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90th year of editorial freedom
John Drescher, Edn
ANN PETERS, Managing Editor
KEN MlNGIS, Associate Editor .
Rachel Perry, umvmUy Editor
Lucy Hood, cuy Editor
JIM WRINN, State and National Editor
S.L. PRICE, Sports Editor,
LAURA SEIFERT, Neu Editor
Linda Robertson, Associate Editor
Elaine Mc Cl atchey.
SUSAN HUDSON, Features Editor
. LEAH TALLEY, Arts Editor
Teresa Curry, Weekend Editor,
AL STEELE, Photography Editor
Chancellor Christopher C. For dham
In the minority
Some students will graduate from UNC without ever having a course
with a black or female professor. And if a current trend is any indication,
the longer a student stays here, the chances become slimmer and slimmer.
Blacks comprise 2.7 percent of the University faculty for the 1982 fall
semester, according to a report issued by Chancellor Christopher C.
Fordham. The percentage of women faculty is 19.2 percent. Even more
discouraging than the low percentages is the fact that both figures repre
sent a decline. - .
The University's progress in recruiting minority students must not
overshadow its poor performance in hiring minority faculty. Those
dwindling numbers represent a step backward. For a university that
prides itself on being one of the best in the South, its record on black and
female faculty presence is stunningly unexemplary.
Has UNC become complacent? Certainly, there are several barriers to
attracting more minority faculty members to Chapel Hill and keeping
them here. Historically, the South has not been a land of opportunity for
blacks or women. Chapel Hill does not have a substantial middle class
black population; most black professors choose to live in Durham. Poor
economic times have been complicated by Gov. Jim Hunt's salary freeze
for state employees. .
It is also difficult to win the numbers game. Although 1,100 blacks
earned Ph.D.s in 1980, 55 percent of those were in the field of education,
while not a single black was granted a doctoral degree in computer
science. The problem is compounded by the fact that UNC is competing
with the rest of the nation for a scarce resource, a piece of that valuable
pool of qualified applicants.
Gillian Cell, UNC's Affirmative Action officer, said one goal was to
start building that pool at an earlier stage by identifying talented black
students and ensuring that they are advised about the possibility of an
academic career. She also is encouraging departments to contact graduate
programs around the country to track down promising Ph.D. candidates.
Cell also is seeking an evaluation of a new " Vitabank" service set up by
several universities as a reservoir of information about black scholars.
But UNC's hiring process does not always have a good reputation
among those scholars.
"Is the University sincere? After the consent decree was handed down
and the numbers of minority faculty actually decreased, people got the
impression we really don't care," said English professor J. Lee Greene, a
member of the Black FacultyStaff Caucus.
In addition to emphasizing the quality of applicants recruited, UNC
also should look to the. quality of those doing the recruiting. If depart
mental search committees are dominated by white males, chances are
greater that those hired will also be white males.
When visiting black applicants leave UNC with an unfavorable impres
sion, the news spreads to other prospective professors. When female ap
plicants discover they may become the only woman in a department, they
seekamoje progressive
mustJbe : broken in both cases. Having black or female professors pn
search committees when possible would add needed diversity to the selec
tion process.
Subtler forms of sexism and racism may have crept into the system. A
high turnover rate among new black and female faculty may reflect how
uncomfortable they feel after arriving at UNC .
There are only 44 blacks and 267 women in tenure-track positions at
UNC. Furthermore, the Chancellor's report shows that minority
presence is decreasing. Stagnation is one thing, but regression is quite
another. Diversity is an important element at any university. Most
students here can count on one hand the number of times they have not
been taught by a white male. Because of that, they leave UNC with a part
of their education incomplete.
BSM renewal
By KERR Y DEROCHI
In January 1981, Janice Murphy, a
freshman from Atlanta, read in The Daily
Tar Heel that the chancellor had been ill
over Christmas. Murphy was not sure
what the chancellor did or who he was.
She only remembered hearing through fall
orientation that he was important and a
"good guy."
Murphy decided to write the chancellor
and wish him well. Within two weeks he
had replied, thanking. her for the card. He
said he hoped to meet her soon.
Since then, Murphy has dropped by the
chancellor's office twice a semester to
leave a note or just say hello.
Each time, he responds two weeks later
with a letter. A
In describing the chancellor, those who
know Christopher C. Fordham III always
mentioned what they call a remarkable
sense for the other person. His concern is
as much for the freshman struggling
through an introductory chemistry course
as it is for a chancellor at another major
university. His job is demanding and
powerful and he continues to view it with a
combination of humility and exhilaration.
"The University is so big and so com
plicated and so important that you have to
kind of hope and wonder if you're able to
do it," Fordham said recently. "Nobody
can really 'run it.' I have no desire to run
the lives of students and faculty members. .
I do the best I can to create an environ
ment and help them have the tools for
which they can develop themselves. That's
what the University is all about."
Every day Fordham meets with the ad
ministration, lawmakers and UNC alum
ni. He lobbies in Chapel Hill, Raleigh and
Washington, D.C., for' the University.
Yet, on most Sunday afternoons, he can
be found next to the Old Well ready to
greet anyone who passes by. Much of his
spare time is allotted to answering letters,
cards and gifts.
At the helm of a major southern univer
sity, Fordham characterizes the traditional
southern gentleman. He is skilled in mak
ing polite conversation; a visitor to his of
fice is always greeted with a warm smile
and a handshake. He directs the conversa
tion away from himself. The visitor leaves
with the impression that the chancellor has
taken an interest in him. Fordham will
remember the name. And he always says
"thank you" for dropping by.
But beneath the polished manners and
the impeccable style, Fordham is deter
mined. He speaks with clarity and
forcefulness about issues facing the
University and himself. He knows what
course the University should take.
Fordham is like the town around which
his life has been anchored, a community
characterized with an easygoing style, but
underneath, housing some-of the brightest
minds and most driving ambitions in the
country.
Later Fordham applied to only one
University. He received a certificate in
medicine here before setting off for Har
vard medical school. He then returned to
North Carolina Memorial Hospital to
complete his residency before starting a
Greensboro practice. After becoming a
faculty member at the University in 1958,
Fordham began moving up the University
ladder. He left UNC to be dean of the
school of medicine at the Medical College
of Georgia in Augusta. Two years later, he
returned to UNC as dean of the medical
school. He later served as vice chancellor
for health affairs. And in 1977, he was of
fered a position in the Department of
Health, Education and Welfare by former
president Jimmy Carter, but he turned it
down.
Today Fordham, 56, still shakes his
head as if in disbelief of all that has hap
pened. In his offices in South building, he
works under the watchful eyes of former
chancellors whose portraits decorate the
walls. Large book cases filled with annual
reports of University finances and policy
have replaced his medical textbooks and
floor. ; ..
The chancellor was diagnosed as having
suffered a mild stroke. He was hospi
talized two days later when he began his
recovery program. Each day for the next
month, the chancellor was put through the
rigorous physical and occupation therapy.
He had to learn to walk again.
The chancellor returned home in Jan
uary. One month later, he made his first
public appearance at the Morehead Plan
etarium where he spoke at a benefit. And
in March he returned to work part time.
Fordham now sees a doctor once every
six months. The traces of his stroke have
disappeared except for a limp in his left
leg. At times, he has trouble moving his
left arm.
"Of course it shook me up consider
ably," Fordham said. "It changed the
whole course of my life.
"I really have gotten back in control of
my life which is the most important thing.
That's what you lose in the hospital; you
lose control of your own destiny."
X
V Km 0 - A
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For the Black Student Movement, this has been a difficult semester.
The BSM constantly has had to battle a never-ending series of internal
problems that has made it difficult for the organization to function effec
tively or gain the respect of black students that it desperately needs. It's
time for the group and esoeciallv its Central Committee and upper
hierarchy to take a cold, objective look at itself and re-evaluate what it
should be doing for the University's black community.
The problems of the BSM primarily have been internal, not external as
some of the group's members have claimed. This fall, the BSM had a
series of organizational problems that didn't seem to end: two drives to im--peach
BSM chairperson Wende Watson; the resignation of Central Com
. jnittee executives because of academic and administrative problems; the
freezing of BSM funds because of Treasury' Law violations; and other
problems involving personnel disputes and the general operation of the
BSM.
That is not to say the BSM has not had accomplishments. The main
purpose of the BSM, according'to acting chairperson William Bland, is to
preserve the cultural presence of blacks on campus. In that the group has
been successful. ,
The BSM has been less successful, however, in its non-cultural ac
tivities. The group has participated in activities like Pre-Orientation and
the recruitment of black students to UNC, but there appears to be much
more the organization can do to serve the needs of blacks.
That, however, is up to the BSM to decide. The BSM must now ask
itself what its goals should be in non-cultural activities. No one is ques
tioning the BSM's right to exist; there is clearly a need for the organiza
tion. But to achieve more for the black community, the organization
must have a more clearly stated purpose. .
The first action to take would be for the BSM Central Committee
members to make an active effort to communicate with their consti
tuents. Too often the Central Committee has operated in a secret,
clandestine fashion that has alienated general body members and limited
the interaction between the Central Committee and other BSM members.
It's also important for the group's leaders not to overreact and become
defensive at criticism of their actions. Constructive criticism, from both
within and outside the BSM, is an attempt to improve the organization;
brandishing those critical of current politics as anti-BSM or racist can on
ly serve as a destructive force.
It is clear that the BSM cannot effectively serve the University if it con
tinues to be mired in the often petty problems of its hierarchy. The
group's reputation has been damaged in the University community and
with blacks themselves. Of the 1,700 black students at UNC, only about
300 are BSM members; that figure is down from about 500 members one
year ago. ;
That damage certainly is not irreparable. On Jan. 25, the BSM will
have the opportunity to vote for a new leader or retain current chairper
son Watson. Meanwhile, BSM members should re-evaluate what they v
think the organization should strive to do. With good leadership and a
new, fresh commitment to serving the black community, the BSM can
put the problems of this semester behind it and build a stronger, more ef
fective organization. . , .
Christopher Columbus Fordham III
was born in Greensboro on Nov. 28, 1926,
and caught his first taste of Carolina fever
soon after. With a father who now owns a
drugstore and who graduated from UNC,
cheering for the teams in blue and white
just followed naturally. On special occa
sions he and his older brother, Henry,
would be able to cheer for the football
team with the rest of the crowd in Kenan
stadium.
"It took on a great deal of glamour and
inspiration on a young person's part when
he'd visit this campus," Fordham said. "I
was just fairly typical in this regard; I
thought there was nothing like it."
Chancellor Fordham (I) with UNC
- . ... the chancellor grew up with
journals. The New York Times Guide to
Colleges is displayed on the coffee table.
He and his wife, Barbara, live in a
spacious brick home on Country Club
Drive. The house, owned by the Universi
ty, is just a short distance from the
couple's first home in Chapel Hill a
rented room and bath.
In those days, Mrs. Fordham would
spend hours quizzing her husband on
medical terminology. Now she is busy
:iejtfiii&&
.The Fordhams seem to understand the
role they play at. the University. Fordham
says the people attending alumni meetings
or other functions are there to meet the
chancellor, not Christopher C. Fordham.
"I'm absolutely aware of the fact that
the University does not depend on me, and
the things I've got to give it are my limited
talents and what energy and ideas I have
and my integrity," Fordham said. "Those
are the things I will give. And I think I can
give them without becoming overly-imbued
with a sense of self-importance."
Two years ago, the chancellor's career
with the University was seriously threat
ened. A week before Christmas, he had
returned to Chapel Hill angry and upset
from meetings with federal government
officials in Washington. The scheduled
meetings had been delayed, meaning an
extra trip after Christmas. Early the next
morning, Fordham slipped while getting
out of bed and fell unconscious to the
x
DTHJeff Neuville
basketball's Smith and Worthy
UNC and now runs the school
It's this willingness to fight back adver
sity that is typical of the chancellor's ap
proach to the issues facing him and the
University.
"Something I've never really learned is
remorseless leisure," Fordham said. "And
so back when I was a house officer, even
when I didn't have to be at the hospital at
night, I'd feel like I had to be reading my
latest journals or a textbook, always trying
,to keep, up, jta Jbe ahead. . ,
Aevehirt ptactice;; I'd' feel like I
"needed to be ready, to be at the cutting
edge." ,
- As chancellor, being on the cutting edge
meant being ready to face issues inherent
in any large institution today. Fordham
said he believes the largest problem now
facing the University is the economy.
He cites problems such as an inadequate
food service and housing shortage. But he
is particularly disappointed with recruit
ment of black faculty members. Two
weeks ago, a report presented to the Facul
ty Council showed that the number of
black faculty members had decreased for
the second year in a row. On Monday,.
, about 40 students marched across campus
in protest of the low numbers.
Fordham blames the numbers on the
difficulty of retaining black faculty in a
southern university environment. He be
lieves the recruitment practices now in use
have helped in some ways. "We've gotten
some excellent students and some excellent
faculty," Fordham said. "I think (the pro
grams) have paid off in the sense there's
been obvious achievement by minority
students and minority faculty. We now
have an alumni group of black graduates
and they're very impressive and very
energetic.
"So much has been achieved, but so
much more has to be achieved that I'm not
satisfied with anything."
In answer to criticism that the University
places too much emphasis on research,
neglecting the importance of classroom
performance, Fordham sides with the need
for quality research.
"We're talking about reaching for the
stars intellectually, and that requires ex
citing and creative minds," Fordham said.
"So in that sense if you want to go to a
four-year college, where there's no large
scholarly library, where there's no scholar
ly faculty but where you're spoon-fed
courses, this is not the college to come to.
This is a college where professors are
researchers and where they are at the fron
tier of knowledge in their field.
"Students who come here should be the
kind that want that."
Though tackling these tough issues
everyday, Fordham has always tried to
leave time for students. In a given day he
will meet with student leaders in the morn
ing to discuss University policy and chat
. with those dropping by in the afternoon.
One day a group of third graders lost their
way to the Morehead Planetarium and
ended up in the chancellor's lobby. For
dham opened his door, walked out and
spoke to them for several minutes. Two
weeks ago, he spoke to a class of sixth
graders at an area elementary school in
honor of American Education Week.
It's during the summer months and
holidays that Fordham can relax with
family and friends. He counts his family
life as a large reason for his success: He
remembers his own childhood when Fri
day nights were reserved for the whole
family to sit down and play cards or go to
a movie.
In between his duty as chancellor and
his own family, Fordham still finds time to
golf with a close friend, head basketball
coach Dean Smith. The two had met 25
years ago and started playing golf together
a few years later. Smith describes Fordham
as a leader who has given his life in service
to the University and to the medical pro
fessioni. "We never dreamed he'd be back
(after the stroke) hitting the ball so far, so
well." Smith said. "I think it shows a great
deal of dedication on his part."
Smith added that the golf should be the
relaxing part of the chancellor's schedule.
"But he's such a competitor, he doesn't
even relax out there," Smith said,
laughing.
iff 'J-' 9f
Fordham' s formula for success is sim
ple: If a person is fulfilled professionally
and in family life, he is successful. He
refuses to speak of his strengths or
weaknesses. And he qualifies any mention
of achievement with a concern for future
goals.
"One important thing, and one I hope I
haven't changed in that regard is that peo
ple that get into positions of prominence
and prestige, such as to head up this in
stitution, is not to take themselves too
seriously, not to make the mistake that the
institution is them," Fordham said. "I
would like to hand down the chancellor
ship some years hence and feel like the job
was well done. I don't feel I'd be proud
until then. I think I'd like to be able to
have a sense of satisfaction about it.
"I think I will."
Keny DeRochi is a senior journalism
and English major from Greensboro.
WAL TER '
Concern for stranger outweighs studying for tests and writing papers
By MIKE DESIST!
Not much could be better than a couple of eggs over
easy, a few strips of bacon, a hot, buttered biscuit and a
plate full of grits from the Waffle Shop on a Sunday
morning, especially with a week's worth of work to do in
the afternoon ahead. But a confrontation with a not-too-pieasant
reality can have quite a souring effect on any
stomachful. Take i from someone who knows firsthand.
I was walking back 'from Franklin Street after such a
breakfast a couple of idays ago, trying to figure out what
would be better jxworse for that matter: spending the
last day of Thanksgiving recess sleeping over in the stacks
at Wilson Library, or bored in one of the booths in the
Under grad. Such was my perilous predicament. I had yet
to make a decision when along came Walter, shuffling
down the brick path on North Campus, past Silent Sam
and on toward town.
Walter and I hadn't met, at least not until he asked me .
if he was going the right way to get to the "Chapel Hill
Hospital." He was a tall, young, black man, with an afro
that looked more like a wiry mushroom cap than a head
of hair. Walter had on a pair of mustard-colored Con
verse high-tops. With' his jeans making it only halfway
down his legs to just below the knee, I could trace the
laces to the very last eyelets. ;
I told him I wasn't sure if there was a Chapel Hill
Hospital. I kind of wished there were, though, so I could '
get this character on his way. Walter wasn't your typical
UNC student. Walter just wasn't typical. He looked as if
he were going to fall asleep standing up, and I found
myself hoping for a moment that he would, so I could
run. He didn't look hurt, but he didn't appear to be all
that well, either. I asked him what was wrong, and he told
me.
Walter said he was all messed up on drugs. And then he
asked me for a joint. He needed to straighten up, he add
ed, justifying his request. I didn't argue with that, but told
him I didn't smoke anything. Then I pointed him in the
direction of N.C. Memorial Hospital, figuring if birds
could fly South without a map, Walter could do it on
foot.
But I really felt bad doing that, so' I called him back. I
asked him, rather foolishly, if he needed help. I guess I
just needed to hear him come out and say it for himself.
And he did, so I decided to walk him to the hospital. The
N.C. Memorial Hospital. (
I asked Walter what kind of drugs he was taking. He
told me pills. He was an entertainer, you see, and he said
the people in the entertainment business had made him
take these pills to help him perform. I asked him what
kind of an entertainer he was. Walter said he was an all
around entertainer; he could sing, dance, and act You
name it.
I approached the receptionist to see what was going to
happen to Walter. She explained that Walter had been to
N.C. Memorial before, on his own will, and had been ad
mitted to a local mental hospital, but had apparently been
released. And the way I took it, the same thing was about
to happen all over again. Walter was harmless, she said,
. he just had some problems.
This was rather obvious to me. What I wanted to know
was why no one took the time to stop and think about
what those problems really were. Sure, he was doing
drugs, but why? Only because he had nothing better to
shook Walter's hand, wished him luck, and left to my world of worry; I
had papers and tests to grieve over. But then I had to stop and wonder.
Who really had the problem me or him?
When I asked where he was from, Walter told me, "no
place, really." Walter had no job; they were too hard to
find. He had dropped out of high school, mostly because
he devoted too much time to his "exercises" those type
of things entertainers do to improve their performing
abililties.
I wasn't sure just what to make of this guy Walter, but I
did know he needed help. And so did he. I took him to
emergency admissions at N.C. Memorial, ignoring the
gaping eyes and giggles as I walked down the hospital halls
with my new acquaintance.
The receptionist recognized Walter immediately. He
told her the same thing he had told me. He was messed up
on drugs, and needed help. When the woman asked him
where he lived, he told her. Nowhere. She asked where his
mother lived. He told her she was dead. She asked about
his father. He told her his father lived in Morrisville, but
he didn't know the address or the phone number.
The receptionist then told him to have a seat in a little
room directly across from the desk, and said she'd get a
'doctor to have a look at him. Walter took a pack of
cigarettes from his coat pocket, thanked her, and went in
to the room and had a smoke.
do, and he probably never would with people taking his
social deviance for granted and just dismissing him as a
misfit all with smile.
I shook Walter's hand, wished him luck, and left to my
world of worry; I had papers and tests to grieve over. But
then I had to stop and wonder. Who really hadjthe prob
lem me or him? All academics aside, I had walked
away. Sure, I took him to the hospital. But now I was
turning my back on a boy who simply needed someone to
talk to, someone to listen, and someone to care. Walter
just needed a friend.
But I had already helped my old lady across the street
for the day. I went back to the Undergrad library, to
learn. And I did, only not about the Parliamentary elec
tion system in West Germany or catharsis of the liver. I
learned a little bit about life, and about myself the hard
way.
Mike DeSisti, a sophomore English and journalism ma
jor from Greece, N. Y., is assistant sports editor of The
Daily Tar Heel. -