Monday, Mar. 17, 1980

Dilapidation in Academe

Under all that ivy, costly college halls and walls are crumbling

At the University of Massachusetts' Amherst campus the red brick fac,ade of the 28-story library has turned into a new sort of flying buttress. Since last fall, chunks of brick have come crashing onto the surrounding concrete patio, which is now fenced off to protect passing students. At California's San Jose State University, badly fitting window frames caused drafts that sent shivering nude models scurrying from the art studio. The 30 models, aged 21 to 52, went on strike, in part because they were tired of posing clad only in "goose flesh." At San Francisco State University, an electric fan, running some 14 hours a day, is all that keeps the library's transformer from overheating--and breaking down. At an Ivy League university, maintenance crews had to tie rags around floor-to-ceiling columns to funnel water leaking from the roof into buckets. When full, the buckets were emptied out a nearby window and set back in place.

Such stories are not unusual on many U.S. campuses today. Visiting parents, barely used to finding their children knee-deep in noise and petty vandalism, are now, like universities themselves, encountering organic dilapidation in academe. For want of maintenance, roofs leak, ceilings crumble, fuses blow, pipes go bump in the night and expire. According to the National Association of College and University Business Officers, it would take roughly $30 billion just to catch up with accumulated neglect of campus buildings.

About 70% of all college buildings in the U.S. were erected after 1950, more than one-third of them in an eight-year spurt following 1966, when federal funds flowed freely and administrators hustled to accommodate the baby boom. Cutting corners with low-grade materials, designers often created buildings that aged prematurely and consumed heating oil as if it would cost 160 per gal. forever. With their budgets severely strained, school officials have paid only for the absolute necessities: soaring energy bills, teachers' salaries, research costs. As a result, maintenance budgets have shrunk proportionally, just as buildings and machinery have begun to fall apart. Georgia's state university system, for instance, estimates it needs $12 million annually to get the buildings on its 32 campuses back into shape, but last year spent only $2.25 million.

State legislatures and rich alumni naturally prefer to contribute to a prestigious project like a science lab, often without providing money to maintain it. Says Sy Zachar, an analyst working on a study of physical plant maintenance funded by the Carnegie Corp.: "It's easy to find some foundation eager to donate a new tax-deductible library or a shiny new anything. But what donor wants to put a plaque on a steam pipe?" At the University of California at Berkeley, administrators nickname the list of "deferred maintenance" problems the "Crummy and Seedy Project."

Another difficulty is that alumni and administrators rarely see, or quite believe, the slow, steady decay that goes on. Says Paul T. Knapp, executive director of the Association of Physical Plant Administrators of Universities and Colleges: "Up East they cover it with ivy, so you can't see the buildings falling apart. People tend to think these places are too important to wear out." But in maintenance, a stitch in time means long-term salvation. Says William Massy, a vice president at Stanford University: "The trick is to put small amounts of money in early, before the sewer backs up or the lights go out." But, Keith Spalding, president of Franklin and Marshall College, points out, "very few private colleges depreciate their buildings. It is tempting to balance the budget by failing to fix the roof." Case in point: last year the University of New Hampshire neglected a leaky roof. Because of whiter snow seepage, not only the roof but ceilings and interior walls needed repair.

Because legislatures are somewhat freer with money than alumni, private universities have fallen further behind than public. Some schools, especially in the Midwest, have kept up with maintenance problems by appropriating renewal funds. But most campuses are in trouble. Says Paul Romberg, president of San Francisco State: "Deterioration of buildings has been so severe we may have to consider curtailing some academic programs." The "millions" needed for repair, says Romberg, "are a small investment compared with the enormous potential loss to taxpayers."

One way of coping at least with the look of college dorms, which potential donors tend to see first, may be to enlist student support. In an experiment in "dormitory democracy," students at the University of Connecticut took over all the lighter maintenance in one older dorm: building walls, painting, waxing, replacing light bulbs. For six years the plan has kept costs down. And giving the students responsibility also has cut back significantly on vandalism.

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