him. Col­ lege President Branford P. Millar put his stamp of approval on the stepped up time schedule. “We must begin our prepa­ rations now,” he told the faculty senate. With two abstentions, the senate unanimously endorsed the bill. 112