New York Times

February 12, 1997

District's University Struggles to Survive

By MICHAEL JANOFSKY

WASHINGTON -- The University of the District of Columbia opened its doors 20 years ago as the only land-grant institution of higher education serving the nation's capital, and one of just a few in the country supported by a city.

Since then, thousands of students -- most of them black, low-income residents -- have taken advantage of its minimal entrance requirements and low tuition rates to prepare for careers as scientists, doctors, teachers and public officials.

But like the district itself, the university has fallen on hard times -- struggles that reflect the larger problems of the district's continuing fiscal and political crises, combined with ever-present tensions over race.

The skid at the university has become so pronounced, driving tuition costs up, that access to higher education could move well beyond the reach of many minority students, a battle many people thought was long since won.

"It makes me angry, angry that after fighting for civil rights 35 years ago in South Carolina, we're doing the same thing here," said Cherrie D. Williams, a program manager for a campus research group. "It's like the clock has stopped, and the issue hasn't changed: denying access to education to minorities."

For the current academic year, the university's appropriation from the city is $38 million, less than half of what it was six years ago. To help offset the loss, tuition costs are scheduled to rise for a third consecutive year in the fall, to $2,360 a semester from $1,850 for full-time students and to $75 a credit hour from $58 for part-time students. All intercollegiate athletic programs are being eliminated after this year.

And just last week, the university trustees approved a plan to dismiss more than a third of the university's work force -- 125 faculty members and 193 support staff -- to close an $18 million budget gap for the current fiscal year.

The overall effects are hitting the university hard. Enrollment has steadily fallen since 1990, with a 25 percent decline from last year alone, to a current student population of 7,464. And campus officials say classes that now have 20 students could increase to 45 in the fall.

"Morale is pretty low," said Maria Washington, a senior art major who is the fourth generation of her family to attend the university or one of its predecessors. "Most people I know are confused and concerned."

Since a federally appointed control board took over management of all city finances two years ago, spending cuts have become a way of life throughout the district government as it struggles to achieve a balanced budget for the first time in years.

But supporters of the university, which is on upper Connecticut Avenue in the middle of a comfortable white neighborhood, say the control board's cuts at the university are hurting the city's most vulnerable students, those who, because of low grades, poor test scores or financial circumstances, are blocked from attending private universities or other colleges in the area. The city university requires only a high school degree or the equivalent to enroll.

Administrators, faculty members and students, placed in the role of lobbying for their university by the waning city support, contend that low-income residents of the city have the same right to higher education as anyone else and have the same potential to become productive residents of a city badly in need of expanding its tax base.

And because work and family responsibilities mean that two-thirds of the students attend part time, stretching the time they need to graduate to six years or more, university supporters have also found themselves defending the institution against complaints that it is a luxury in a time of economic crisis.

"The school is identified as a school for African-Americans, and in a sense, it has been 'Willie Hortonized,' like it's O.K. to whip UDC around," said Meredith Rode, an art professor at the university who is white. "That only perpetuates negative ideas that aren't true."

But Andrew F. Brimmer, an economist who was appointed chairman of the control board, said he was not persuaded by any of the social arguments. "The university has a mission, and it ought to pursue the mission to the extent it has the funds than can achieve that mission," he said. "It has to do the best it can with what it has."

In formulating budget priorities for the city's 1998 fiscal year, which begins on Oct. 1, the control board focused on improvements in three areas -- public safety, public schools and public works.

"The university," said Brimmer, who is black, "was not on the list."

The district university was born as a union of three public colleges with widely different programs -- Federal City College, a four-year liberal arts institution; D.C. Teachers College, a four-year college, and the Washington Technical Institute, a two-year vocational and trade school.

It remains one of just two four-year public universities in the country that derives most of its financial support from a city; the other is Washburn University in Topeka, Kan. All the others are supported primarily with state money, hundreds of millions of dollars annually at the larger institutions.

But over the years, the union of the district institutions proved to be more a merger than a consolidation. The new university tried to be all things to all students, offering majors in areas as diverse as English, aviation and gospel singing, and the mix put added strain on the annual budget.

University administrators said they intended to retain as many of the courses as possible in the future, but they acknowledged that fewer classes would be offered in the fall and that students would be counseled more rigorously to take courses that will help them land jobs in the metropolitan area.

"If there is student demand for other courses, we'll try to accommodate them to the extent we can," said Julius F. Nimmons Jr., who was named acting president of the university in November. Nimmons, succeeding Tilden J. LeMelle, who resigned under pressure from the control board, became the 10th person to serve as president, acting president or interim president since the union of the three institutions.

Brimmer blamed instability at the top and poor judgment for many of the problems that have beset the university. But students and faculty members direct much of their blame toward the control board, which was created by Congress and is viewed by many city residents as an occupation force that is supplanting local elected officials. And because most members of Congress are white, some university supporters, including Mayor Marion S. Barry Jr., have suggested that racism has played a part in decisions affecting the university.

"Factually, UDC is a predominantly black institution, and some people in town do not want a good opportunity for those students to get a higher education," Barry said in an interview last week. "It might be subconscious, but these people have a different philosophy about what's best for the university than I do."

One of those people, Barry said, is Brimmer, whom the mayor described as being insensitive to the value of an institution that spends far less per student than the $25,000 a year it costs to keep one inmate at the city's Lorton Correctional Institute.

"I don't know what the philosophy of the control board is," said Barry, whose wife, Cora Masters Barry, once taught political science at the university. "It's a lot different than mine."

Twice in the last 12 months, cuts in the university budget brought racial politics into the open. In each case, Barry was in the middle of it.

Last March, he joined hundreds of university students blocking traffic on Connecticut Avenue. The demonstration lasted 14 hours. Before he left, Barry told the students, "There are people on the D.C. Council and in the Congress who want to destroy this university."

Then, in December, shortly after the control board asked university officials to find $16.2 million in spending cuts, the mayor took aim at Kathy Patterson, a white council member who was pushing hard for all city agencies not to exceed their budgets. He said, "Some people don't want blacks and young black adults to get a quality education."

In the interview, Barry softened his criticism of Ms. Patterson, saying he did not intend to single her out. But he insisted that a student population that is almost 75 percent black is an easy target for derision -- and budget cuts.

Faculty members like Thomas Stewart, a professor of political science, only shake their head at what they view as a steady assault on the university. After listening to President Clinton stress the need for educational opportunities in his State of the Union address last Tuesday, Stewart said he could not understand why the message has not reached the control board.

"Here we are, based in the nation's capital, and so little effort is focused on enhancing what we do," he said. "The perception is, we're low-income people who shouldn't receive an education because of test scores and money. But we have success stories here. We just don't have the support."