The unraveling of Upsala CollegeMaureen Doyle Upsala 1972 "We both know what memories can bring MORRO BAY - "Diamonds and Rust" was the first song I heard after getting the news from a college friend that our alma mater, Upsala College in East Orange, N.J., was closing. After the news sunk in, I felt something stronger than say, betrayal by the Beatles' breaking up but not quite the gut-wrench of a family death. I've been ruminating about my Upsala experience with pleasant memories outweighing the unpleasant about 4 to 1. Yet it took over a week for me to summon the courage to phone the school. I called the admissions office and was connected to the "Transfer Assistance" department. Rafael Armstrong, a graduating senior from San Juan, Puerto Rico, answered the phone. At first, he thought I was calling about the news coverage of the student/faculty demonstrations in early March over the school's closing. This was the first I'd heard of it. There was no violence but a few arrests were made. Rafael tried to sound upbeat while updating me about the college's (in)activities: football was the first to go because of prohibitive costs. The license for radio station WFMU had been sold as had many college buildings. The last issue of the college newspaper, The Upsala Gazette was published for graduation in May 1993. Rafael was, technically, still editior. I can't imagine senior year without a yearbook. The Upsalite was last published in 1992, with the '93 and '94 editions unfinished. There was no money for one in 1995. In my freshman year, the 75th anniversary edition of the yearbook was 242 pages; by my senior year it had dropped to 200 for whatever reasons. Several options were being considered for the contents of the college library, which at one time had over 100,000 volumes. The building itself seems destined to become the property of the City of East Orange. Founded in 1893, Upsala celebrated its 75th anniversary during my freshman year. The Swedish Lutheran liberal arts college had about 1,400 students, charged $1,200 in tuition each semester, attracted people with names like Torgny and Gunnar and suited my purpose pretty well. I had a boyfriend at Columbia and wanted to stay close to home. Attending Upsala allowed me to stay local, attend an accredited school, yet not spend a king's ransom on tuition. Freshman year was before dungarees, pea coats and desert boots supplanted the Villager clothes and Weejun shoes worn by blonde, blue-eyed Lutheran students from New England. Ladies wore dresses or skirts to dinner and most classes; gents wore jackets. Yearbook photos show female grads in traditional drape and males in suits and ties. One notable exception was the remarkably shaved head of newspaper co-editor, Mark E. Jampolsky. He was, as I recall, responsible for the newspaper's subscription to Liberation News, which I inherited when I became editor. The paper ran some stories which had some alumni eyebrows raised above their hairlines. Upsala was not immune to the college upheavals nationwide in the early '70s and even had its own student demonstrations covered by The New York Times. Duly noted were the 95 demands (it is a LUTHERan school, after all) nailed on a centrally located tree. Positions taken by WFMU and the Gazette often reflected the overall contempt toward authority rampant in those days. So, what could bring about the unraveling of a stable 100-year-old school? In the '70s, when colleges hd healthy enrollments despite the Vietnam War, Upsala had this written policy describing the Timothy J. Still Program: "Because of the urgent education needs of the community, Upsala recruits educationally and economically disadvantaged students from New Jersey, especially from the immediate, surrounding area. "Although traditional admissions procedures are not employed in the selection of Still Program students, Still students must maintain their academic standing ... . Supportive services, including tutors, are provided throughout the first years of college. All students admitted to the program receive financial aid, which covers most expenses. Applicants must be ineligible for admission to Upsala on a regular, competitive basis but must possess a high school diploma or the equivalent ..." What that meant to many of us was that our parents had paid full tuition and room and board while these new admissions not only didn't qualify to be admitted, but didn't pay, either. Upsala is located a stone's throw from Newark, which had had widely publicized riots as well as many other urban problems. College officials no doubt sought to make the school more relevant and puff up enrollment figures by being less stringent with its admission policies. But as with any business or nation in trouble, there's a false bottom to a plan that provides goods and services without paying customers. What Upsala did,in essence, is accept less scholastically prepared students with little or no hope of paying tution and give them "an opportunity". Sounds good on paper and no one would accuse the school of not trying to do the right thing. Some of these same problems exist today with the business known as the USA. We need to take extra special care of the working person who, by working and paying taxes, foots the bill for the goods and services enjoyed by all Americans. Upsala may have had many good years ahead if - aside from the downturns of the national economy - admissions policies had attracted more of the tutition-paying segment of the student body and tried less to please everyone. As for Rafael, he'll graduate with a dual major of religion and philosophy and minor in communications. He's hoping to hear any day from the Columbia School of Journalism. For right now, his is a sad job: to answer the "Transfer Assistance" phone; sadder still is the job of disconnecting it on May 31, 1995. Maureen Doyle, a 1972 graduate of Upsala College, came to San Luis Obispo County in August 1984. She has worked at the Telegram-Tribune since 1988 and lives in Morro Bay. |
