June 7, 1948 – In a preview of what many Americans of both parties hoped to see soon in the nation's capital, World War II hero Dwight D. Eisenhower took office in a job for which he had little if any prior experience—President of Columbia University.
Thirty years later, as one of 30 or so freshmen who were much more callow than we thought, I listened as the instructor in our Contemporary Civilization (CC) class related a story about the school's former head.
Thirty years later, as one of 30 or so freshmen who were much more callow than we thought, I listened as the instructor in our Contemporary Civilization (CC) class related a story about the school's former head.
Back in the 1940s, he said, the school's trustees intended to offer its presidency to someone who combined terrific executive ability with a highly regarded academic resume.
But instead, someone made the grave mistake of offering the post not to Milton Eisenhower (then the president of Kansas State, later of Johns Hopkins) to his more illustrious but academically at-sea brother, Dwight.
But instead, someone made the grave mistake of offering the post not to Milton Eisenhower (then the president of Kansas State, later of Johns Hopkins) to his more illustrious but academically at-sea brother, Dwight.
Once the mistake was made, it was too late to rescind the offer, and the university had to make do. When the war hero was elected President of the whole country, the faculty rejoiced: America's loss, the wisecrack went, would be Columbia's gain.
Sure, our instructor did label this "a story," and he didn't cite book, page and footnote number to bolster its credibility.
Sure, our instructor did label this "a story," and he didn't cite book, page and footnote number to bolster its credibility.
On the other hand, it wasn't labeled false, either—and, amid the Ivy League setting, with a tenured professor passing on this juicy little inside story, I'll bet not a few of us didn't come away believing, in some way or other, that it was true.
Only one problem: there was even less truth in it than the currently preposterous (not to mention contradictory) notion, being aired in certain conservative quarters, that Barack Obama is a secret Muslim agent who has bought into the Rev. Jeremiah Wright's brand of black Christian racism.
Only one problem: there was even less truth in it than the currently preposterous (not to mention contradictory) notion, being aired in certain conservative quarters, that Barack Obama is a secret Muslim agent who has bought into the Rev. Jeremiah Wright's brand of black Christian racism.
It just goes to show that, despite the traditional academic admonition about being current citation of sources—and, on occasion, skepticism about sources when that’s warranted—even our nation’s best and brightest forget a lifetime of what they spend teaching when it interferes with a) a great story (this is also a besetting Irish sin), and b) their own political prejudices.
Like the great majority of urban legends, this one began with a smidgen of truth: Ike himself, no scholar at West Point, told IBM head Thomas J. Watson, acting at the behest of the trustees to find a replacement for Nicholas Murray Butler, that Columbia would find paradise with brother Milton. Nothing doing, Watson responded: Ike was their man.
Now, why would the Columbia trustees go so far out of the box for a new President? Several reasons, I believe:
1) The need to find another Nicholas Murray Butler. Butler had been a Big Cheese: Vice-Presidential candidate for the Republican Party in 1912, candidate for President in 1920 and 1928, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1931 for his advocacy of international arbitration. He was used to being listened to, and had no qualms about making his voice heard. After the war, what other American could command such attention on the world stage as the man who had saved Europe from the clutches of Hitler?
2) The need to find a non-Butler. By the end of his 44 years as President, Butler had not only grown old but also visually and hearing impaired. The trustees badly needed someone younger, more vital. Now, you might not think that someone who smokes four packs of cigarettes a day, as Ike did at the time, would be a poster boy for vitality. But victory signifies strength—and, in any case, midway through his first term at Columbia, Ike not only accepted his doctor’s urging to cut down from four to one packs of cigarettes a day, but bettered it. He never had another cigarette for the rest of his life.
3) The need to rejuvenate fundraising. The strength of Butler’s ego was inversely proportional to his energy and his interest in fundraising. As a result, despite Columbia’s sterling reputation as one of the Ivy League colleges and its brilliant faculty, its physical plant was running down by the end of his tenure. They needed someone to raise money, and lots of it. That’s why the school, like other institutions of higher learning before and since (e.g., the New School with former Senator Bob Kerrey), turned to someone with a whole rolodex of military and political contacts—and goodwill galore.
4) Ike’s reputation as a master of men and diplomat among generals. Eisenhower’s ability to stay on the good side of FDR, Churchill and Stalin would have been remarkable in and of itself. Better yet, he had kept George S. Patton and Bernard Montgomery from murdering each other. Here, the reasoning must have become irresistible: think of what he could do in mediating the squabbles of equally egocentric (if slightly less testosterone-filled) academic deans and trustees?
Okay, Professor Mike T. has been assigned the task of grading Eisenhower on his Presidency of Columbia. How does the general rate? Well, being that we’re the charitable sort (isn’t it great, that royal “we”), we’re going to assign Ike an “Incomplete.”
We’ll start with the plusses:
* Starting the Institute of War and Peace Studies. My CC prof assured us that Ike had wanted to name this the War Institute until someone had persuaded him that it would not have sounded so good. I’m unsure whether or not this is another academic urban legend or not. Whatever, as another (unsuccessful) Republican party war hero candidate would later say. Now known as the Arnold A. Saltzman Institute of War and Peace Studies (SIWPS), it continues to promote understanding of the “disastrous consequences of war upon man’s spiritual, intellectual, and material progress.”
Like the great majority of urban legends, this one began with a smidgen of truth: Ike himself, no scholar at West Point, told IBM head Thomas J. Watson, acting at the behest of the trustees to find a replacement for Nicholas Murray Butler, that Columbia would find paradise with brother Milton. Nothing doing, Watson responded: Ike was their man.
Now, why would the Columbia trustees go so far out of the box for a new President? Several reasons, I believe:
1) The need to find another Nicholas Murray Butler. Butler had been a Big Cheese: Vice-Presidential candidate for the Republican Party in 1912, candidate for President in 1920 and 1928, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1931 for his advocacy of international arbitration. He was used to being listened to, and had no qualms about making his voice heard. After the war, what other American could command such attention on the world stage as the man who had saved Europe from the clutches of Hitler?
2) The need to find a non-Butler. By the end of his 44 years as President, Butler had not only grown old but also visually and hearing impaired. The trustees badly needed someone younger, more vital. Now, you might not think that someone who smokes four packs of cigarettes a day, as Ike did at the time, would be a poster boy for vitality. But victory signifies strength—and, in any case, midway through his first term at Columbia, Ike not only accepted his doctor’s urging to cut down from four to one packs of cigarettes a day, but bettered it. He never had another cigarette for the rest of his life.
3) The need to rejuvenate fundraising. The strength of Butler’s ego was inversely proportional to his energy and his interest in fundraising. As a result, despite Columbia’s sterling reputation as one of the Ivy League colleges and its brilliant faculty, its physical plant was running down by the end of his tenure. They needed someone to raise money, and lots of it. That’s why the school, like other institutions of higher learning before and since (e.g., the New School with former Senator Bob Kerrey), turned to someone with a whole rolodex of military and political contacts—and goodwill galore.
4) Ike’s reputation as a master of men and diplomat among generals. Eisenhower’s ability to stay on the good side of FDR, Churchill and Stalin would have been remarkable in and of itself. Better yet, he had kept George S. Patton and Bernard Montgomery from murdering each other. Here, the reasoning must have become irresistible: think of what he could do in mediating the squabbles of equally egocentric (if slightly less testosterone-filled) academic deans and trustees?
Okay, Professor Mike T. has been assigned the task of grading Eisenhower on his Presidency of Columbia. How does the general rate? Well, being that we’re the charitable sort (isn’t it great, that royal “we”), we’re going to assign Ike an “Incomplete.”
We’ll start with the plusses:
* Starting the Institute of War and Peace Studies. My CC prof assured us that Ike had wanted to name this the War Institute until someone had persuaded him that it would not have sounded so good. I’m unsure whether or not this is another academic urban legend or not. Whatever, as another (unsuccessful) Republican party war hero candidate would later say. Now known as the Arnold A. Saltzman Institute of War and Peace Studies (SIWPS), it continues to promote understanding of the “disastrous consequences of war upon man’s spiritual, intellectual, and material progress.”
* Keeping Lou Little from defecting to Yale. The beloved football coach pulled off what may still rank as the greatest upset in Rose Bowl history when the Lions edged Stanford 7-0 in the 1934 game. Fourteen years later, he was seriously weighing moving on to Yale when Eisenhower, as incoming president, persuaded him to stay, assuring him that he fit into his plans. It was Ike’s first major decision at the school—and, undoubtedly with a certain portion of the alumni, maybe his best. An old athlete himself, he may have been at his most actively engaged at the school when he became the football team’s most enthusiastic supporter at its home games at Baker Field.
* Excellent publicity for the school. You don’t need a hero to attract attention to your school, but it sure doesn’t hurt. Columbia’s prestige wasn’t hurt a mite during Ike’s tenure.
Now, the minuses:
· Dislike for fundraising. Maybe it’s in the DNA of war-hero GOP candidates. John McCain shows nowhere near the ability to shake money from trees that Obama does. Likewise, Ike loathed the dirty but necessary ability to raise money that is so important to a university president’s job. His jaundiced view of this aspect of his job is best illustrated by this quote: “Some years ago I became president of Columbia University and learned within 24 hours to be ready to speak at the drop of a hat, and I learned something more, the trustees were expected to be ready to speak at the passing of the hat.”
· Remoteness from students. On at least one memorable occasion, Eisenhower visited a history class and explained his military strategy in Europe. It was a tour de horizon that encompassed not just the immediate issues at hand, but also military strategy dating back to the ancients. It’s doubtful that anyone who ever sat in on that class ever believed the subsequent canard that Ike was an intellectually dim bulb. But, as he did when he became President of the United States, Eisenhower maintained the chain of command structure that had served him so well in the military, with him on top, above the fray. The unfortunate result was that, to some extent, he displayed a Butleresque lack of rapport with students.
· Inability to focus on the job for long. Eisenhower was always being called on to appear or testify about one thing or another. Naturally, this disrupted his ability to concentrate on university-related issues. The worst instance of this, of course, occurred in December 1950, when Eisenhower was tracked down at another school appearance by President Harry Truman, who said he needed him to take over as supreme commander of NATO forces in Europe. Ike agreed to don the uniform again, taking temporary leave of his job at Columbia. Grayson Kirk, whom Eisenhower had installed as Provost after coming to Morningside Heights, became acting President in his stead, assuming the post permanently when Ike left to take over the country. Kirk was still in his position on Morningside Heights when the 1968 student protests brought his tenure at the school to an ignominious end.
That leave would become permanent after he became President of the United States.
Throughout my four years at Columbia, I was fascinated by a painting of Eisenhower taken during his time at the school. Few of the great university’s presidents have left less of an impact on Morningside Heights than Eisenhower, who probably felt out of his element here from his first day to his last. None of those Presidents, however, made more of an impact on national and international life as its 13th President.
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