In Regard to the Question of
University of Oregon Spirit . . .
I was raised during the fifties and sixties in a small logging community at the southern end of the Willamette Valley. I followed news about the University of Oregon since I was in the market for a higher education. What I heard, read, and later experienced provided a precious lesson about free speech and trusting others to conduct their lives without a controlling agent ordaining what exposure a young mind might be allowed to encounter. In other words, the University didn’t want to be my mother.
During the sixties the University president, Arthur S. Flemming, was chastised by the left for allowing a speaker from the John Birch Society to answer an invitation and speak on campus. Then Flemming was hammered by the right for allowing the same student group to invite Gus Hall, head of the U.S. communist party, to speak. Through all the rhetoric and hysteria Flemming kept his eye on the prize, free speech. I was fascinated by this man who actually believed young persons like myself could be trusted enough to listen to any message and make up our own minds. What a radical idea.
Flemming was a Republican who had earlier served as President Eisenhower’s Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare. During his time in Oregon Flemming sometimes criticized the Kennedy administration, went on to serve another institution of higher learning, was nominated by President Nixon to be Commissioner on Aging and then was appointed to the chairmanship of the U.S. Civil Rights Commission, where he served until he was booted out by President Reagan for his commitment to enforcement of laws on civil rights. In other words, Flemming was fired for doing his job.
Flemming sometimes made enemies and was difficult to define politically. He was accused of being a humanist and a progressive thinker. His later years were spent in service raising national awareness about topics related to aging and access to health care.
I have a copy of a flyer, On Guard For America, distributed by the far right when President Flemming stood his ground in allowing a known communist to speak at the university. The pamphlet lists five “big men” in Oregon education who were “allowing our kids to be duped and used.” Arthur S. Flemming is at the top of the list, followed by the names of the presidents of Reed College, Oregon College of Education, Lewis and Clark College, and Portland State College.
The flyer asks people to demand that these men rescind their support of the communist speaker. By way of a compliment, the flyer names one university president as having “the principal and courage to refuse permission to the communist, atheist, criminal, Gus Hall. That man was the president of Oregon State University.
Right there was a distinction worth noting for a young mind in search of a place to obtain higher education. Oregon State University would decide for me what I could or could not hear. The University of Oregon had faith in me to listen and learn from even a controversial speaker.
President Flemming’s tenure was shadowed by political forces far beyond my capacity to understand or influence, but I knew he was rooting for me. That was precisely what I needed to wade through the controversial late sixties and the challenges of an adult life to follow.
I never met the man, not even on the day I received my degree in Autzen Stadium. Only graduate degrees merited a trip to the podium. My class, the class of 1968, were asked to stand and a blanket blessing was waved in our direction.
There were petitioners at all entrances to the stadium that day. They were promoting gun control. The flags were at half-mast. Robert F. Kennedy had been shot to death that week in Los Angeles. Adding to national stress, James Earl Ray, suspected in the killing of Dr. Martin Luther King, was arrested in London.
Arthur S. Flemming looked out over a stadium full of young minds bewildered and angered by events of the time. Many of us had as high school seniors experienced the loss of President John F. Kennedy.
Graduation day in June 1968 was hot. Tension rested heavy on the Eugene air. Instead of following a cautious route with his words, Arthur S. Flemming spoke loud and clear. He eulogized the slain RFK and urged us all to get politically involved and support candidates who wouldn’t compromise justice. “Don’t play it safe,” he said while encouraging involvement in government affairs. He said we could trust our Bill of Rights and still have law and order. And then he called for a moment of prayer for the young people who were missing from the day’s event, young people then fighting in Vietnam.
Off we went into the world of 1968. It was twenty years later in my capacity as coordinator of a program sponsored by the Douglas County Health Department that I attended a conference on aging at a community college. Featured speaker was Arthur S. Flemming, who was then traveling the country advocating health care access for all citizens.
I was excited to hear the man speak again, but concerned as I watched a frail, older man with white hair and stooped shoulders mount the podium. The audience was restless and chatty. I feared for the capacity of this older gentleman to be heard, but I need not have worried. Flemming raised his face and his commanding voice took possession of the room. He advocated, admonished, warned, and enticed those present to work toward health care reform.
After the speech I approached Flemming. I stretched out my hand and said, “I’m one of yours, University of Oregon class of sixty-eight.” On that overly warm day in September, Arthur S. Flemming looked me square in the eye and asked his question. “And what have you done with your life?” The man expected an answer.
I did my best to impress, after all, he taught me about freedom of inquiry and what the word university means. I remain proud to be a UO graduate. The UO spirit empowered my mind as I matured on campus. Having a faculty and an administration who defended my right to think for myself blew my mind. They all trusted me, right up to the president.
