The Rollins Row

Few disputes on U.S. campuses ever make the front pages or catch the big headlines. But they can be waged with all the fury and bitterness of any congressional debate. One such case back in the news last week was the story of what happened to a school superintendent in Pasadena, Calif, (see next page). Another, even more emotional row was being fought out at little (630 students) Rollins College in Winter Park, Fla.

At the center of the dispute was 33-year-old President Paul A. Wagner, who had swept into office only two years ago to the loud acclaim of trustees, faculty and students alike. What happened to Rollins, and to President Wagner, was a classic and tragic example of the dilemma to which well-intentioned and fair-minded men on both sides of an argument can come.

A Heavenly Year. At first glance, Wagner and Rollins had seemed a perfect team --the union of a lively and energetic president with a lively and imaginative campus. Like any new broom, Wagner made a few mistakes. Some professors took a dim view of his enthusiasm for visual aids, which he had developed as No. 2 man at Chicago's Bell & Howell Co. ("After all," complained one professor, "he did make that startling prediction that only 5% of the people would be reading books in 50 years"). Some students resented his attempts to tighten up Rollins' traditionally free & easy ways.

But, Wagner recalls, "my first year at Rollins was a heavenly one," and on the surface, the majority of Rollins was inclined to agree. The real source of the trouble ahead was buried in Rollins' past. From ex-President Hamilton Holt, Wagner had inherited a debt of $500,000, and the interest on that alone was eating up every bit of endowment income. It was when Wagner tried to do something about Rollins' shaky finances that the trouble began to come out into the open.

At first, he tried to economize without stepping on any sensitive toes. He stopped intercollegiate football, cut off the air conditioning, put stew on the menu. He all but abandoned his hopes for an audiovisual education program. Finally, faced with an expected 27% drop in enrollment next fall, Wagner turned to his trustees for a solution. The trustees agreed to cut the faculty by 30% (TIME, March 19).

The trustees made up a mathematical formula for the cuts based on seniority. Then they told him to go ahead and carry out the formula. When he announced the names of those to go, the storm broke.

The Hurricane. The faculty was stunned to find that the list included not only young, newly appointed instructors, but also such top, long-established men as English Professor Nathan C. Starr and Biologist Paul A. Vestal. The fact that the firings had been made by trustee formula did not soothe faculty feelings. Why, the faculty wanted to know, were the top professors not consulted? Why did the cuts have to be so drastic? Why had Wagner stuck by the formula when he knew that he was eliminating some of his ablest and most popular men?

Overnight, the storm blew into a hurricane. Those who before had been inclined to overlook Wagner's minor errors, suddenly began blowing them up to mammoth size. Pro-Wagner forces protested that he was being made the scapegoat for the trustees; anti-Wagner forces replied with demands for his head. Soon partisans of both sides were unable to see anything in the case but angry blacks & whites. Old friends passed on the street without a word and the college chaplain despairingly admitted: "I never knew that so much evil could flow." Wagner himself, showing the strain of the campaign, lost 20 Ibs. in seven weeks.

The Verdict. In the mounting ruckus, calmness and common sense were lost. By last week the Kappa Alpha fraternity had threatened to pull out of Rollins en masse unless Wagner resigned. Someone put a "For Sale" sign in front of Wagner's house as an unmistakable hint. Some seniors demanded that ex-President Holt hand out their diplomas rather than Wagner. _ And even Hamilton Holt, Wagner's original sponsor, reversing himself, lent his powerful voice to the anti-Wagner camp.

At week's end, a majority of the trustees, gathered in Manhattan for an emergency session, finally stepped in to call a halt to the whole tragic affair. Before they could reach a decision, they received one final shock: Rollins' idolized ex-President Holt died in Putnam, Conn., at 78 (see MILESTONES).

The trustees adjourned to attend his funeral, then returned to Manhattan. This week they were ready with a verdict which recognized the fact that Wagner, right or wrong, could no longer remain as president. They made it clear that they wanted him to resign.

But whether Paul Wagner resigned or not, the scars of the conflict would remain. Rollins would have a long way to go before it ever got back to normal.

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