Feminist Change and the University: A Conversation with Louise Lamphere (Video 1 of 3)

Feminist Change and the University: A Conversation with Louise Lamphere (Video 1 of 3)


Welcome. Welcome to day two to the
Pembroke Center’s events around the Louise Lamphere case,
and our particular contribution to the 250th anniversary
of Brown University I’m Suzanne Stewart-Steinberg,
the Director of the Center. And before I hand the mic
over to Kay Warren, who will introduce Louise
and Amy, I would just like to extend again thanks
to the various groups that made these events possible. The first is the Brown
University’s 250th Anniversary Committee, the Creative Arts
Council, the John Nicholas Brown Center for
Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage, the
Pembroke Center Associates. And here I would especially like
to thank past president Nancy Buc and current
president Jean Howard, who have worked so
hard on these events. And I would also really like
to thank all of those council members who have come here
for these events, come through the cold and
the snow to be here. Thank you very much. Finally, I would
also like to thank, of course, the staff
of the Pembroke Center who have been working
around the clock to make these events possible
and run as smoothly as they have been doing. OK, so Kay– Kay Warren is
Charles Tillinghast Jr. Class of ’32 Professor of
International Studies and Professor of Anthropology
here at Brown University, and she’s going to
introduce our panelists. Thank you. Thank you very much, Suzanne. It gives me great
pleasure to introduce our distinguished guests, Amy
Goldstein and Louise Lamphere. For more than a
quarter of a century, Amy Goldstein,
class of 1979, has been a staff writer for
the Washington Post, where she covers social policy
and wider issues nationally. She most recently has focused
on the 2010 federal law– something we care
about a lot– that is, reshaping the US
health care system. But her reporting has
spanned Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security welfare,
housing, and much more. During the presidency
of George W. Bush, she was a White House
reporter with an emphasis on domestic policy issues. Over the years, she has covered
many notable news events, from the Monica Lewinsky scandal
to the Columbine shootings to the past four Supreme
Court nominations. Goldstein is part of a team
of Washington Post reporters awarded the 2002 Pulitzer
Prize for National Reporting for the
newspaper’s coverage of 9/11 and the government’s
responses to these attacks. She was also a 2009
Pulitzer Prize finalist for National Reportings
for an investigative series that she wrote on medical
treatments of immigrants detained by the
federal government. Goldstein is on
leave from the Post to write a book exploring
the effects of vanished jobs in Janesville, Wisconsin. This is an intimate story
illustrating the decline of the American middle class
through one proud community devastated by the
great recession. Amy holds an AB in American
Civilization, magna cum laude, from Brown. At Harvard. She was a Neiman
Fellow and a fellow at the Radcliffe Institute
for Advanced Study. It’s a wonderful pleasure
to have you here. Many of us are fans of
yours, as you must know. Louise Lamphere–
Louise and I are very old comradee–
is a distinguished professor of anthropology
emerita at the University of New Mexico and past president
of the American Anthropological Association. She was an assistant
professor at Brown University, and the first tenure
track woman faculty member in the joint
sociology/anthropology department, beginning in
1968, and the first woman in the newly
independent anthropology department from 1971 to ’75. After being denied
tenure in 1974, she brought a Title
VII discrimination suit against Brown. That was settled out of
court on September 1977. Under the resulting consent
decree, she was awarded tenure and remained at Brown as
an associate and later as a full professor in 1986. She was an associate
professor of Anthropology at the University of New
Mexico between 1976 and 1979, and returned there
as a full professor, remaining there
until her retirement in 2009 as a distinguished
professor of anthropology. Her dissertation research
on Navajo families was published in To Run after
Them– The Social and Cultural Bases of Cooperation
in a Navajo Community. She began her writing
in feminist anthropology with the publication in 1974
of Woman, Culture, and Society, co-edited with Michelle
Zimbalist Rosaldo. She has studied issues of
women and work for 25 years. In fact, it’s so interesting
now in anthropology to see the whole
issue of work coming full circle and the whole
field focusing on something that Louise had
always talked about. Let’s see– and Women, Culture,
and Society, by the way, was a major work, a major
work in the development of a feminist anthropology,
which she co-edited with Michelle Zimbalist. Rosaldo. She studied women and
worked for 25 years, beginning with her study
of women workers in Central Falls, Rhode Island,
From Working Daughters to Working Mothers, which
was published in 1987. She also co-authored a
study of working women in Albuquerque entitled Sunbelt
Working Mothers– Reconciling Family and Factory,
which came out in 1993, with Patricia Zavella,
Felipe Gonzales, and Peter Evans. She has co-edited with Helena
Ragone and Patricia Zavella a collection of
articles entitled, Situated Lives–
Gender and Culture in Everyday Life,
which came out in 1997. Her most recent book is a
biography of three Navajo women, entitled Weaving
Women’s Lives– Three Generations of a Navajo
Family, came out in 2007. This is a bountiful
list of publications, and you should read them
to get the full dimension of this wonderful work of hers. Professor Lamphere was president
of the American Psychological Society in 1987
to 1989, and Chair of the Association for Feminist
Anthropology from 1995 to ’97. She received the
Conrad Arensberg Award for outstanding contributions
to the anthropology of work, the SANA Prize for the critical
study of North America, and– my favorite award–
the Squeaky Wheel Award, the anthropological
organization’s committee on the status of women. And squeaky wheels
she was in the field. She was relentless. The American
Anthropological Association honored her with presidential
awards in 2008 and 2012 with its Franz Boas Award
for Exemplary Service to Anthropology, which is the
field’s highest honor, in 2013. The Citation recognized
Professor Lamphere as a founding mother of
feminist anthropology, influencing decades of research
in anthropology and related disciplines on issues
of gender inequality and the production of knowledge. In 2008, Professor Lamphere
did the most amazing, generous act– something we will
never forget here at Brown. She gave $1 million to endow
a visiting professorship in gender studies to
be jointly administered by the Department
of Anthropology and the Pembroke Center for
Teaching and Research on Women. That’s how you get even. It will always be taught in
the anthropology department, and we have wonderful, fabulous
searches and new scholars. We pick the very best of
the best to come to Brown. Her gift was a way of ensuring
that the study of women and gender– which she
has helped to launch– will continue in Brown’s
anthropology department forevermore. That is victory. Thank you both. [APPLAUSE] Well, thank you, Kay, for
that really nice introduction. Yes. And thank you all for coming
on a really cold morning. So I must say that working
on this committee that’s put together the exhibit
that’s downstairs has been a really good
reminder that history is seldom one uniform agreed upon story. Each person who’s worked on
this project and each person we’ve interviewed who
was relevant to what happened that you
stirred up carries around his or her own prismatic
view of what happened and why, and what it’s all meant. And just briefly, my own view
is that the winter of 1977, I was a 19-year-old
sophomore here reporting for the
Brown Daily Herald when the top editor asked if I
would be interested in covering the Lamphere case. And I said yes. Now this was a
few years before I knew that I was going to become
a journalist for a living, and it was really the first
beat I’d ever had following a complicated running story. And it taught me a lot
about how to be a reporter, so I thank you for that. Oh, good. And in particular,
this was going to be the first court
trial I had ever seen. So being a dutiful student
as well as a reporter for the Herald, that
spring, before I went home for the summer, I
got reading lists from the professors
for the courses I was going to be
taking the next fall so that I would read
those books in the summer and have time to spend
time down the hill in the federal courthouse. So I came back to school a
few days early that fall, and immediately walked
over to the Herald offices and walked into the
office of the top editor to let him know I was back
and reporting for duty. And he said, the case
has just been settled. And I said, you are kidding. Now you had to know
this editor, because he was a very talented
guy who’s gone on to have a very distinguished
career in journalism himself. But he really prided
himself on being uncouth and extemporaneous. And I said, Peter,
this is a bad joke. I’ve just spent
the summer reading. And he said, no, the case
has really been settled. So that’s a bit of my own view. It illustrates the
point about how we all carry our own sense of
what this was all about. And I’d like to, in addition
to this conversation we’re about to have, really
encourage all of you after today to go on to the
Pembroke Center’s website and read all the oral histories
that the committee of us who worked on this
project conducted, because you’ll see each
person we interviewed has a very distinctive view. And in particular, it’s why
I’m thrilled that you’re here to tell your own story today. So I thought we should start
with a little bit about where you come from. As we’ve gotten to know each
other– both as grown-ups this time– while
working on this project, I’ve been struck that
you come from a pretty unlikely background to have
grown up to be a feminist. Let me just interject
something about Amy’s story. Yesterday, somebody
said, how was it possible that she wrote
so many articles on the case during the fall of 1977? I said, well, she’d read all the
things for the courses already. So she put out– a lot of you
will see them downstairs– in the articles that she wrote. Getting back to my family, I
come from a Republican family in Colorado. A long line of people who have
been in Colorado on my mother’s side, and my grandfather was
treasurer of the Colorado Republican Party. And one of the
things he got to do is to go to the
Eisenhower inauguration and be part of the
Colorado delegation. So I have a lovely
picture of that. So that’s my family background. I consider myself a
westerner, somebody who grew up in the Colorado
mountains and in Denver. And you came to Brown in 1968. It was a year before the new
curriculum would be adopted. And I’m just
wondering if you can recall for us just
what the climate was like on campus at the time, and
what you started out teaching. Of course, I heard about the
new curriculum right away, and I was president of
[? ’09 ?] in the spring. And I also ended up
on Ira [INAUDIBLE] honors committee
because he was working with George Morgan
in human thought, and I started doing [INAUDIBLE]
when I worked there. But my specialty was really
kind of kinship politics, so that’s the kind of courses
I taught at the beginning, partly because my
dissertation on the Navajo had been about Navajo
kinship and they’re everyday life and co-operation. I was also trained by
British anthropologists, and that’s the sort
of thing they did. We can’t hear. [INTERPOSING VOICES] OK. There we go. Yes. Thank you. And if my voice goes, ask me
to whisper into it louder. OK, so you came in the
middle of the Vietnam War. So you got involved in some
of the anti-war activism. I’m wondering if you
could talk about that and how it kind of seeped
into some feminism activism. Yeah, I think the key
thing that happened was the student strike in 1970
where the whole campus was kind of involved in the strike
and things were going– nothing was happening but
strike activities. And it was about the same
time that Pembroke was sort of absorbed into Brown. And the students ran the
graduation that year. And during this
summer, we kind of kept going with the
strike in the sense that we had dinners over
at the Episcopalian Church over on George Street. And sort of out of that and
participating in something called the New
University Conference, which was an anti-war
organization that had a relatively national stretch. I was in a
consciousness-raising group, and actually I met
somebody yesterday who was on the same
consciousness-raising group as I was. And that was sort
of the beginning of the women’s movement
among the faculty and a lot of the
graduate students. And we started
reading feminist work, and then beginning to bring
feminists and interest in gender into our own classes. Can you talk about some
of the first course work that you did that was
really about women? Well, about the same time, I was
involved with Michelle Rosaldo in trying to put this collection
Women, Culture, and Society together. It really started
with a Stanford class that Shelley and Jane Collier
and– they were faculty wives– and a group of graduate
students put together. And when I heard them give
a presentation at the 1971 American Anthropological
Association, I said to Shelley– whom I’d
known in graduate school– I think we have a book here. Is this better? Yes. Yeah. No? Yes? Is that better? Yes. There we go. All right. So anyway, the first time
I taught a course on women here was in the spring of
1973, and I used chapters from the book as
part of the reading. At the time, there
was relatively little reading on women
and other cultures. Margaret Mead was the
main example, but after that there wasn’t a whole lot. And so the articles in that
book were part of a reading. And then I participated in
a group independent study that Anne Fausto and
Mary Jo [? Puel ?] and a number of graduate
students put together. And the syllabus for that
is downstairs on the wall. It was a very
experimental course. We taught it to about
70 or 80 students. And it was extra, so
after that we were all kind of exhausted
teaching our regular two courses and that one. But it was one of the first
interdisciplinary gender courses on campus. Now as that wonderful photo
downstairs demonstrates, you were the only woman in
the anthropology department once it broke off
from sociology. I was the only woman in
the sociology department when I first got there too. Well, that was before that. Right. So how did you get along with
the guys in the department? Well, we actually had
very collegial department. The department was put
together relatively quickly. Three new people came in ’67,
and three of us came in ’68. And we all kind of
hung out together. Karl Heider, who’s the
last person sitting down in the picture, had
been at Harvard, and he knew who I was and
he called me up and said there was a job here. And so I applied for
it, and I got it. And they had just hired
George Hicks the year before and his wife [? Lenay ?], and
he became my best friends. And [? Neils ?] [? Sparrow ?]
was a close friend of his, and they’d hired him. And so he and his wife
[? Eva ?] became friends. And Phil Leis was also
part of that circle. He became the chair of
anthropology when we split off. And we hung out together, sort
of drinking buddies together. It was all very collegial
until I became a feminist and started– [LAUGHTER] So let me just stop
you on that point. So once you did
this thing of sort of sliding towards
feminism, how could you tell the collegiality
was waning? Well, in some ways I couldn’t. I mean, I wasn’t hanging
out with him so much. There were people involved in
the– other faculty involved in the anti-war movement,
in the feminist movement. There were graduate students in
sociology that I hung out with. But I didn’t think there was
really anything different in terms of my relationship
to the department until the year I was supposed
to come up for tenure. So let me stop you and
ask you about that. So that was 1973-74. And you’d been around campus
for– this was your sixth year? Is that right? If you’d come in ’68? Yeah, right. And coming up for
tenure is never like a slam dunk think
that’s going to happen. So what were your feelings
about what your prospects were as that year was starting? I mean, what was on
your mind as you recall? I sort of thought it was
going to be a slam dunk. George had just gotten
tenure the year before and he had fewer
publications than I did. And there was a financial
crisis and there was at the time the beginning of a
staffing plan, which Jacqueline Mattfeld– who was
the academic vice president– had put together. But our department
head two slots, and I thought, well,
Hillsborough was coming up for tenure, I was
coming up for tenure. And I thought I had a
really pretty good chance by that time. Women, Culture, and Society
was coming out in April. My Navajo book was being
copyedited and going to come out within a year. I had articles in all
the major journals in American anthropology,
and so I thought I had a really strong record. But when Phil came to ask me
to come into his office in, like, probably about
November of ’73, I learned that there
were serious questions about my teaching. First I’d heard of it. I mean, this was a university
that had no teaching evaluations, so whatever
evaluations they were were evaluations by rumor. People heard from
the graduate students how they thought I
was doing, but they didn’t hear from students
in the class particularly. So anyway, I was back
from that meeting. I was pretty nervous and was
kind of worried about how I was going to do. And the other problem
was there wasn’t really a schedule of events. There wasn’t the
idea that you got your dossier ready
by November and what you’re supposed to put in it. There wasn’t a sense
that the department would meet at X date. There wasn’t even an idea about
if the graduate students were going to be asked to
write letters, when. So I started getting
graduate students to write letters anyway. Some of my graduate students
are in the audience here who wrote letters. And so I was pretty
nervous, especially because I didn’t know when
anything was going to happen. So the whole process in
those days was pretty hazy. Yes. It was informal. [LAUGHTER] And the date that you found
out that you were being denied tenure was– not that I
remember this from back then, but I did look it
up– May 24, 1974. Yes. And what do you remember
about finding that out? Well, I’d been asking
Phil Leis, the chair, when am I going to know? And I think he did call
[? Neils ?] [? Sparrow ?] in a couple days before me to
tell him that he wasn’t getting tenure. But finally he asked me to
come in and talk to him. And May 24 is a week
before graduation, so it isn’t exactly early. And he told me that– the
department was evenly divided was the way that he put it. There were some questions
about my teaching. It was poor, but not so
much worse than others. And my work– particularly
my work on women– was theoretically weak, and
those were the main reasons. So I was completely stunned. And I thought, I worked
all this time on my career. I think it’s a good career. I’m beginning to get
a national reputation. What I’m going to do? And I was sort of pretty shaken. I think most guys would
have just gotten angry and walked out and said, OK. But I also thought,
in my sort of feelings there were there was this notion
of, well, maybe he’s right. Maybe my teaching is poor, but
not so much worse than others. So let me interrupt
you for just a second. So we did all these oral
histories, and one of them was with your department
chair at the time, Phil Leis. And just to play
devil’s advocate, he has very much his
own take to this day on why you were denied tenure. And his point of view matches
one thing that you said, which is that the university
was in a financial crisis, and he had lost a fight
with then then-president of the university, Donald
Hornig about the staffing, that he wanted to have
this young anthropology department grow. So that there were only
two tenure slots not just that year, but
throughout the 1970s. And his understanding–
I’m not saying he’s right or wrong– but his
understanding was that because of this clamp down on his
ability to grow the department, tenure suddenly became a
much more precious thing, and the bar had to be raised
for who warranted tenure. Well, they might have told
me the bar was being raised. OK. Fair enough. And that it wasn’t
so much the field of work that you are
gravitating to at the time, but that he just didn’t
think your teaching or your scholarship– I mean,
he and some colleagues– were good enough given this
new heightened standard. So you’ve already given
one answer to that. Is there anything else you want
to say about his [INAUDIBLE]? He did think that the article
I wrote for Women, Culture, and Society was atrocious. And in the
decision-making process, you had to realize
that there were six of those guys in the picture
down there that were tenure, and three of them were on leave. So Jim Deetz, the real
tall guy, he never participated in any of it. George Hicks was in the
Azores and had wrote a letter, and Dwight Heath was gone
just from January on, and he had written a letter. So the people who
were in the group were Bob [? Jay ?],
Doug Anderson– who’s the blond guy with
the beard over on the right side– and Phil. And apparently, they
had a very long meeting. And I learned later that
Bob was kind of on my side and Doug was kind
of in the middle. And the way Phil
put it was he had Dwight B. in the
middle, too, and George on the negative side
because of George’s letter, and that left him to kind
of cast the negative vote. They didn’t actually
have a vote. There’s no piece of paper that
said, I vote against Louise and I vote for. But that was the
way he construed it, and that’s what he more or
less wrote in the letter to the provost. So you began to run around,
trying to find some way to complain about this? Yes. And this, as you’ve
told me before, culminated on graduation day
at the department’s graduation party. So what happened that day? Well, I couldn’t get
a hold of anybody. Nobody would return my calls. I called Hornig. I tried Stoltz. I almost got an
appointment with Stoltz, but he kept putting me off– With the provost at the time? Right, yes. And Jacqueline Mattfeld, who
was the academic vice president. I got a chance to walk
with her to her house where she was having
lunch with alumni about the day before graduation. And she basically said
my hands are tied, I don’t really know anything. I can’t do anything. But anyway, I was pretty
stumped about what to do. So I saw Phil after
the graduation. It was a gorgeous,
sunny day, and we had this new department
down on Hope Street and had a lovely lawn. And we had this outside
the department graduation. And Jane Dwyer, who was
the second woman who was hired in the department,
had made this lovely wine punch with strawberries in it. And so we were hanging
around with our robes and talking to
parents and so forth. And I said, Phil, I’d like
to see you in your office. And so we went into his office. He had this gorgeous office
in the front of the building. And I said, well, Phil, I
tried to get a hold of people. I’m just getting no
place, so I hired a lawyer and I intend to sue. Now Phil’s version of this
was Louise was very pleasant and she kissed me
goodbye because she was going off to after
Brazil to see Peter Evans. She said she hired a lawyer,
and I wished her luck, he said. So he wished me luck,
I got the lawyer. So there’s agreement that
the word “lawyer” came up in the conversation? Oh, yes. Now you were a pretty
young faculty member. Waging a lawsuit takes
a lot of resources. So how did you get
things together to be able to pursue
this avenue of complaint? Well, first of all, it turns
out that if you have a Title VII discrimination suit,
the lawyers will take it on when they call contingency. They hope to win
the case and then get the lawyers’ fees
after that, which you can do in a discrimination suit. My first stroke of
luck was that I got Milton Stanzler as my lawyer. I sort of got bounced
around the firm. And finally in September,
Milton called me up and said he’d take the case. And he had been the
lawyer for the union at University of Rhode
Island, so he knew something about tenure and
he knew something about how universities work. And then Jordan
Stanzler, his nephew, came back from California
and joined the firm, and it was really Jordan that
spent most of the time working on the case. He was paid about
as much as I was, and he was– that was the sort
of new thing he was doing. So we began to have
a team of people– Sue Benson, who was
one of my housemates, myself– working
with Jordan on trying to get answers to
interrogatories and stuff like that. So the finances were not so bad. You had to pay for what
they call depositions, which you get
during the discovery process and some other things. But basically, we were
doing this on a shoestring. You also eventually
had friends helping you raise money and
some national women’s organizations that were putting
some resources into your fight? Well, I did try to find a
national organization that would be willing to
help me raise money. And I finally found the Women’s
Equity Action League, sent out a big letter to people. And of course, the
university got upset that I was going to use the
university mail to send out fundraising, so that was
a big [? faux pas. ?] But it turns out when you look
at who donated to the case– and it wasn’t a lot of money. $100 here, $100 there–
were my friends. People on the
faculty supported me. So one of the things you
learn in this kind of thing is you need a support network,
and it’s really your friends that’ll stick up for you. So we managed on a shoestring
partly because the lawyers figured that when we
settled, they were able to get the lawyers’ fees. So before you got
into federal court, you had to go
through some channels first to prove you had exhausted
all the other ways of getting this resolved? And can you talk about the
one that happened on campus? Yes. The faculty policy group,
which was the governing body of the committee, that
was sort of the governing body of the faculty,
had just put in place a grievance procedure,
which nobody had used yet. So I was the first
person to use it. I went to Bruce Donovan, who
was chair of the faculty policy group, in early
September, October, sort of after I got Stanzler
as my lawyer, and said to him I wanted to pursue
this grievance process. Because my advice
from Stanzler was you need to exhaust
everything there is before we can get a right
to sue letter from the EEOC, that you can sue
in federal court. And he suggested we
could go to the state– That was the federal government? An agency with the
federal government? Yes. Equal Opportunity Commission. Equal Employment Opportunity. Yeah. Right. Thanks. So I went to Donovan, and
the faculty policy group decided that they
would take the case. I presented some charges. It turns out, though,
that a grievance procedure was supposed to be limited
only to procedural issues. They were not supposed to
look at anything in terms of the content of my case. So I had some very important
procedural issues– one, that they took a long time
to do the decision, another that only three people
were there for the decision and that there was a
whole delay in the thing. And then I snuck
in at the bottom that I felt I had been
discriminated against because of my work on women. And the FET had hearings
in January of ’76, and they were in the university,
up at University Hall. And they had lawyers,
we had lawyers, and we did these hearings. And then they came
up with a report, and they found
about half and half on these procedural
issues in my case, but they decided there
wasn’t any discrimination, partly because they
couldn’t look at it. And they recommended
that my case be reheard by the administrative
body above the department, which was the administrative–
ACAB the committee on academic something. But it was made up of basically
the president, the vice president for academic affairs,
provost, the financial officer. And so it was basically
all administrators. And the report went
to the corporation. The corporation accepted the
report but not the findings. So they basically said, OK,
you had a grievance procedure, fine. But we’re not paying
any attention to it. But the administration decided
they would re– at least listen to the case, but they didn’t let
me bring any new evidence in. They saw themselves as only
a kind of review panel. So I went before them. I presented some new evidence
anyway, but they ignored it. And then Phil talked to
them– Phil Leis, my chair– and then they basically
decided that the department had autonomy, they made
a judicious decision, and that was that. So that was by about May
1978, but after was probably June of ’75. But in the meantime,
we had started the suit in federal court
in May, early May. Now you said that the
judge hearing the case, Raymond Pettine, was really
significant in how things went. What difference did it
make who the judge was? Well, the judge made a
huge difference in my case. Pettine was a guy
from Rhode Island. I think he went to
Providence College. He did live on Angell
Street, and it’s a lovely bed and breakfast
where Peter and I are staying. Annie Bronell, the hostess at
the bed and breakfast, I think is here in the audience. So anyway, Pettine, I think,
had good experience with class actions, which is what we filed
in May, partly because there was a big prison case
here a couple years before that he had abjudicated. And I think out of
that experience, he’d become very sympathetic
to the plaintiffs and the plaintiff’s rights. And he stopped with the
law, but a lot of the things that happened in the first two
years, he decided in our favor. For example, we wanted
information from the university because it’s the
plaintiff’s right to get the evidence you need
to prove discrimination. So we asked interrogatories,
which are questions, like how many women
are on the faculty. At the beginning, the
university wouldn’t say. They’d say, we are destroying
people’s privacy rights if we tell you these things. So we were getting stalled
on the interrogatories. Then we asked them
for documents, and people were very unhappy
about giving up any documents because it would infringe on
the faculty rights of the people who had written the documents. And finally, he came
out and said, look, the plaintiffs have a
right to these documents. Produce them. So that’s the kind
of judge he was. And some of those documents
proved kind of important, right? Right. Yes. Jordan, at one point, decided
to put in an interrogatory that faculty– and I think this was
after the consent decree was actually ratified– needed to
come up with any notes, tapes, letters, diaries that had
anything to do with my case but also the other
three women that joined the case after the
class action was certified. So that allowed us
to get correspondence between Phil Leis
and George Hicks, because George Hicks was in the
Azores and Phil Leis was here. Doing field work as
an anthropologist. Yeah. Right, he was doing field work. And so there was a long series
of letters back and forth that go back from the minute
that he went to the Azores. But it also got letters
written in the year that Phil was away in England
or something like that. So getting the correspondence
was pretty much a surprise to us, because
this was in August of ’76, and the class action had
been certified in July. And that meant that
other women could join me in the case who were
part of the class, and the class involved all
the women who were at Brown, women who had applied
for jobs at Brown, and women who might have
applied for jobs at Brown. And so three women
came forward– Pat Russian, who was in
the German department, whose position took a big cut. She was an instructor. Claude Carey, who was in
the Slavic department, who’d been demoted from assistant
professor to lecturer. And Helen Cserr, who was
in the biomedical program and who had been denied tenure. So there were four of us in the
end that were part of the case. And do you remember finding
the good stuff in the letters? Oh yes. Thank you. Well, a deposition is what
happens in a lawyer’s office, but you’re under oath, you’re
being deposed by the other side usually, and the lawyer
asks the questions and you have to, of
course, answer them. So it’s a pretty
nerve-racking experience. I went through it
myself, but we had Phil in the hot seat that day. And he had brought with
him the letters that he had gotten from George Hicks. And my friend, Sue
Benson, was there with me. And so we got to look at
these letters over lunch. So we were put in this
little room and a gal who was the secretary for the law
firm, sitting in the corner, watching us, so we
couldn’t actually have much of a conversation
about what we were seeing. She was reading
and I was reading, and I would sort of
say, did you see this? But I had to whisper it. It’s like, hey, what about this? And so we were
sort of going, uh, over all these letters and, of
course, couldn’t say very much. But we knew we had a kind of
treasure trove of opinions from George. And so we knew there
was also another side. There were Phil’s letters that
George had, so we got them. But the thing is, when we got
these letters, a bunch of them were whited out. There were these paragraphs
that were sort of taped over with white tape and a
little checkmark on them. And we asked them why they
whited out some of the letters, and they said, well,
they’re either irrelevant or potentially libelous. And we thought, oh, we’d like to
know about the libelous parts. [LAUGHTER] So they didn’t want to
give up the libelous parts, so we went to court on that one. At that point, they decided
to cite the department for contempt because
the university was not being very forthcoming
about all these documents. And so we really felt we
needed the judge to sort of say they have to
hand over stuff. So we did have a hearing
in court, but in the end, people started to
give up the documents. And we did get the letters
with the parts blocked out. I mean, it is
true, though, a lot of stuff that got blocked
out was not about me but was about somebody
and was essentially irrelevant to the
case, but there’s a lot of good more
gossip, I guess. Yeah. And there’s a lot
of urban mythology that’s grown up
around those letters. Oh yes. Just having this
urban mythology, just this last summer, because I
hadn’t realized that there were supposed to be things
in there about my body, about my tits and my ass
or something like that. And I was completely
astounded because I had never seen anything like that
in the letters or– nobody had ever said anything
to me about my body. These guys who had always
been my best friends, and they’d been
pretty nice to me, and then continued to be nice
in a sense of treating me like an adult person. But I don’t when–
Nancy [? Buckman ?] took these letters, she found
a [INAUDIBLE] downstairs, it’s about the graduate
students’ bodies. There was something in there. But this sort of urban
myth went around. Because last summer,
I was talking to people in different
parts of the country, and everybody had heard this
story that there were really nasty things said about my
body and other women’s bodies in these letters, which
is not what I thought was in the letters. What I saw in the letters,
it’s the kind of thing you’ll see in the
exhibit downstream, that there was
really collusion– and what I thought was
pretty improper collusion– between George
Hicks and Phil Leis. George wrote the scathing
letter about my presentation in his class, and was kind
of astounded, for example, that I brought up at the
end of a lecture for about five minutes the notion that we
were protesting the university club’s exclusion of
women both for membership and you can’t sit there
for lunch, either. And there was very little
there about my publications. So Phil wrote back
and said, listen, if you really are serious about
Louise not getting tenure, you should write something
about her publications. I’ll just clip out
those last two lines and add to the next page,
which is what happened. And then George also put a lot
of pressure on at least one of his graduate students to
write a negative letter for me, partly because I’d
been getting people to write positive
letters, and he felt they needed something in there. So that was the kind of damning
stuff that was in the letter. That’s the kind
of stuff I thought that was damning, that
you could certainly bring in a trial to the notion
that these people were not making objective, judicious,
careful decisions, that there was a lot a bias against
certainly the work I was doing about women. At that point, you were
still thinking that there was going to be a trial. Like, I had been
thinking there was going to be a trial when
I was a student here. So Howard Swearer
came, and what changed? It made a huge difference
when Swearer came because– This was in January of 1977,
he became the new president. Right. Because Merton Stoltz had sort
of been the interim president after Hornig left. And since Morton Stoltz
was a defendant– Phil Leis was a
defendant, Hornig was a defendant–
when you’ve got people that are
in that position, they don’t want to give up. But if someone new
comes on the scene, then you’ve got the opportunity
for a new fresh pair of eyes and somebody who doesn’t have
any interest in it in the sense that it wasn’t part
of their situation. And Howard, I think,
came as this guy who wanted to raise
money for Brown. He wanted to do new things,
and this case was just a drag, and it was also costing them
a lot of money, comparatively. I mean, it was
something like $400,000, but that was a lot of
money in those days. And especially
because by that time, they also had gotten a
new law firm from Boston, so there were two
law firms involved. And so the legal fees, I
think, were running up. And it was costing them
a fair amount of time to find the documents,
Xerox them, give them to us. So they were beginning to
even amortize the expenses. And so I’m not sure
exactly how it happened, but Howard was willing to
have a conversation with us without the lawyers. So it was just Howard
Swearer and George Borts, who was a professor
in economics, and then the four
of us plaintiffs who came in and
set down with him. He explained that he was
really interested in settling the case. And that was the beginning
of being able to settle. OK. So then the settlement happened. And– Let me do the first
meeting of the assembly. Because when we started having
meetings about the settlement, the faculty wanted to be
involved because they’d gotten their own lawyer,
in fact, because they’d been worried about their
letters of recommendation and so forth being seen by
a whole bunch of people. So the FGB appointed a committee
that Arlene Gorton was head of, and she had been head
of the committee that did the preliminary grievance
procedure I went through. And she’s been a terrific,
important person in this case, as well. She was the athletic
director in the Pembroke days and was the few
women with tenure when the merger had happened. So she had a lot of standing
[INAUDIBLE] as a woman. Yes. Right. And she’s also a really
good-hearted person who wanted to be fair. And it’s really sort
of a tragedy she never got to be athletic director
of the whole university. She turned out to be a
tremendous, important person in my case. So she was on this
committee of faculty. And so they met with
us to begin with. To begin with, we had this
kind of secret meeting down in the women’s field
house in the third floor, and it was quite a
cast of characters. They had six lawyers,
we had our two lawyers. There was four of us, then
there was the faculty committee. So it was this whole
room full of people. And of course, we started
out like they were over here, we were over there. But eventually, we got to
something we agreed to. The plaintiffs– that’s
Jordan and Milton and us– drafted a consent decree,
and they took a look at it and didn’t like a lot of it. So we worked on pieces of it. And Milton said at some point,
well, if there’s a will, there’s a way. And Peter Evans did the work
on the goals and timetables. And eventually– Which was for hiring and
promoting and tenuring women. I mean, I can say what’s in the
consent decree, if you want. We’re kind of running
short on time, so why don’t you just do like
a teeny synopsis on the consent decree. Well, the thing about the
consent decree– and you can read it downstairs–
is that it did have a lot of good procedures in it. So finally, we had
some procedures, which actually
the university had tried to put in place
before all of this happened. So that’s what they were
willing to agree with and started to have
teaching evaluations, departments had to
come up with criteria, there had to be clear things
in a person’s dossier, and there had to sort
of be a timetable. So we got all of that
into the consent decree. And we got these
goals and timetables, and what those were was a plan
for how many women would get hired and how many
women would get tenure over a 10-year period. So we came up the
slogan, 57 women by ’87– that was 10 years
later– would be tenured, and there would be
100 women faculty. So the university
was willing to go with the goals and timetables,
and with all the rest of it. Plus, we set up an affirmative
action monitoring committee, which you’ll hear about later. But they were basically there. Two people chosen
by the plaintiffs, two chosen by the faculty,
and the fifth person was chosen by the
four other people. They reviewed every hiring,
every tenure decision, every renewal decision,
every promotion decision for the length of time that
the consent decree lasted. Now at the very beginning
of the consent decree, it says that Brown did not
discriminate against you. Given what you got, did
it matter that they never admitted discrimination? Well, it turns out that any
consent decree does that. You always give up the
discrimination issue or the [INAUDIBLE]
were wrong somehow. But you give that up in order to
get the stuff you need to have. And so– And that was OK with you? In the end, who cared? We’d been working on this
thing for two and a half years. And what we really
wanted was we wanted our jobs back– the
three of us that got tenure– and Pat
Russia got a settlement. And we wanted the
university changed. We wanted to have
real procedures. And of course across the
country at this time, people were starting
to put in procedures. It was partly because there were
a lot of these Title VII cases, but this one was one of the
ones that had a positive ending. Lots of women who
sued didn’t get anything but a cash settlement,
or they didn’t get any place. But this was one of the
most successful Title VII suits in the country. I’ve got just a
couple more questions, then maybe we can sneak in some
questions from the audience. Yeah, we got to quit here. So just a couple more things. As you just said, you
got your job back. You had been at the
University of New Mexico. You had come back here
for several years. And what was it like for you to
be working with the people who had rejected you for tenure? Pretty tough. [LAUGHTER] But the time I came
back, George Hicks, who had written the most negative
letter– was the chair, and so I didn’t talk
to him very much. I really wasn’t on
speaking terms with him. Which makes it kind of hard,
because if you want anything like travel money to go to
the anthropology meetings or something like that, you do
have to talk to the chairman. And the tenured faculty– Bob
Jay was perfectly friendly, but the other folks were
a little standoffish. But I came back. I started teaching
courses on gender. I was starting to get
good graduate students. Mary Moran’s here, who was one
of my first graduate students in that period. And so the students and
the new faculty– people that had come since then–
were perfectly friendly. But I also began to feel
that because of the case and because of the way in which
a number of faculty and Howard began to feel about it
the case that I’d never did to have an
administrative position here. I would never end up being
head of the Pembroke Institute, for example, or chair
of the department. And I felt kind of stuck because
I had this kind of legacy. There were some
mixed feelings, which I’m sure you’ll all hear
about in the next panel. And New Mexico had always
been a welcoming place to me and it’s back near my
hometown of Denver, and I’d done field
work in New Mexico. And it was very attractive
to be able to go back here, which when a position came
up, I applied for and decided to leave Brown. So just two more things. This is not so much about you,
but about that word “legacy” that’s part of this exhibit. So when you look at either
this campus, of universities in general, having gone
through the experience that you did as a
young faculty remember, what are the remaining
issues that you see that need to be
solved for women? Well, I still think there
needs to be more women faculty. Somebody said to me after
looking at those statistics yesterday, well,
why isn’t that women are like 30% when the
number of students that are women in most universities–
including Brown– is about 55%? And I think it’s
still hard for women to get into top
administrative positions. There have been some really
good presidents that are women, and there need to be more. So finally, I’ve heard
you talk about one of the lessons of the feminist
movement back in the day being that the personal and
political are interwoven. And I was just
wondering if you can– Yeah, let me say a little
something about that, because that is
something we really learned in the early ’70s in our
consciousness-raising groups. And I think the
most important thing to do is to try to
change the institutions, because if you can’t
change institutions, you really don’t have
much social change. And so what’s important
about this case is I helped change
an institution. And so Brown is a very different
place than it was 40 years ago. There are more women here. There are more courses on women. There’s more atmosphere
about diversity. And so changing an institution
is really what it’s about. And sometimes it’s changing
laws and regulations, and sometimes it’s doing other
things to change institutions. So the personal is
political for me is something that’s
incredibly important not just in universities,
but throughout society, that if you really
want to do something, you’ve got to work at changing
an institution because that will have a legacy, that will
continue on in the future, that will make life different
for the next generation. And that’s really what
we wanted, or about. Terrific. So I suspect I’m not the only
one who’s got some questions. Does anybody want
to ask something? [INAUDIBLE] probably
just monitor [INAUDIBLE]. So yes, we will open up
the floor for questions. There will be microphones
floating around [INAUDIBLE] please? [INAUDIBLE] Hi, Louise. Hi, Mark. I’d just like to– Put the mic closer to you. I’m sorry. What do I need to do on this? I’m not– Close your [INAUDIBLE]. Is that doing it? That’s it. OK. I’m Mark Handler. I was an undergraduate
who from 1969 and then a graduate student in
the anthropology department. I TA’ed for Louise’s
first women’s course. And we haven’t seen each
other in a very large time, so it’s very nice to see you. And just so that what I’m about
to say won’t be misunderstood, there’s never been any
difference between us on the politics of all of this. There’s a difference between our
understanding of what happened in the anthropology department. Yeah. [INAUDIBLE]. But I’d just like to– because
of one thing that you cited in and talking about the
smoking guns in the letters, it’s a misunderstanding
and I’d like to just offer a personal viewpoint on it. I’m the graduate
student that was the recipient of George’s
letter, the one that there’s a quote about pressuring. George didn’t pressure me. He did use the word [INAUDIBLE]. I would actually prefer that the
entire text of letter appear. I don’t believe it
belongs on the wall with the offensive
remarks quoted from Phil. You talked about encouraging
graduate students to submit letters on your behalf. What’s missing there,
as I was carrying out field work in the Azores
at the same time as George, I lived with George
for a period of time, and then was on a
neighboring island. So you see the letter that
comes at a certain point in what had been a long
conversation, both of us wrestling with sorting
out the demands of friendship. We were close to you
and I felt even closer to [? Neils ?], and
George, of course, had been in graduate school. We talked about the
financial constraints and where the
department should go. So I hope we have the
chance to talk so that– Yeah, we should talk some more. –they find out
that this is kind of an urban myth,
too– unintentionally– a misreading of that document. And could I just now– the
[? personal ?] parts– could I ask a question? Because I know we wrestled
with the personal aspect and the institutional
needs in trying to sort out personal loyalty and
our obligations to our friends from our notions of
obligations to the university and to the discipline. In your own– as
I understand it, part of the whole notion behind
the reform that was imposed was to try to get
personalism and who knew who in the old boys’
network out of the process and putting in pretty
bureaucratic procedures. But there’s a sense
that I picked up from your squeaky wheel article
that you thought it was wrong, that you thought it was wrong
on the part of your friends not to stand by you
for the friendship. And I just wondered– Try that again. George and I wrestling with we
thought the institutional needs had to be– Well, I think one
of the problems had to do with–
I mean, everybody knew there was this
financial crisis, OK? But then people knew
there was a staffing plan. But it was not
clear to anybody who was a tenured person
that the bar had been raised, for example. And the staffing plan was
kind of murky in the sense that there wasn’t a
clear presentation. Like for example, this
business about two slots– I didn’t figure out
until pretty recently that one slot was for the first
five years and the second one was for the second five years. And I certainly
didn’t know that Phil had tried to get [INAUDIBLE]. So it had a lot to do with
the kind of culture of secrecy around salaries, around
administrative decisions at a private university. So if the bar is being raised,
you have to tell people. And one of the things
the consent decree gave– the first thing there
is that every department has to have criteria. If you’re going
to say people have to be the most excellent
person in the country– that’s sort of the Harvard
standard– then you’d really got to say that and you
have to say how you know that. Well, you know that because
five letters [INAUDIBLE] most excellent person
in the country. Or you see it because
they’ve already published six books or something. But if you don’t have that stuff
written down and forthrightly told to everybody
who’s in [INAUDIBLE], it just isn’t fair. And I think I do
see that students have different relationships
with different faculty and are very close
to several of them. And I think a lot
of you guys were put under pressure, some from
me and some from my colleagues. But I think if there had been
a more clear way in which the students’ opinions were
solicited– like you send out a letter to all the
graduate students not on April 15 due May 1,
but at the very beginning. At New Mexico– could you
get me some more water? Yes, absolutely. Here’s some more, Louise. Thanks. We have a student on the
tenure committee in each case, and what their job is is to get
the student letters and stuff together. So it’s those kind of reforms. One of the other things
that the consent decree did was to have a kind of tenure
committee in each department, if the department
was large enough, so that three people
would be there getting information, going through it,
giving a report to the faculty, and kind of making
sure that everything was there, et cetera. And when you have that kind
of system put in place, then people’s loyalties
don’t get in the way so much because
the students know they’re supposed to get a
letter in by November 1. It’s put out on email. And it takes that kind
of personal pressure out of the thing, I think. Here’s the microphone. OK. Hi. I’m Peter Allen. I was a grad student at Brown
in the anthropology department from 1966 to ’72,
and George Hicks was my dissertation adviser. Louise [INAUDIBLE] my committee. [INTERPOSING VOICES] –has hit the fan. But I was in town because I
got a job right out of college. So when the lawsuit was filed,
Louise approached me and said, I’d appreciate it,
if it goes to trial, if you’d testify on my behalf. And I kind of weaseled
and said, well, we’ll see. And then George Hicks came to me
and said, if it comes to trial, we expect you to be on our side. So I was very, very thankful
that it did not go to trial. I would have been like somebody
on the stretching machine. But I was appalled
by the decision not to give tenure
to Louise in part because they’ve stressed
the teaching so much. And when I want to Rhode
Island college in 1972, we had teacher evaluations,
we had peer reviews. And it was kind of Mickey
Mouse, in my opinion. But when the lawsuit took
place, and I realized there’d been no
procedure whatsoever in place for evaluating Louise’s
teaching, it was all hearsay. And as we saw, George was
soliciting letters and– I was soliciting letters. You were soliciting letters. And there was
absolutely no record whatsoever other than what
people had in their minds. And of course,
anybody who’s taught knows that whenever you
give teaching evaluations, you get a little
range of things. Some people like your
teaching style, some don’t. But in any case, there
was absolutely nothing to go on, so they had
a very, very weak case. Anyway, I’m glad we’re
having this whole conference. I’m glad we have the exhibition. I think that it’s a
wonderful airing of all these historical events, and I
look forward to the next event. Thank you. Yes? Hi. I’m Peggy [? Muer ?], and
I was Louise’s student. [LAUGHTER] I was sent out to plug the
holes in the anthropology data. I literally went out to
the Canadian Maritimes to a fishing community
because the monographs had all been about men
getting their boats and how you divided
up the fishing areas. And then there would be
this little paragraph in the monographs that
said, and the women do all the child
care, putting out crafts, housework, et cetera. So part of what Louise
did was to send us out too deal with et cetera,
to deal with women’s work. And while it hasn’t come up
at this conference so far, Louise, is how not
only you changed the discipline of anthropology,
but more so how feminism has changed economics,
political science, and– I would say–
biology and physics, too. That this place is not just
because of the criticisms leveled at Louise
she did on women, that it isn’t just about
getting women on the faculty or getting a class in
anthropology of women. It’s much more about
how academia as a whole has integrated feminism into
the way we study the world and understand the world. So Louise, I wonder if
you could just comment on what you’ve seen about that. Yeah. Because– [APPLAUSE] I’ve thought a lot about this
and written about it, too. And it’s not just feminism. Anthropology changed
a lot, but feminists were in there trying
to make these changes. And the difference is
between– when I first did my field work going
to Navajo, like everybody else in the field, you kind
of wrote these objectivist ethnographies. And I’m not using “objectivist”
in a pejorative way. What I’m saying is that we wrote
in this distance kind of way. Like we were sitting
on the beam there, looking down at everybody
and what they were doing. We were not in the text. And anthropology has
really changed about how people do ethnographies now. The author, the
anthropologist is in the text. They say, I’m in this and I
asked this kind of question. This is what responded or
this is how people saw us when I first got there. But the other thing has to
do with the voices of people who you’re studying. It used to be you would
describe what we’re doing, but nobody’s voice came out. And now people write
wonderful ethnographies with people’s voices in it. I was just on a chair
of a [INAUDIBLE] the Society for the
Anthropology of North America. And we had 30 books,
and they were about 10 of them that were
really terrific. And mostly, they
were ones in which you got the voices of
people who were studying. And somebody like Glenn
Stevens, for example, has kind of given
authorship to the folks she worked with in Oaxaca. Now these are folks who
speak an indigenous language, but she’s used the notion
of testimonial in her book, and also has a website where
the testimonials are all there. And they’re offered by the
people who are speaking them. And so I think that’s the
next thing we have to do, is do more of this co-authorship
with people that we work with rather than treat them as
subjects we go out and study, but as coworkers on
projects that they want to have done, as well. And I think feminist
anthropology has had a big role in creating
that kind of possibility in anthropology. But you’re quite right, Peggy. Great comment. Yes? Barbara? [INAUDIBLE] Thanks. This is not really a question. It’s just an observation. So I’m Barbara
Rabb, class of ’81, and I was one of the people
who helped with this project. And one of things that
I was reminded of– I think I knew this at the time. I also, with Amy, was a
reporter at the Herald, and Amy was actually my editor
and handed the Lamphere beat over to me for a short time. But one of the things that I was
reminded of as we put this all together– and I just feel
like it’s part of the texture of what makes all of
this so interesting– is that I believe at the
time that Judge Pettine was the judge on this case and
Milton Stanzler there was the lead attorney on this
case, they were both members of the university club, which
did not allow women to not only join but I’m not even
sure women– could women– Anne Fausto was the
[INAUDIBLE] experience. [INAUDIBLE] were with her. So I mean I guess– [INAUDIBLE] club
member [INAUDIBLE]. For people who didn’t hear
that, if you were a woman, you had to be
invited and then you had to go in through a separate
door, which is– but anyway. But to the point
about the university club is that university
business was conducted there. Yes. [? Brendan ?] was
an honorary member. And people went there for
lunch when [INAUDIBLE], so that’s why you could
go to lunch with them. But– I wanted to raise
that both just because of the sort of rich irony
of it, but also I would also say that your case– and
of course what was going on in the world, but that was all
part of it– not only changed this university and I
think other universities, but also our little town of
Providence, Rhode Island, where they were
things going on even among people who work entirely
sympathetic to your case that were antithetical
to the spirit of it. So I just thought it
was worth pointing out. Yes? Wait a minute. Let’s hand the mic back. Hi. Susan Gerbi. I’m the founding
chair and served for 10 years as chair of
the Department of Molecular Biology, Cell Biology,
and Biochemistry. So I have two
questions, but before that I just wanted to mention
that when I was job interviewed at Brown in 1972, they took
me to lunch at the university club. And we had to go in
through a special door and go into a special room where
women– that was the only room where women were allowed. But nonetheless, I was hired. And so two questions. One, having served as chair
of my department for 10 years, I wanted to applaud you
for your efforts which brought the consent decree
to Brown, because that really has been terrific in terms of
having transparency and putting in place procedural issues–
and procedures, I should say. And so my first question
is that has recently been vacated because a
sufficient amount of time has elapsed and they feel
that Brown has done its thing. Do you see any
negatives in terms of vacating the consent decree? I think a panel is going to
work on that in the next– OK. I mean, I wasn’t here for
that, but I know that– and it’s in the
timeline downstairs– that 10 years later,
the university moved to vacate the decree, and the
women faculty said, nuh-uh, we’re not far enough. And so it wasn’t until, I
think, ’93– is that right? When it was vacated? And so maybe we can save
that for the next session. [INTERPOSING VOICES] That’d be great. Question? And then the second
question I have is I was a junior faculty
member coming up for tenure just at the time
all this was happening, and so as you alluded to, Brown
was in deep financial trouble, and the corporation
caught on to the fact that President
Hornig was dipping into the endowment in order to
pay the heating bills, which is a no-no. And they slapped his
hand and said, no, you can’t do this because we’re
going to be totally broke. And as a result of that and the
economic crisis the university was facing, a white paper
was sent out to all faculty– especially to
untenured faculty– to say that when our contracts
were going to come due, none of us would
probably be renewed because the university had
to contract, at which point I started looking for another
job and then, as it turned out, I had two job offers
and then my tenure case was positive at
Brown, and so I stayed. But because of the
financial difficulty that Brown faced at the time
and the mounting legal fees, they sent out a request
to other universities to come and help them. And there was no university
that came to assist Brown financially in terms of this. So I wonder if you could
comment on the national impact that your case may have
had, especially because of the fact that
universities seemed to be not wanting
to get involved with this type of thing? Well, I think a
lot of universities were and had cases against
them, because my sense is that Title VII started to apply
to universities around 1972, and my case was filed in ’75. And when Susan [? Reeves ?]
wrote this thing [INAUDIBLE] monthly about the
case, which was somewhere probably
in early ’77, she listed a whole bunch of cases. And so not all of them turned
out in the women’s favor. But I think the
fear at Brown, which I think was probably
pretty widespread, was that courts would intervene
in these personnel decisions and that universities
were different kinds of institutions. But I think at the
same time, people started covering their
back ends by starting to pay more attention to the
affirmative action officer by getting their affirmative
action plan approved. And so a lot of this was
kind of a ripple effect. You didn’t have to sue
a university to realize, well, we’ve got to have
teacher evaluations or we really need to have
some kind of staffing plan and we really need
to have goals. And timetables went out
the window pretty quickly because people
began to call them quotas, which they were not. But I think universities
started to change with this. There wasn’t just my case. But people could
see that there were ways in which women [INAUDIBLE]
discrimination and there were things that people needed
to do to kind of shore up their act. Thanks. I think we have time
for one more question. Yeah, there we go. Who was it? Was it Coppelia? Was it you? Did you have your hand up? Oh, OK. Sorry. Oh, OK. Hi. I’m Coppelia Kahn. I just retired in June from
the English department. And I wanted to make
a comment– it’s not a question– about the great
benefits for everyone– male faculty members as well
as female faculty members, and the institution as a
whole– from your case. When– I believe this is
true– when Brown started pursuing the tenuring process
under the consent decree, a lot of rules of transparency
and fairness were instituted. And I’d just like to
touch on two of them. One, letters from outside
evaluators were required and the process of choosing
the outside evaluators was vetted and overseen so that
the deck couldn’t be stacked. You get to put in some names
yourself, but the department– Yes, the candidate
puts in names, the department puts in
names, and the chair looks over this and so on. And frankly, I’m
forgetting the second rule. But that gives you an idea. And I was here at Brown
when the first motion to vacate the consent decree
was put forth to the faculty. And like many people,
I was worried. And I remember the
faculty meeting in which at least
two male faculty members from the sciences
stood up and said that under these rules,
more women had been hired in the sciences and that
was of great benefit to them as researchers and as teachers. So this rule, the Louise
Lamphere case and the consent decree, had enormous impact. It made the tenuring
process much fairer. Not that it’s perfect, and
injustices can still occur. But it had enormous impact. [APPLAUSE] Thank you. We will take a short break
and reconvene at a little around 11 o’clock.

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