Third Alternative Memories on MyDuquesne
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The Third Alternative
America was, in many ways, a nation divided. A controversial war raged overseas. Long-oppressed minorities demanded their civil rights. Young people rose up against their elders, championing fresh new ideas and railing against everything “the establishment” stood for. Disagreements escalated from shouting to shoving and, too often, to shooting.
It was 1970…a time when everything was changing, and anything was possible.
Hostilities in Vietnam had passed the five-year mark with no end in sight. More than a century after the Emancipation Proclamation, blacks asserted their freedom—sometimes nonviolently, sometimes leaving cities ablaze. Advocates of the status quo resisted using any weapon available—from filibusters to burning crosses to bombs. The nightly news showed a parade of protests in every venue imaginable—city streets, public parks, college campuses.
Against this backdrop, one campus stood out. From coast to coast, academic buildings burned. At Duquesne, new structures were being built and opened at a rate of one per year. To be sure, the divisions so glaringly evident throughout the rest of American society existed on our Bluff, yet they were typically voiced in a more respectful and less disruptive manner here than elsewhere.
In large part, the relative quiet could be traced to the influence of the University President, the Rev. Henry J. McAnulty, C.S.Sp. Father Mac was known for his openness, willingness to listen to all sides of a debate, and ability to balance divergent opinions with the needs of the University. So universally respected was Father Mac that politicians on both left and right implored him to run for mayor. In characteristically diplomatic fashion, he declined.
Father Mac had more pressing concerns. Duquesne stood at the brink of bankruptcy.
The building boom had been financed with debt and fueled by optimism. Some of the new facilities addressed long-neglected needs like student recreation and modern academic space. Others, especially residence halls, were undertaken in expectation that Duquesne’s historic market position as a low-cost commuter school would soon rapidly change.
In fact, it was already changing. Throughout the 1960s, new competitors including Point Park, Robert Morris, La Roche and CCAC had emerged. The tipping point came in 1966, when Pitt, formerly a private school, became state-related and slashed its tuition in half.
Suddenly, Duquesne was a high-cost provider, attracting more students from outside the area (hence the need for housing). Enrollment kept growing, as students were drawn to the distinctive Duquesne experience today referred to as “education for the mind, heart and spirit.” All appeared well, but a “Perfect Storm” of circumstances would soon intensify.
In 1969, state legislators in Harrisburg wrangled endlessly over the budget, delaying the release of student loans for months. Many students deferred enrollment or transferred to less expensive schools. Meanwhile, Duquesne faced a triple threat—inflation in the national economy, high debt load, and low endowment. The inevitable response was a steep tuition hike of 31 percent (equivalent to about $8,000 per year at today’s rates).
Enrollment began dropping; the cash flow crisis worsened. Drastic action was required.
Until then, the critical nature of Duquesne’s financial distress was a closely held secret, but student government leaders soon knew what was coming. They went to see the president.
At other schools during this era, students descending on a president’s office were often turned away. Students would then drop to the floor and declare a “sit-in.” Administrators would hunker down in their offices (or escape through a back door if one was available), while security personnel would either watch the students protest or remove them violently.
Duquesne’s student leaders rang the doorbell of Trinity Hall at night. Not only did Father Mac answer, he let them in, and listened intently as they shared their concerns and ideas.
Days later, on April 21, 1970 Father Mac took the unprecedented step of cancelling classes for an afternoon and summoning the entire campus community to the Union Ballroom.
After candidly explaining how Duquesne had spiraled into insolvency, Father Mac turned the podium over to the student president, Rita Ferko, who explained the University’s options:
1) Impose another steep tuition increase (the equivalent of $4,200 today),
2) Close the University, or…
3) Students themselves could raise money to keep tuition down and the doors open.
Within minutes, 550 students had volunteered. Three weeks later, more than 1,000 had signed up. Under the leadership of student Pat Joyce, a committee spent the summer of 1970 planning what became known as “The Third Alternative: Students to Save Duquesne.” By the time classes resumed in August, the volunteer roster had swelled to nearly 2,000.
On Sept. 10, Father Mac again cancelled classes and assembled the multitudes. The financial situation was still dire, he explained, before Joyce detailed the ambitious plan.
The rallying cry: “We need someone to give $1 million or a million someones to give $1.”
Night after night, busloads of students fanned out across Pittsburgh neighborhoods, not as beggars, Joyce insisted, but as ambassadors of a 92-year-old tradition. The community responded to the tune of $300,000, which was matched by the Richard King Mellon Foundation. Student phone banks called alumni across the country, raising another $61,000, and sold scholarship raffle tickets, clearing another $25,000. Moved by the students’ dedication, alumni and private supporters eventually raised the total to $2 million.
The Wall Street Journal observed that, “In this year of student protest, demonstration, and anti-administration rhetoric and violence, it’s unusual when college kids try to bail the college administration out of its financial troubles, but the idea is catching on at Duquesne.”
At the end of the effort, on Oct. 14, student organizers set off from Altoona on a 96.4 mile march back to Pittsburgh. It was a gesture of thanks; the distance equaled the length of a million dollar bills placed end-to-end. The march ended three days later with a rally in Point State Park. To the unknowing observer, the thousands of students may have looked like just another protest scene from the evening news. In truth, it was a celebration of Duquesne’s unique presence in the community, and the students who were determined to save it.
Little evidence remains of this defining moment in Duquesne’s history, save for a plaque in the second floor lobby of College Hall and a photo displayed in the first floor lobby.
The Third Alternative was more than a movement. It was the prefect intersection of a beloved institution’s need with the activist tenor of the times. Students of all beliefs put aside their differences. They focused on solutions, not scapegoats, joining together in agreement that Duquesne was worth saving, and nobody was better qualified to do it.
Four decades later, we salute their efforts, and the one-in-a-million president who made their achievements possible. Alumni and students alike will join in the commemoration.
Click on the links below to learn more and to join the celebration:
Third Alternative Memories on MyDuquesne