So What’s the Deal??: Columbia-Barnard Relations (1979-1983)

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Graphic by Stephanie Mannheim and Cleo Levin

To Merge or not to Merge?

In the 1880s, the president of Columbia, Fredrick A.P. Barnard, argued for the admission of women to Columbia University. When his efforts were unsuccessful, Annie Nathan Meyer, a self-educated scholar, took up his cause and petitioned the University for an independent liberal arts college for women connected to Columbia. In 1889, Barnard College was founded.

Eighty years into Barnard’s existence, both Barnard and Columbia agreed that the schools needed to reassess their relationship. The politically radical atmosphere of the 1960s had made students at both colleges question the continuing relevancy of a single-sex education, and Barnard feminists began to think of separate curricula as discriminatory. The Columbia administration also had qualms about the relationship between the schools, but for different reasons. Beginning in the 1960s, Columbia had been struggling financially and began to examine Barnard as a place to cut costs. In reaction to the discontent from both the student bodies and the Columbia administration, the Committees on Instruction established the Barnard College-Columbia College Joint Committee on Cooperation in April 1969. Student senators and members of select academic departments came together to discuss the possibilities for increased collaboration.

Fluid enrollment?

The Joint Committee on Cooperation saw the main difference between the two institutions existing in their academic goals. They stated that Columbia’s general education program “makes available to students a wide range of intellectual experience” while Barnard’s emphasis was on “the flexibility of the program, with a minimal distribution requirement, the possibility of early specialization, and a number of interdisciplinary programs.”  The Committee suggested that both schools maintain their present corporate identities, with Barnard admitting only women and Columbia admitting only men, but allowing the students to complete the academic program of either college.

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Barnard and Columbia students protest in Morningside Heights, 1972

One academic enterprise?

The Columbia administrators had different ideas about collaboration. The dean of the graduate faculties, George Fraenkel, had been recruited to work on merging Columbia’s constituent colleges to cut costs. Fraenkel found that Barnard had not been paying enough for the numbers of students enrolled in Columbia courses. Nor were they paying for facilities, namely Barnard’s use of Columbia’s research library. Rather than preserving the school’s separate curricula, Fraenkel’s focus was on eliminating inefficiency in redundant course offerings. He sent letters to various departments in 1976 encouraging them to create “V” courses, joint-listings between Barnard and Columbia. Ultimately, Fraenkel saw the school’s academic programs merging; he wrote to Columbia President William McGill that there should be “one academic enterprise with one set of co-educational courses, one curriculum, one set of departments and one faculty.” The separation between the colleges would remain in finances, admissions, and extra-curricular activities.

“Small Barnard” retains its autonomy and Columbia goes Co-Ed

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Barnard-Columbia Dance 1942

In 1969, Princeton and Yale began admitting women, and Columbia’s peer institutions steadily followed suit. By the mid-60s, Columbia had already begun experiencing difficulties getting their pick of applicants, and, as other schools began to go co-ed, the quality of the Columbia applicants began to drop even further. Columbia was not only losing the potential for strong female students, but also the male applicants who would now choose to attend a co-ed institution. Admitting qualified females would increase the Columbia applicant pool and eliminate the problem of considering the less qualified males that had been applying. Yet, McGill held off, hoping to make Columbia more co-educational with Barnard. Columbia administrators felt certain that accepting women would eliminate their sister school, and they wanted to prevent the bad blood and bad press that would accompany this decision.

When Ellen Futter assumed the Barnard presidency in the 1980, she encountered faculty and trustees divided over whether to merge with Columbia. Though there was a small contingency who prized the relationship with Columbia over Barnard’s personal agenda, the majority continued to champion “small Barnard” and women’s education. It became clear in the spring of 1981 that it would not be possible to reach a compromise between Barnard and Columbia’s values. The Columbia trustees voted to admit women to Columbia in May 1981, and women were able to enroll at the university starting in 1983.

Barnard Today

In the years after Columbia’s decision to admit women, Barnard struggled. There was skepticism from both institutions on what role Barnard would play after Columbia went co-ed. In 1983, of the women admitted to both Barnard and Columbia, 90% chose to go to Columbia. Even worse, as the women’s movement encouraged universities to hire more female faculty, many professors from Barnard were courted by rival schools like Princeton and City University.

Yet, the faculty and administration have been steadily working to cultivate this small women’s liberal arts college, and the school can now uphold the values that Ellen Futter and the Barnard faculty fought for in 1980. Today, Barnard represents a wholly different experience for students from Columbia or other co-ed institutions. Sixty-five percent of faculty at Barnard are women, and students at the college have access to opportunities like the Athena Center for Leadership Studies and the Barnard Center for Research on Women. Barnard now represents a distinct and essential place among American colleges.

-Cleo Levin ’14

(With the consultation of Stand, Columbia by Robert A. McCaughey and Changing the Subject: How the Women of Columbia Shaped the Way We Think About Sex and Politics by Rosalind Rosenberg)

 

Barnard College: “a Most Promising and Attractive Child”

People often question the relevance and role of women’s colleges today. Now that most colleges and universities in the U.S. are co-ed, why do women’s colleges still exist? When Columbia College started admitting women in fall of 1982 a merger was proposed, but ultimately decided against because of bureaucratic complexities and the belief that Barnard College served the community well as a separate institution. And so it has.

Flashback to spring 1915, when Barnard administrators were preparing for the 25th anniversary celebration of Barnard College. Originally planned for November 1914, the event was postponed because, according to a write-up of the event from the Dean’s Office, “there was a common feeling that the grave issues before the civilized world did not permit the occasion to be commemorated with sufficient joy and enthusiasm.” Unfortunately, the events in Europe meant Jane Addams, founder of Hull House in Chicago, had to send her regrets that she could not attend. As national chairman of the Women’s Peace Party, she was wanted at a conference in the Netherlands. This letter, typed up on Hull House stationery and signed by Jane Addams, is one of the many treasures held in the Barnard Archives.

Despite its characterization as “war-belated,” the celebration was a wonderful commemoration of Barnard College, what it stood for, and where it was going in the future. While looking through a box of the Dean’s Office Departmental Correspondence from 1914-15, I came across an article titled “Barnard College, 1889-1914” from the June, 1915 issue of the Columbia University Quarterly. In the left-hand margin of the first page someone wrote “President Butler,” indicating Nicholas Murray Butler, president of Columbia University from 1901-1945, as the author, however, it is unclear whether this article is also the address he gave during the 25th anniversary commemorative exercises on April 29th. I expected the article to be a routine address: probably a brief history of the college and an acknowledgement of the trustees and administrators that made it all possible. Instead, it is a beautiful testament to the necessity of higher education for women and therefore the necessity of Barnard College. Butler includes a quote from November 21, 1890 by Rev. Arthur Brooks, Chairman of the Trustees of Barnard College. On that day, the trustees met to go over the events of the first year of the College and Rev. Brooks spoke on behalf of Barnard:

[…]to allow Barnard College to suffer or to languish would now mean the maiming of Columbia College, which, to the pride and glory of New York, is at the present time taking so many forward steps[…].We gladly believe that the bond between the two Colleges is so strong that the parent, old and yet young with new energy, would sadly feel the loss of this, its youngest and most promising and attractive child.

 Characterizing Barnard College as a “most promising and attractive child” might seem a bit silly today, but as a Barnard student who has felt not quite welcome by the Columbia University community, these words are what I have needed to hear for a long time. Butler goes on to write a defense of Barnard College that celebrates its place as a unique institution, but also commends the awe-inspiring backdrop of Columbia University. I must admit the last paragraph of Butler’s piece gave me chills:

Barnard College is nothing so temporary […]. It is a serious and solemn human undertaking which conceives itself as bearing a grave responsibility toward womanhood, toward society, and toward the University whose traditions and unconquerable vitality it shares. […]if it [the College] continue catholic, large-minded, sincere and scholarly, it will increase with each year in power as a builder of character and a shaper of intelligence in that womanhood which is at once the glory and the hope of our civilization.

What a relief to know that these words will be preserved in the Barnard Archives, a humidity-controlled tribute to the rich history of Barnard College. 

-Alice Griffin, BC ’15

Barnard Fraternity Ban of 1913

Ever wondered why you have to slog over to Columbia in your micro-mini and pearls to find a suitable sorority to rush? In 1916, Barnard banned sororities (then called fraternities) for good.  The issue of fraternities was first raised in 1910 due to growing dissent among non-fraternity members who thought that the organizations promoted snobbishness and exclusivity.  At the time, Columbia University was in talks over whether or not to abolish their orders as well.  In 1910, the rush process was restricted to non-first years only.  In 1913, the Faculty Committee on Student Organizations invited four alumnae and four undergraduates to join the board to hear testimonials from both sides of the debate and make a decision about the continued existence of fraternities at Barnard.  After a three year suspension of fraternal activities in 1913, students at Barnard voted by 244 to 30 to abolish fraternities on campus.

During the six year period of debate, students, faculty, and alumni wrote in to both the college paper and alumni magazine to voice their opinions on the matter.  Telegraph wires were ablaze with messages to and from Sorority sisters and alumni attempting to save the place of their beloved sisterhoods.  Some fraternities tried to change the bylaws of their organizations to sidestep complaints–in 1912, Chi Omega re-released a mission statement that put new focus on “sincere scholarship,” keeping girls active in at least two other realms of the college, and having rich members do more service work to “connect with the disadvantaged.”

Those in favor of fraternities held that the organizations helped undergraduates make friends, created a close-knit and welcoming social environment, and allowed younger members to be mentored by alumni.  Those against fraternities claimed that they fostered snobbishness, established race lines, created “artificial barriers against natural intercourse,” caused emotional distress to those not invited to rush, and distracted members from academic achievement.  Among the dissenters was then-Dean Gildersleeve, even though she had been a part of a fraternity during her undergraduate years.

Fraternities had existed at Barnard since the school was first founded.  The Alpha Omicron Pi society was started by two Barnard students, Jessie Wallaces Hughan and Stella George Stern Perry.  Defying the popular notion that girls involved in fraternities were less academically able than their peers, the two went on to become relatively well-known public intellectuals–Hughan ran for a seat in the US Senate and founded the War Resisters League in 1898, and Perry became a well known art historian.

What did Barnard lose and gain by disbanding fraternities?  We did, perhaps, do good in supposedly placing “intellectual pursuits over social polarization” and regaining focus on academia.  (Margaret Mead, popularizer of anthropology and Barnard alumnus, was once turned down during a rush event for membership of Kappa Kappa Gamma at DePauw University for being “too frumpy.”)  But in 1915, Dean Gildersleeve admitted in a New York Times article that the social world dearly missed the fraternities, and that she was scrambling to introduce new social organizations/environments for Barnard girls to flourish in.  I do think we can still feel the effects of the ban today, when we realize that Barnard women wishing to pledge sororities go over to Columbia, and that the social life of these students becomes less centered around Barnard as their time spent across Broadway lengthens.

Written by Johana Godfrey, BC ’13

Five members from the Barnard classes of 1889 and 1890. Virginia C. Gildersleeve is second from the left while still in her fraternity days. Courtesy of Barnard College Archives.

A sketch of the gold pins that members of the Delta Delta Delta Society were required to display on their blouses at all times. Courtesy of the Barnard College Archives.