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A history to 1953 of the School of Education of the University of Southern California

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A history to 1953 of the School of Education of the University of Southern California

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Content A HISTORY TO 1953 OF THE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION OF
THE UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
by
Leon Levitt
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF EDUCATION
June 1970
This dissertation, written under the direction
of the Chairman of the candidate's Guidance
Committee and approved by all members of the
Committee, has been presented to and accepted
by the Faculty of the School of Education in
partial fulfillm ent of the requirements for the
degree of D octor of Education.
D ate L .L I } . UL ...
Dean
Guidance Committee
' Chairman
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many persons have been indulgent to a fault in allow
ing themselves to be imposed upon so that this disserta
tion might properly be researched and written. The fol
lowing passing mention of some of their names can only be
a small sign of a large debt acknowledged thereby.
Among those who had a hand in seeing the work through
were Dr. Irving R. Melbo, Dean of the School of Education
of the University of Southern California, who provided
vital counsel on the project and permitted access to vital
records; Miss Helen Jones, Administrative Assistant to the
Dean, who facilitated acquisition of the documents; Pro
fessor Leslie E, Wilbur, who patiently accompanied the
writer on the journey that this dissertation represents;
the other doctoral committee members, who gave much-needed
encouragement. Professor Chester Gilpin and Professor
Wendell E. Cannon, the latter of whom also provided docu
ments and insights drawn from over twenty years service on
the faculty; Miss Azhderian and her staff of reference
librarians, who uncomplainingly raised ponderous and musty
tomes from the archives; and others who gave variously of
time, effort, and material along the way: Professor
Robert Brackenbury, Mr. Willis Duniway, Mrs. Ruth Farrar,
Professor D. Welty Lefever, Professor Robert Naslund, Pro
fessor Myron Olson, Professor Earl Pullias, Professor
Manuel Servin, Professor Louis Thorpe, Professor Elmer
Wagner, and Mr. Leonard Wines.
Three others merit separate recognition for having
contributed so materially, relevantly, and pertinently to
the study that their words are woven into the very spirit
and substance of the study: Professor Merritt Thompson,
Professor Frederick Weersing, and Dean Osman Hull; to Dean
Hull's gracious widow these words of gratitude are sent.
One can only hope that the dissertation meets with
the approval of those named and unnamed and that it may
give some pleasure and gratification to them as the fruit
of their magnanimity,
ii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. THE PROBLEM................................. 1
Introduction ............................ 1
Purpose of the S t u d y .............. 2
Limitations and Delimitations of
the Study............................ 4
Delimitation of the Time Matrix .... 9
II. ASSUMPTIONS, METHODOLOGY AND PROCEDURES . . . 14
Assumptions...........................14
Methodology .......................... 19
Procedures....................... 34
III. REVIEW OF RELATED LITERATURE ................ 38
On the Order of Chapters.......... 38
Categories of Related Literature . . . 40
Primary Sources .......................... 40
Related Secondary Sources .............. 46
Other Relevant Secondary Sources . . . 57
Overview of the Review of Related
Literature.......................... 104
Postscript to Chapter III ....... 10^
IV. THE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION: GENESIS....... 116
Announcement ............................ 116
A Retrospection .......................... 117
The Graduate Council ................... 139
The Summer Session.................146
The Teachers* Appointment Registry . . 147
Precedent.............................148
111
Chapter Page
V. EARLY YEARS OF THE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION . . . 151
The Name....................................151
First Faculty of the School of
Education..................................155
Dual Professorial Affiliation
and Duties..................................157
Purposes of the School of
Education..................................162
First Courses and Curricula of
the School of Education................. 169
The University High School...............173
Other Components...........................176
The Deanship of the New School
of Education............................... 178
Lester Burton Rogers ................... 184
First Reorganization of the
School of Education......................192
Foreign Language Requirement
Exceptions ............................... 199
Discontinuance of the University
High School............................... 202
The Reorganization Moves Forward . . . 208
The First Doctorate......................214
Full Professional Status .............. 219
VI. A COMING OF A G E ....................................225
Corollaries of Full Professional
Status ....................... ..... 225
Affiliated Organizations
Publications
Educational Monographs
Consultations
Credentialing and
Certification
School Surveys .......................... 242
Hull and Ford
The Los Angeles Survey
The Teacher Training
Coordinatorship ........................ 252
IV
Chapter Page
use Alumni and the Los Angeles
City Schools................................268
Teacher Placement ....................... 271
Evolving Curricular Patterns ............ 284
The Doctor of Education Degree
The Bachelor of Science
in Education
Master's Degrees in Education
Evolving Credential Patterns ............ 344
Credential Secretary
Course Proliferation
A Major Curricular Reorganization . . . 354
A Hard Look at Teacher Training .... 364
The President Intervenes .................. 373
The Council on Teacher Education .... 379
Advisory Council
Wartime Services of the School
of Education............................394
Preparation for the Postwar Period . . . 402
Dean Rogers Retires.....................406
VII. HARVEST OF THE POSTWAR E R A .................. 409
Antecedents and Processes of Change . . 409
The School of Education Asserts
Its Autonomy............................410
Assertions of Professorial
Prerogatives .............................. 417
In the University at Large
President von KleinSmid
Becomes Chancellor
Within the School of Education
Dean Rogers Retires
The Accreditation Report of 1945
Lester Burton Rogers:
An Assessment.....................434
A Change in Administration .... 437
Governance by Committee
The Administrative Committee
Osman Ransom Hull................ 441
Chapter Page
Departmentalization ..................... 444
Precedent
Precursors
Dean Rogers' Opposition
"Instructional Groups"
Dean Hull's Opposition
"Area Groups"
The First Real Departments
Effects of Departmentalization .... 464
A Word of Criticism
Dr, Raubenheimer's Opposition
The Department Chairmanship
Opposition Fades
The President's Report
of 1948-1949
Dean Hull's Assessment
Appraised
Dean Hull Returns to Teaching............ 479
Measures of the Man
Dr. Cannon's Eulogy
A New Dean Is Named.....................48 3
Irving Robert Melbo ..................... 484
VIII. REFLECTIONS ON THE HISTORY OF THE
SCHOOL OF EDUCATION............................ 488
The Search for a Philosophic
Framework....................................488
Three Pervasive Synbiotic Themes . . . 494
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY .................................... 500
vi
LIST OF TABLES
Table Page
1. Comparative Graph of Doctorates, Masters,
and Credentials: 1935-1965 ..................... 220
2. Sales of Educational Monographs ................. 236
3. Numbers of Los Angeles City Schools Teacher
Training Coordinators Assigned to the
University of Southern California .............. 264
4. Comparative Statistics: Appointment Office . . 283
5. Number of Ph. D. and Ed. D. Graduates in
Education at the University of Southern
California : 1927 through 1953 312
6. School of Education June Graduates: 1930-
1935 319
7. Candidates for Degrees in Education: 1948-
1949 and Estimates for 1949-1950 342
8. Organization Chart ............................... 463
vii
CHAPTER I
THE PROBLEM
Introduction
A UNIVERSITY MUST CONDUCT RESEARCH INTO ITS OWN
AFFAIRS AND PURPOSE; IT MUST GATHER EVIDENCE TO
BE USED IN MAKING DECISIONS ABOUT THE UNIVERSITY
(Topping, 1964, p. 29).
The quotation that opens the text of this disserta
tion is Number 8 of the "Ten Basic Convictions" which
serve as the guidelines for the University of Southern
California Master Plan For Enterprise and Excellence in
Education. The quotation serves, also, to embody both
the theme of this study and its very raison d'etre; for,
theoretically and pragmatically, it is axiomatic that
ongoing self-study must occur within an educational
institution. Such self-study is, for example, the very
cornerstone of the accreditation process.
At the University of Southern California, research
projects of several kinds, all delving into affairs of
the University, have been and are being conducted. Among
1
the more comprehensive undertakings is the history of the
University, commissioned by President Norman Topping, now
completed by its author, Professor Manuel P. Servin, and
his collaborator, Dr. Iris Higbie Wilson (1969). While
Dr. Servin's commission has been a matter of common know
ledge within the University community, less well known is
that Dr. Irving R. Melbo, Dean of the School of Education,
and his predecessor, the late Dr. Osman R. Hull, both felt
the need for a similar study of the School of Education
and, in fact, took some preliminary steps toward commis
sioning one prior to the present writer's expression of
interest in the subject. It is logical to infer that
Dr. Topping, Dr. Hull, and Dr. Melbo desired the respect
ive historical studies for the reasons implicit in Number
8 of the "Ten Basic Convictions."
Purpose of the Study
The purpose of this study is to gather, organize,
and present in a coherent and literate form evidence
regarding the history of the School of Education of the
University of Southern California which may be used in the
decision-making processes of the University, generally.
and of the School of Education, specifically.
Scholarly endorsement for undertaking such a study
as a doctoral dissertation with the purpose stipulated
is plentiful and consistent. According to Borg (1963),
The historical study of an educational . . .
institution gives us a perspective that can do
much to help us to understand our present edu
cational system, and this understanding in turn
can help to establish a sound basis for further
progress and improvement (p. 188).
Renetzky, in fact, faults the paucity of studies of
universities and argues for more of them and, even, for
more elaborate ones. "A university," writes Renetzky,
"is an institution which applies systematic research to
almost everything under the sun--except itself. A uni
versity’s purposes are important enough and complex
enough to warrant the most intense study" (1967, p. 16).
The historian Homer Carey Hockett posits as equally
valid a more philosophic purpose than that of Borg.
"The historian’s task," muses Hockett,
is a dignified and worthy part of man's unceas
ing effort to discover what may be discoverable
concerning the cosmos and his place in it, and
to perpetuate the knowledge gained. As Thucydides
suggested so long ago, "an exact knowledge of the
past" may aid in "the interpretation of the fu
ture." . . . the link between past and future is
even closer than he thought. History makes the
deeds of men live after them. Its function is
to transmit knowledge of the past. It is a na
tion’s memory, perpetuating its deeds, its tra
ditions, and even its mistakes, but also its
aspirations and ideals. It makes the past a
part of us, shapes our deeds in many ways, and
links past and present with future, making all
one (1955), p. 8).
Furthermore, Hockett argues, even the poorest doctoral
dissertations have "supplied matter for riper scholars to
digest .... A dissertation . . . can be at best only
a fragment of history, but it attains a kind of immortal
ity if it loses its identity in something greater than
itself" (p. 232).
The "something greater than itself" in which this
dissertation would "lose its identity" is the School of
Education of the University of Southern California, and
even the University as a whole, and its decision-making
processes.
Limitations and Delimitations of the Study
The catalogues of the constituent schools and col
leges of a university and the minutes of their faculty
meetings are replete with data pertinent to their history.
But these data merely reflect the implementation of de
cisions, without explaining their background or evolution.
Such entries as standards of admission and graduation;
numbers of students admitted and graduated; numbers of
dissertations; faculty appointments and resignations; and
altered, deleted, or added courses and curricula have
their place in the chronicle. But, if these data are
allowed to dominate, if they stand at the center of an
historical study, even if an attempt is made to fill in
the bones with narrative, they will remain the decayed
remnants of the past.
Accordingly, the plan of this dissertation, its re
search, format, and execution, avoids the straight chron
icling of events in the history of the School of Educa
tion. Instead, a topical study, roughly chronological
within topical chapters, as each of these chapters lends
itself to chronology, was considered to be more suitable
to an historical study of an educational institution, and
the Table of Contents of this dissertation denotes im
plementation of that consideration.
It was further considered that the study would
necessarily be delimited according to the selection of
topics to be treated as well as to the manner of treat
ment. This delimitation in an historical study is almost
a personal matter, and although a case might be made for
each act of selection on scientific and scholarly grounds,
it seems more relevant to support its apparent arbitrari
ness. The fact is that students of history uphold the
right of the historical writer to mold the telling to his
own sensitivities and perceptions. Allan Nevins, one of
America’s most distinguished historians, puts it this way:
A good historian sees how a certain subject can
be shaped to make the most of the particular
materials he possesses, the talents and experi
ence he has accumulated .... This is right
and proper. Especially is it right and proper
for a writer to shape his book according to his
talents (1967, p. 13).
Moreover, and far more important, is that the freedom so
to choose and plan determines the very success of the
work. Nevins explains:
Why and how are the best historical works written?
They are planned because the author had a vision,
or an approach to one. The subject takes hold
of him, inspires him, and lifts him to a plane
where he sees as in a golden dream the volume he
intends to write. He sees also that it must be
written in a particular way : in precisely his
way and no other, with his selection of facts and
his point of view (p. 12).
Are scholars, then, to discard the criteria of schol
arship in historical writing and defer to personal idio-
syncracy? Assuredly not. Rather, explains Nevins,
The first requirement of the true lover of
history is . . . that he shall be tolerant
of all themes, all approaches, and all styles,
so long as the work under examination meets
two tests. First, it must be written in a
patient search for truth about some phase or
segment of the past. . . . second . . . its
presentation must be designed to give moral
and intellectual nutriment to the spirit of
man .... This is essentially a literary
design (pp. 15-16).
Thus, in historical writing, the criteria of schol
arship are observed at the same time that a literary work
is produced. In the case of the history of an institu
tion, the undertaking may be more difficult than other
wise. At least, Catherine Drinker Bowen, one of America’s
most learned and talented historians, thinks so. She has
frequently refused commissions to write institutional
history, she says, because "Institutional history repelled
me; it seemed kind of anti-history, bloodless and dull"
(1967, p. 33).
Lest it be bloodless and dull, this dissertation has
been molded by and to its writer. It is a tall order, as
Miss Bowen would attest, for she compounds her trepida
tion of the institutional history with the contention
that writing a doctoral dissertation has a "deadening
effect" which the historian must "live down" before he
8
can produce a worthwhile historical study. Out of respect
for her astuteness, the inference is drawn that she would
readily admit that it ought not to be so. On the con
trary, as she invokes Renan's dictum in relation to her
own work that "One should write only about what one loves"
(p. 26), so she would be pleased to learn that a doctoral
dissertation can be a labor both of scholarship and af
fection.
This dissertation, then, in the spirit of Renan and
Bowen and others who follow them, is wrought with the in
tent to employ the historian's craft while avoiding the
pitfalls of pedantry and prattle; viz., to search respon
sibly for the truth and to report it honestly, readably,
and discreetly. This statement sets the tone sustained
throughout these pages. Herein is no muckraking expedi-
tion--despite the constraints of current vogue for hair
splitting analysis. As Miss Bowen and Dr. Nevins both
have stated, the debunking school of historical writing
does not stand the test of time or, for that matter, of
scholarship. The true historian. Miss Bowen comments,
her own experience and the roster of the great names of
her craft convince her, approaches his subject with
"affection and respect" (p. 26).
In relation to the study of a university, Renetzky
endorses the attitude Miss Bowen advocates. For "the
processes of the university," he writes,
are infinitely subtle and complex. Where pro
cesses are subtle and complex, there is always
great opportunity for sympathetic self-study
and there is always room for almost unlimited
improvement (p. 16).
It would be less than scholarly to draw conclusions
at this juncture about the potentially "unlimited improve
ment" envisioned by Renetzky, but it is appropriate to
state that this dissertation is on the order of a "sym
pathetic self-study," examining its subject with an af
fection and respect fully in keeping with the intent, the
purposes, and the standards of a doctoral dissertation in
the form of an historical study of a school of education
of a major university.
Delimitation of the Time Matrix
The matrix of history is time. The School of Educa
tion officially was organized in 1918; by their act of
initiation, the Trustees of the University supplied the
leading edge of the matrix of the study. But what of its
10
conclusion? At what point in time should an historical
account of an institution, now at the very height of its
vitality, end? The temptation was great to round out the
time span fittingly at the institution's fiftieth year,
1968, to reap the benefit of a euphonious title. The
First Fifty Years, and to coincide with dedication of the
School's imposing new home, the Waite Phillips Hall of
Education. Scholarly justification for arbitrariness in
historical writing, cited earlier in these pages, had
already been found.
But the decision respecting temporal delimitation
was to be based upon questions of viability, and these
mitigated against the neatly fitting fifty years. A prime
consideration was the problem of scholarly detachment from
the present or near-present. The present writer has him
self been a member of the faculty of the School of Edu
cation since 1967. The affiliation has facilitated the
kind of total, affectionate, respectful immersion in the
subject Bowen, Nevins, and others deem indispensible to
historical research. But it has also magnified the ob
stacles to scholarly detachment which personal and tem
poral proximity create. For example, in the attempt to
12
each accordingly. This is what he said:
I think we can group this search for develop
ment in three eras. I call the first one "the
pioneer." That's when Dean Rogers came out
here. . . . Then the next period would be the
period of expansion of departments and defining
the scope of these departments and clarifying
our relationship with liberal arts. . . . And
then the third period, with which I was inti
mately concerned, was the post-war period of
expansion and development (1968).
The present era, under the leadership of Dean Melbo, Dr.
Hull saw as having its own distinctive character, of
"reaching out into foreign countries and into contracts
with the government on special programs," This is the
era in which the School of Education is now involved,
with which its faculty are so profoundly preoccupied,
and for which the perspective of historical detachment
proved to be so elusive.
It was thus that the temporal matrix was defined and
delimited. Without conscious intent, Dean Hull had ef
fectively prescribed the cutoff date of this history of
the School of Education. It was clear that this study
must close with the end of his tenure as Dean and the
beginning of Dean Melbo’s.
If occasional deviations from the boundaries of the
11
utilize aspects of the oral history method (see below),
several presently active members of the faculty of the
School of Education were interviewed. While the inter
views were admittedly relatively unstructured, the inter
viewees had been advised of their purpose and orientation.
And each accepted graciously, in a spirit of scholarly
cooperation. Yet none was able, despite his own and the
interviewer's efforts, to sustain the essential detach-!
ment of historical perspective. Each returned again and
again to matters of immediate concern: interdepartmental
relationships, governmental contracts, current operational
problems. So powerful was the preoccupation that the in
terviewer fell into its trap also. The substance of
these interviews with present faculty members, so vital
in other circumstances, was deemed immaterial to this
study, and most of it has been excluded from the record.
One interview, however, that with the late Dean
Osman R. Hull, in the relaxation and detachment of his
retirement, provided the informed overview which led to
the choice of a workable temporal delimitation. Dean Hull
perceived a clear distinction among the eras in the de
velopment of the School of Education and characterized
13
temporal matrix have occurred in the execution of this
work, they have happened because the limits are admitted
ly artificial. The walls of eras are solely conveniences;
and the interests of clarity, continuity, and historical
perspective must occasionally breach those walls.
14
CHAPTER II
ASSUMPTIONS, METHODOLOGY AND PROCEDURES
Assumptions
Rather too commonly, would-be historians ply their
chosen trade in the mistaken belief that history is "com
pletely divorced from science and, therefore, not demand
ing the rigor and objectivity of scientific methods"
(Borg, p. 188). To labor in historical research from
such a posture is to disregard the tenets of historicity.
The fact is that historical inquiry demands scrupulous
adherence to scientific procedures, even if not to the
precise procedural prescripts of experimental design,
because without such adherence, historical research often
becomes either "little more than an aimless gathering of
facts" (Borg, p. 190) or a fictive exercise; in either
case, the result is not definable as history or scholar
ship .
In his landmark work on historical research method-
15
ology, to which so many are indebted for historicity,^
Hockett plots a practical paradigm for the production of
a work of historical scholarship. He details three steps
as essential to the process: "the gathering of the data;
the criticism of the data; and the presentation of facts,
interpretations, and conclusions in readable form" (p. 9).
Taking Hockett's lead, the first methodological
assumption made in the design of this study is that the
three essential steps, as they may be applicable to other
types of history, are similarly applicable to a history
of an institution of higher education.
Relative to the first step, data-gathering, the
assumption is made that certain well-established methods
are best employed for gathering the data and that these
are twofold.^
Like Borg, Good (1963), and others, the present
writer relies upon Hockett for authoritative guidance in
method and procedure. If other references seem neglected
by omission, it is not through oversight but because they,
too, ultimately cite Hockett. Works antedating 1955 cite
Hockett's earlier versions with different titles.
Discussed more fully later, methods and procedures
are mentioned here in connection only with assumptions
on which they are based.
16
1. Access to or acquisition of pertinent documents.
Such documents may consist of books; scholarly articles;
newspaper and other popular periodical accounts of people
and events affecting the history of the School of Educa
tion; college bulletins; minutes of deliberative and deci
sion-making bodies, such as faculty and administrative
councils and committees; dissertations; theses; and the
many other items, published and unpublished, which emanate
from a university.
2. Personal contact with individuals who were in
volved in the activities of the School of Education dur
ing the-period under study or with individuals who have
access to or knowledge of the materials listed under (1),
above. Such personal contact may be effected via letter;
phone call; casual conversation; informal anecdotal jot
tings; interviews preserved by notetaking or electronic
tape recordings; or any convenient or expedient combina
tion of the techniques listed.
The second essential step, that of criticism of the
data, is based upon assumptions which provide a special
definition of criticism, placing criticism in this con
text at the very heart of the validity, relevance, and
17
pertinence of the study itself.
However, Hockett does not define historical criti
cism as a single construct; he does base a bifurcated
definition upon the single principle that the historian
must "doubt every statement until it has been critically
tested" (p. 13). Hockett designates the two major cate
gories of the processes of historical criticism as exter-
nal criticism and internal criticism, defined operation
ally as follows:
1. External criticism is aimed at determining whether
the evidence being evaluated is authentic ; it is aimed
therefore, "primarily at the document itself rather than
the statements contained in the document" (Borg, p. 193).
2. Internal criticism is aimed at evaluating the ac
curacy and worth of the data contained in the document.
It must ask not only what the words are, but what they
say, and whether they mean what they say. Furthermore,
it must apply the test of competence to the author of a
statement, considering, for example, "what opportunity
3
For a comprehensive explication of the two cate
gories, the reader is, once again, referred to Hockett,
pp. 13-82.
18
the maker of a statement had to know the facts" (Hockett,
p. 44). In short, internal criticism "involves evalua
ting the writer, his biases, and his possible motive for
distortion" (Borg, p. 194) and, hence, is much more dif
ficult than external criticism.
Thus, the assumption based upon the definitions of
the two major categories of historical criticism is that
the second step in the process of historical research,
criticism of the data, applies to a selective history of
the School of Education and is consonant with its purpose,
tone, and format. The assumption is also made that to
apply this step in the process is to consummate the first
phase in testing the validity, relevance, and pertinence
of the data gathered.
The final assumption underlying this study is that
the third step of the paradigm, the presentation of facts,
interpretations, and conclusions in readable form--that
is, in the form of a doctoral dissertation-- provides
another, perhaps terminal test of the validity of the
data gathered and criticized. The total process con
cluded, its functions may affirm or negate the relevance
and pertinence of the dissertation to the purpose posited
19
in Chapter I.
Methodology
The customary need to support through documentation
a research design's rationale may be ignored in histori
cal research for reasons growing out of the differences
between historical and other educational materials. In
preparing for almost any other kind of educational re
search problem, one can turn to professional journals for
articles containing brief and concise records of proced
ures and findings of earlier projects and, thereby, ac
cumulate the requisite background information. But in
historical inquiry, writes Borg,
Many of the documents . . . will be much longer,
but only a small portion of each document may
relate to the . . . project. . . . Still an
other difficulty arises because historical docu
ments used in education are often unpublished
materials . . . and therefore not classified in
such source books as Education Index (p. 192).
Even more striking than the difference in sheer bulk
between historical and other educational source materials
are the differences between respective procedures. Exper
imental design, for example, is comparatively inflexible
once it has been developed and is thereafter inextricably
woven into the very fabric of the problem it attacks. In
20
historical research design, even given Hockett*s tripart
ite procedural paradigm, there remains great internal
flexibility, with methods and procedures shifting and
changing, sometimes according to their degree of success
or failure, sometimes following the direction of the data
gathered. Such has been the case in this study, as is
implied in Chapter I and should become evident as the
dissertation unfolds.
Borg also advises limiting bibliographic reference
to documents that are immediately material to the history,
"In other forms of educational research," he writes,
the review of the literature is considered
a preliminary step to gathering data and is
aimed at providing the student with a know
ledge of previous research that he can apply
to the improvement of his own research plan.
In historical research, however, the review
of the literature actually provides the re
search data (p. 191).
Nevertheless, Chapter III of this dissertation, the
review of related literature, encompasses more than just
those documents that are material to the history of the
School of Education during the first thirty-five years
of its formal existence. Other documents, even many that
make no mention of the University of Southern California
21
and, in some cases, are far removed from it in focus, are
reviewed and are referred to throughout the text because
they open broader perspectives to the researcher and to
the reader. Their effect is to facilitate perception of
the parallels and outside influences not discernible
otherwise and to allow the kind of interpretations and
conclusions that may contribute to the success of the
study.
A major concern in the choice of documentation arose
from the distinction between primary and secondary sour
ces. "In historical research, primary sources are gener
ally defined as those documents in which the individual
observing the event being described was present" (Borg,
p. 191). History, to be of scholarly value and credibil
ity, must be able to withstand the tests of historical
criticism and be deemed accurate, authentic, and reli
able.^ Borg's warning in this regard is stern: "Exces
sive use of secondary sources of information is frequently
^The term reliable is used here not precisely in the
statistical sense, but similarly, affirming that were the
event reported by a cited source to be reported by an
other, the account would have emerged as substantially
the same.
22
found in studies not dealing with recent events" (p. 197).
As if this warning were not enough, the shortcoming was
detected in many of the dissertations examined in the
course of the research for this study. The consequences
were dual: those guilty were remembered as probably
highly unreliable potential sources; and an inclination
was nurtured to rely as much as possible upon primary
sources within the framework of the study.
This inclination led to close consideration of the
oral history method as the principal source of data for
the dissertation. All of the guides to methodology that
had been consulted had included personal interviews among
primary sources. "A primary source may be in the form of
oral testimony by a witness who was present at a given
event" (Brickman, 1949, p. 92). Succinctly and directly,
the investigator was advised to go to the living for their
recollections of the past. But the scholarly literature
reported a more elaborate adaptation of the interview
than the oral tradition in history had passed on. Sources
reported that a method known as oral history had been
formalized by Allan Nevins and had subsequently gained
wide acceptance. (See, among others, Bornet, 1955;
23
Gilb, 1957; and, especially, Rollins, 1967.) Said Rol
lins on the occasion of the National Colloquium on Oral
History, in 1967, "oral history, as Allan Nevins conceived
it . . . is spoken history, recorded accurately on tape,
then transcribed and edited by the subject" (p. 518).^
Reasons to rely upon the oral history method became
increasingly compelling. First, the scholarly and per
sonal predilection for primary sources produced certain
pragmatic problems. As a prelude to moving to the new
School of Education quarters in Waite Phillips Hall, many
old files were destroyed or discarded as obsolete. Other
files were lost or otherwise inaccessible. Still others,
which were located and scanned, devoted their substance to
immortalizing such inconsequential events as collecting
coffee money from faculty members. And, as though to bear
out Catherine Drinker Bowen's warning, the data of insti
tutional history tended to be so depersonalized that the
human element rarely obtruded in the original documents.
Another, less pragmatic but more compelling impetus
^For a fuller explication of the oral history method,
see, particularly, Bornet, 1955; Gilb, 1957; and McHargue,
1965.
24
to proceed with the oral history method derived from re
marks made by Professor Emeritus Merritt M. Thompson in
one of the interviews conducted. Many years earlier,
Professor Thompson recalled, he had himself been asked by
Dean Hull to write a history of the School of Education,
As he had always been deeply interested in history and in
the institution which played so important a role in his
life, Professor Thompson agreed. His manuscript, an un
structured chronicle of events in the history of the
School of Education, remains to this day in draft form
in the files of the Dean.
Said Professor Thompson of his work:
I felt myself that what I really was giving
was an outline of the administration of the
School of Education, a view which would be
appropriate for the Dean. But I don’t even
mention the professors. So there is no per
sonal element in my work and that, as I say,
leaves it open for you. Of course, you’ll
have to use the same material that I used
because they are the history. But you can
add to it a personal note which isn’t in my
work. That gives you a chance for uniqueness
(Thompson, 1968).
Admittedly, the requirement of uniqueness in a
dissertation had long since fallen into disuse (Hockett
P. 232). But the subconscious wish, born of early
25
indoctrination at a graduate school of arts and science,
stirred. Dr. Thompson had activated the seed!
Finally, a dissertation was unearthed that offered
precedent: it was a study of the origin and development
of Los Angeles Pierce College, written by a former member
of its faculty and based almost entirely upon the oral
history method (McHargue, 1965).
Thus, the probing of the oral history method began.
The word probing is used advisedly; for, despite convinc
ing reasons for its inclusion, commitment to the oral
history method could not be firm until several nagging
questions about its harmony with the total project could
be answered.
An initial concern related to the fact that no delim
itation to the time span of the study had yet been fixed.
This meant that if the oral history method were to be
functional, the aptness and propriety of interviewing
currently active professors, of subjecting them, their
words and their thoughts to the scrutiny of the method,
would have to be precisely determined.
In this connection, the question of interview tech
nique was an important consideration, Gilb had commented
26
on the methodological variations she had observed. "Some
times the interviewee is sent detailed questions in ad
vance, sometimes he is given only a general outline, and
sometimes he is given no advance warning ..." (p. 339).
The precise method selected for a particular research,
she continued, should accommodate the interviewer’s
skills and the interviewee’s personality. Moreover, she
concluded.
Because oral history is still in its infancy
and its creative possibilities have just begun
to be explored, the need for careful standards
should not be allowed to fetter vision and im
aginative experimentation (p. 339).
Two factors weighed heavily in the decision regard
ing interview method. One was the delicacy of the rela
tionship of the interviewer with the interviewees. Be
cause of it, the questioning of currently active profes
sors would have to be restrained and circumspect, of
emeriti, gentle and acquiescent. Nor could the interview
ees be asked for great blocks of time for interview series
and editing chores (a problem discussed by Rollins), es
pecially since the transcripts were to be treated only as
primary sources for an institutional history and were not
to be the history themselves. The other factor was that
27
the interviewer (the present writer) had close familiar
ity and technical skill in the relatively unstructured,
permissive "nondirective" interview method developed by
Carl Rogers.^ Bornet had noted its use in oral history
without serious reservations (1955, p. 241). The two
factors thus combined effectively to mandate reliance on
a nondirective interviewing technique.
Another concern was whether, under the circumstances,
the interviews with retired professors could be adequately
controlled and relevant.
At any rate, the interviews began, initially with
currently active professors who held special responsibil
ities and who were, therefore, thought to be able to add
special insights to the study, then with the retired pro
fessors who were physically accessible, available, and
amenable to the interview on the mutually agreed grounds
that their contributions would be historically relevant.^
^See Levitt, 1948, for a comprehensive explication
of the Rogerian method and its theoretical antecedents.
^Except in a few specified instances, the interview
ees will not be identified when they have not been in
cluded as having contributed materially to the study.
Furthermore, as this is not a statistical study or survey,
28
The results of the interviews have already been cha
racterized in Chapter I. In the first instance, the
active professors dwelt inadvertently but extensively
upon immediate preoccupations related to their responsi
bilities within the School of Education. None was able,
in the opinion of the interviewer and his advisers, to
maintain the detachment and objectivity so central to
historical perspective. In the second instance, the
interviews with emeriti suffered from a surfeit of per
sonal anecdotes and personal highlights recalled from a
lifetime of service to the School of Education. These
latter transcripts, warm and human as they were, in some
cases often deeply relevant to the study, nevertheless
could be of only extremely circumscribed pertinence as
primary sources.
Methodologically, the warnings of oral historians
now loomed large. In the course of his summary of the
current status of oral history, Rollins had enunciated
an austere position on its singular nature, contending
how many accepted or rejected the request for an inter
view does not seem germane and is not made a matter of
record.
29
that "mere recording is not oral history. We do not need
the spontaneous spouting of . . . Monday morning after
thoughts . . ." (p. 519). Gilb’s parallel remark that
oral history "should attempt to shed light on major
historical trends and significant human experiences and
should not make a fetish of the anecdotes of old men . .
. " (p. 337), which, at first reading, had seemed unpro-
fessionally brutal, now seemed only professionally inci
sive, if not altogether applicable.
A logical--but necessarily tentative--conelusion
was drawn that, given the writing of a history of the
School of Education of the University of Southern Cali
fornia, with all the ramifications of personality, tech
niques, and materials to be dealt with, the oral history
method could not serve satisfactorily as a principal
means of accumulating primary sources. In order ade
quately to support this conclusion, in addition to all
other evidence already reported, it would have to be
shown that McHargue’s dissertation was either exceptional
in some way or was flawed; for, otherwise, it still stood
as a model of methodology in institutional history.
The consequent meticulously close reading and schol-
30
arly critique of McHargue*s dissertation yielded salient
points bearing on the question of its viability as a model
for the present study. It was found that McHargue had be
come so engrossed in the interviews and surrounding pro
cedures of the oral history method that his work evolved
into an extensive and interesting treatise on the method,
on the one hand, and a conglomeration of sentimentality
and idle verbiage, on the other. Little of the massive
accumulation of conversations electronically recorded,
transcribed, edited, and deposited in the archives at
UCLA® could be worthy of inclusion in a doctoral disserta
tion if the excerpts McHargue included in his manuscript
are representative of the rest or, as should be the case,
are the best and most material of the lot.
In sum, McHargue's dissertation is somewhat deficient
in historical perspective, wanting in information material
to the history of a college, insufficient in scientific
analysis of the history it purported to study. But it is
®Dixon*s annotated bibliography of the oral history
holdings at UCLA states that "a series of twenty-four
one- and two-hour interviews constitutes the primary
source of information for Mr. McHargue's dissertation"
(1966, p. 19).
31
replete with "folksy" anecdotes and comfortable reminis
cences, an aspect that gives it an unexpectedly lively
flavor of people and times gone by and makes reading it
pleasant and even poignant. (The experience of pleasure
in reading is sorely missed in encounters with most doc
toral dissertations; its presence redeemed McHargue’s in
at least one reader’s eyes!)
To recapitulate, then, the following determinations
were made in the matter of methodology:
1. As defined in the literature, the oral history
method would be too confining and is too specialized to
serve as the primary source for an institutional history.
2. The critique of McHargue’s dissertation showed it
to be so seriously flawed as to be unacceptable for repli
cation in an institutional history.
3. Close reading of the interview transcripts for
the present dissertation revealed them to be of limited
utility, at best.
4. Experience with available primary sources for the
present dissertation showed many to be largely impersonal
documents.
Did these findings and conclusions mean that the pro-
32
ject would have to be abandoned as unfeasible? Not at
all.
In the first place, investigation of the oral his
tory method had been worthy in its own right. The dis
covery of the method's limitations should assist in ori
enting the candidate who might wish to replicate this or
McHargue's dissertation. The discovery also teaches that
while the oral history method appears to be ideal for
eliciting memoirs and for painstakingly preserving them,
the oral historian must see the interviews themselves as
the essence of his study and should not approach the
interviewees as subsidiary to a larger entity, especially
one, such as an educational institution, whose history
transcends the individuals who played a part in it. Rol
lins' definition of oral history corroborates these con
clusions, for he says that oral history "is the system
atic attempt to enlist significant people into recording
their memoirs while they are still able to do so effect
ively" (p. 518).
Furthermore, determination of the limited utility of
the interviews did not exclude them entirely from the
study. On the contrary, just as they stood, without
33
subjection to the rigors of the oral history method,
some were valid, relevant, and pertinent primary sources.
The point has already been amply demonstrated in this
dissertation by reference to the words of Professors Hull
and Thompson, respectively, and by reliance on their
ideas as guides to the form and content of the study.
Additionally, the impersonality of the primary
source documents could be counterbalanced by the personal
element in the interviews, imbuing the study with such
substance and tone as to forestall the effect of life
lessness in institutional history that Catherine Drinker
Bowen had so often found forbidding.
As for the scholarly and personal predilection for
primary sources, that could be satisfied in no small
measure by reliance on those interviews which were rele
vant and on the many valuable documents that were exam
ined. Nor would it be improper to supplement primary
sources with carefully selected secondary sources. In
deed, Hockett had urged doctoral candidates in history
to base their dissertations on "printed materials rather
than the collections of manuscripts or archival matter"
(p. 185) with the understanding that the sources he
34
recommended would in many cases be secondary.
A corollary argument supporting discretionary use of
secondary sources is that many gather and systematize
data of such scope and complexity that the data would
otherwise remain unknown to anyone not pursuing precisely
the same subject to substantially the same ends reached
by their authors. Such has been the case in the research
for the present study, with the dissertations (or theses,
as the case may be) of Auerbach (1957), Bundy (1968),
Florell (1946), Gates (1929), Hungerford (1967), Renetzky
(1967), and Walker (1953) being especially distinguished
in this way.
Procedures
No extensive, discrete delineation of procedures
appears in this chapter. To attempt to include that
kind of a procedural description would be untrue to the
real process. Earlier in this chapter (see Assumptions),
Hockett's paradigm is set forth as the basic methodology
of the present study. For the first step in the paradigm,
data-gathering, certain well-established methods were
stipulated as implicit; viz., access to or acquisition
35
of pertinent documents, and personal contacts. Types of
documents that might be pertinent and means by which per
sonal contacts might be effected were then listed. All
the various means actually put to use constitute the data-
gathering procedures.
Similarly, the second step of the paradigm, criticism
of the data, adhered to the all-encompassing principle of
historicity, to "doubt every statement until it has been
critically tested." Wherever applicable, the appropriate
test of internal or external criticism was administered.
These exercises of critical judgment of the validity,
relevance, and pertinence of the data and consequent acts
of retention or rejection constitute the critical pro
cedures .
But in neither case can procedures be outlined in
logical or chronological sequence. One procedure gener
ated and metamorphosed into another. A new finding might
reveal a previously discarded one as vital or a seemingly
salient one as immaterial. Throughout the research, pro
cedures swung back and forth from carefully planned, sys
tematic, categoric searches in archives, documents, files,
and catalogues to casual, ostensibly haphazard but intrin-
36
sically educated browsing among whichever places and
things intuition had led to.
It was initially disappointing to find that no dis
sertation referred to for methodological precedence spoke
of the processes in just this way. Of course, historical
dissertations characteristically omitted lengthy explica
tions of procedural considerations (except McHargue's),
Hungerford's and Florell's being good proximate examples.
Only the professionals, Bowen, Hockett, and Nevins, in
history, and A1tick, in literature, confessed to the ele
ment of art that underlies the scientific study of their
respective disciplines. The reader is, in fact, referred
enthusiastically to Altick's hearty and heartwarming guide
to literary research, in which he espouses the activities
described above, calling them the "scholarly vocation"
(1963, p.3).
Ideally, in scholarly writing, the text itself should
illuminate the procedures by which the data came to light
and were culled and organized into the work it has become.
In the present dissertation, many aspects of the processes
of historical research have already been demonstrated and
explained in some degree; others should manifest them-
37
selves in later pages, thus effectively satisfying the
demands of scholarship that the design and execution of
the study be set forth for possible replication by later
candidates. At least, this is the hope and the intent.
What may appear to be an exception to reliance upon
procedural "self-revelation" must be duly noted and ex
plained. The rather careful exposition of how the oral
history method came to be considered and rejected as the
study's primary source of data would seem to be the re
port of a procedure. But there the subject was a pivotal
decision about the design of the entire project--the very
focus of the dissertation--and was a methodological rather
than a procedural matter. Had the methodology been dif
ferent; that is, had the oral history method been accepted
as central, the entire character of the study would have
been altered. The fact of its consideration, the way in
which it was probed, and the subsequent judgment are
deemed significant in relation to the resultant design
and execution and in terms of replication and precedence,
and so they stand as a fitting contribution of this chap
ter ,
38
CHAPTER III
REVIEW OF RELATED LITERATURE
On the Order of Chapters
Scholarly tradition holds that the second chapter of
a doctoral dissertation should be a review of related
literature and the third a delineation of design and
methodology. Thus, in the ordering of chapters, this dis
sertation is unorthodox. On the other hand, as noted
earlier, Borg contends that a work in the history of edu
cation does not require a separate review of the liter
ature. Among other extenuations, since the data of hist
ory are found in the literature, a review unfolds natur
ally in the text itself whenever sources are cited, evalu
ated, and placed in perspective.
Borg's guidance has not been heeded in the plan of
this part of the study, for the very nature of the under
taking has imposed its own order. It has been necessary
for certain fundamental considerations regarding the
literature to be preempted by the chapter preceding this
39
one. In arriving at certain conclusions regarding assump
tions, methodology, and procedures, processes ordinarily
related to a review of the literature were used and docu
mented in Chapter II; these processes explored sources on
the oral history method, scrutinized a possible precedent
in methodology, weighed the distinction between primary
and secondary sources and how they apply to the present
work, adopted external and internal criticism, and made
other pertinent determinations as set forth more amply in
that chapter. But they did not provide a review of the
literature actually referred to in the writing of this
history.
Borg notwithstanding, it does not seem satisfactory
simply to allow the many books, articles, and documents
that have served as the resources for the history to sur
face haphazardly as the history is told, thereafter to be
listed, sans annotation or significant system, in the bib
liography in alphabetical order. Even if less comprehen
sive than its counterparts in other studies, a chapter
reviewing related literature does have an important place
here. More specifically, certain frameworks are implicit
in the classification of sources in Chapter II; as these
40
frameworks have been utilized in writing the dissertation,
so they may be demonstrated operationally in this chapter.
Categories of Related Literature
To be even more explicit, this chapter lists three
categories of related literature, designates which items
belong in which categories, makes some observations about
the items, and then moves on.
The three categories are as follows:
1. Primary sources that are immediately material,
relevant, and pertinent to the history of the School of
Education.
2. Secondary sources which are more or less material,
relevant, and pertinent to the history.
3. Secondary sources, such as historical and theoret
ical studies, which complement or broadly parallel the
history without being directly material to it.
Primary Sources
Several primary documentary sources exist which are
deeply relevant as well as material to the history of the
School of Education.
Foremost of these are the Bulletins of the School of
41
Education issued biennially since September 1918 and kept
in bound volumes in the office of the Dean as well as in
the University libraries. From the beginning, the Bul
letins of the School of Education have been separate
numbers of a larger series of bulletins published regu
larly by the University whose purpose has been to dis
seminate definitive information about the programs,
policies, divisions, and operations of the University.
The first University of Southern California Bulletin
subtitled "School of Education Announcement" is Volume
XIII, Number 4, for 1918-1919, dated September 1918, and
carries the legend, "Published Bi-monthly by the Univer
sity" (p. 1). By 1950, the Bulletin for 1950-1952, dated
June 1, 1950, was Volume 45, Number 8. Now published
"semi-monthly," it carried the following note of expla
nation :
Bulletin of the University of Southern California
is the title of the series of bulletins describing
the organization of the University and the programs
and requirements of the various schools and colleges
(inside front cover).
The Bulletins contain provisions which are the result
of decisions made by the highest authority of the Univer
sity, from the Board of Trustees in matters of broad
42
policy, to the President and his staff in administrative
matters, to appropriate faculty groups in academic af
fairs, and to student groups in matters falling within
their jurisdiction either as a matter of custom or through
delegation.^ As such, the Bulletins are impersonal and
highly technical documents. But they are deeply relevant
to the life of the University, They are, first of all,
the University’s contract with its students insofar as
both institution and student are bound by their provi
sions. Furthermore, implementations of the provisions
they contain add up to the day-to-day operation of the
University. From the historian's point of view, they are
particularly instructive historical documents because,
besides being immediately material, they record changes
from year to year in courses, curricula, costs, require
ments, services, and faculty, among others. These changes
which the continuity of the Bulletins reflects occurred
^Without elaboration (and without joining the debate
over "student power"), the point is here made that the
student body has long possessed some decision-making pow
er at the University, admittedly severely circumscribed
by tradition and practice, as has been the case univers
ally in American higher education.
43
as the institution sensed and responded to the social,
political, economic, and educational forces of the times
as well as to the purely biological factors of human
frailty, aging, and mortality that are constantly at
work. Read through the lens of scholarship, they spell
the trends of history.
Another distinct number within the Bulletin series
was the "Yearbook," which started before the establish
ment of the School of Education as a sort of general
catalogue of the University and then was renamed in 1925
as the "Register," continuing intermittently under the
latter name into the I960's. Like the "Yearbooks," the
"Registers" were more comprehensive than the "Announce
ments" of the individual schools and colleges, but served
the special purpose of presenting a survey of the Uni
versity "for high school, college, university, and govern
ment officials and libraries" (Bulletin, 45, 8 [June 1,
1950], inside front cover), and carried comparable author
ity. For anyone interested in studying the School of Edu
cation, they lacked the details of its organization and
operation, but they supplied an authoritative overview
of University interrelationships. Thus, for example.
44
the "Yearbooks" include the Department of Education within
the College of Liberal Arts after the establishment of
the School of Education but before the conferment of full
professional status and separation, indicating its sub
ordination to the College of Liberal Arts.
Another primary source of central importance to this
work is the set of minutes of the faculty meetings of the
School of Education. These have been preserved with
painstaking care, bound in volumes, and stored in the
office of the Dean. No evidence has been found to deter
mine the date of the first such meeting, but evidence
that meetings did occur before the one whose minutes be
gin the collection has been found and is discussed in an
other context in Chapter IV. The collected minutes begin
with those of September 19, 1923, continue uninterrupted
in chronological order until the present, are supplemented
by available memoranda and other pertinent documents in
serted as far as possible according to correct chronology,
and are paginated.
Little need be said about the materiality of the
minutes to this dissertation. True, there are omissions
and exasperating gaps. Too often, they record trivia.
45
On the whole, they are quite impersonal. But what they
contain--records of those attending, lists of degree
candidates, summaries of discussions, recommendations,
resolutions, votes, and promises of meetings, events and
policies yet to come--complement the Bulletins to produce
a richly revealing pair of primary sources,
A final primary source that has been used in this
study is the set of minutes of the University's Council
on Teacher Education. The Council was formed later in
the period covered by the present history for reasons
that will be explained later. Like the minutes of the
School of Education, those of the Council on Teacher Edu
cation have been bound and stored in the office of the
Dean. They begin with the first meeting on September 23,
1943, and continue thereafter until April 1951, when the
collection ends--despite evidence that the Council con
tinued to meet after that date (Faculty Minutes, Sep
tember 15, 1951, p. 775).
2
For reasons developed in their lengthy discussion in
Chapter II, those fragments of the interviews that are re
referred to in the text, while basically of a primary na
ture, have not been offered as a unified primary source.
46
The value of the minutes of the Council on Teacher
Education resides principally in their revelation of the
interest and involvement of the entire University com
munity in matters affecting teacher education. They
reveal the variety of disagreements long prevalent between
liberal arts professors and education professors; the
cooperation that can be effected through communication
and consultation between parties who differ in background
and orientation; and, again, the nature of the inter
relationships between the School of Education and other
segments of the University family.
Related Secondary Sources
In historical research, primary sources are . . .
defined as those documents in which the indi
vidual observing the event being described was
present. Secondary sources are those in which
the person describing the event was not present
but has obtained his description from someone
else. . . . Occasionally, the number of times
that the writing is removed from the observer
is indicated, but generally all levels of re
moval are lumped together as secondary sources
(Borg, p. 191).
From the foregoing quotation, it should be evident
that secondary sources range in degree of reliability
from undependable word-of-mouth passing of information
47
by "someone who heard it from someone who said he was
there" to exact restatements by historians or other
scholars of the verified records of primary sources.
Most of the works referred to herein lean to the
latter extreme. In fact, some hover between being pri
mary and secondary sources. This is true of them because
their writers, although modestly assuming the posture of
secondary sources, were in many cases participants in
or eyewitnesses to the events described. Such sources
are consequently highly relevant and even material to
this study.
Such has been the case with the respective histories
of ftÆ'University by Leslie F. Gay, Jr. (1910) and Samuel
Eugene Gates (1929). Both men wrote annotated theses
along customary scholarly lines. Both also set down
descriptions and commentaries without documentation which
apparently went uncontested by their committees because
the professors knew, without benefit of annotation, that
the writers spoke in those instances from firsthand
knowledge.
Four other ostensible secondary sources occasionally
manifest qualities which would place them among the
48
primary sources. These are The First Half-Century by
Rockwell D. Hunt (1930); A Sketch of the Development of
Graduate Work in the University of Southern California by
Allison Gaw (1935); Cardinal and Gold, edited by W. Bal-
lentine Henley and Arthur E. Neelley (1939); and Merritt
M. Thompson's unpublished manuscript (n.d.). To anyone
having even a nodding acquaintance with the history of
the University, the names of the writers should be fam
iliar since each, in his way, was at one time or another
a known personage on the campus. Readers unfamiliar with
the history and the names will encounter in the course of
these pages those among them who had some part in shaping
the history of the School of Education.
Two highly interesting secondary sources having
qualities of primary sources for reasons other than those
specified for the works of Gay, Gates, Hunt, Gaw, Henley
and Neelley, and Thompson, are Margarette Wible Walker's
and Curtiss Hungerford's respective doctoral disserta
tions .
Walker's study is an analysis of the doctoral pro
gram in Education at the University of Southern Calif
ornia (1953). In it are recorded "quasi" case studies
49
of doctoral candidates based upon their personal files,
and a followup study based upon a questionnaire. All
graduate students who took the comprehensive examinations
for admission to the doctoral program in Education between
1945 and 1953 were included in the study, placing its fo
cus well within its temporal delimitations. A salient
fact is that Walker was herself a doctoral candidate dur
ing that period she subjected to study.
Evidence supports the inference that comments she
elicited from her subjects often reflected her own reac
tions to being a doctoral candidate. Her questionnaires
were heavily weighted with negative response alternatives
(pp. 329, 330). Moreover, her bias showed in her failure
to evaluate responses from unsuccessful aspirants on
empirical grounds or, at least, to suggest that their
validity was questionable in view of the possible intru
sion of personal pique or a "sour grapes" attitude. So,
for example, she inscribed without qualification a remark
that the comprehensive examinations were "designed for
use courses, and held to the point of view of the pro
fessors" (p. 220). This has long been a notion bandied
about among doctoral candidates, sometimes in jest.
50
sometimes in honest seriousness, oftimes as a rational
ization for trepidation. Walker did not scrutinize it;
had she done so, she might have suggested that its valid
ity could be tested by item analysis comparisons of paral
lel examinations at other institutions. If she seems un
wittingly to have prejudged this and other comments, it
may be because she heard them firsthand in casual conver
sation or even entertained them herself.
Curiously, this seeming surrender to subjectivity
imbues Walker's work with qualities of a primary source,
revealing the thoughts and reactions of one doctoral can
didate and, we may cautiously infer, reflecting those of
her peers with a modicum of reliability.
In another vein. Walker's study has further value
for our history. She implies quite undisguisedly that
her inquiry was commissioned by Dr. Elmer E. Wagner, then
Assistant Dean of the School of Education and her com
mittee chairman, in order to secure a basis for improving
the doctoral program (p. 329). We have no reason to doubt
her. It is a matter of record that subsequent modifica
tions of the program followed her recommendations rather
closely, either through conscious intent or coincidence
51
(cf. pp. 249-295 of her dissertation and current prac
tices in the School of Education), These acts of imple
mentation postdate our history. But, in retrospect,
circumstantial evidence points to a prevalent concern
among faculty and administration of the School of Educa
tion about the nature and form of the doctoral program,
probably for some years prior to 1953.
Finally, because of the nature of her study, in order
to define some meaningful types of doctoral students and
to make comparisons among them. Walker tabulated data
which would never have been preserved otherwise. One
such unique tabulation is of the "Veteran Status of Doc
toral Candidates for the Years 1945-1948" (p. 130), which,
while not profoundly material to this history, neverthe
less merits a researcher's examination and citation.
Hungerford's dissertation (1967) on the administra
tive leadership of Dr. Rufus B. von KleinSmid during the
years of his Presidency of the University of Southern
California, 1921-1935, achieves the firsthand quality in
rather a different way. Hungerford was appointed Assist
ant Dean of University College and the Summer Session in
1962, long after the date that ends this study. His
52
affiliation with the University began in 1952, barely
within our historical period, and was interrupted by a
five-year stint at Los Angeles State College. Nor did he
become a graduate student in the School of Education un
til 1961. Therefore, in sum, his personal tie to the
School of Education is only incidental.
However, in his dissertation, Hungerford draws upon
firsthand knowledge of his subject, acquired mainly dur
ing the years 1952 to 1956, when he lived in Dr. von
KleinSmid's home "to assist him in the production of his
weekly local television panel program on world affairs
and to be his general companion and aide" and received
"room, board, tuition, and incidental expenses" for his
services (Hungerford, p. 306). We shall see that Dr. von
KleinSmid's active intervention in the affairs of the
School of Education was limited to that of a friendly
overseer and holder of the pursestrings. But his pre
sence at the University in its highest administrative
position, his personality and style, and his policy-mak
ing and personnel-selecting powers were intrinsically
related to the development and direction of the School of
Education. Therefore, Hungerford's firsthand insights
53
into the character of his subject as well as the findings
of his opinion survey do enhance our understanding of the
history of the School of Education.
Besides the secondary sources reviewed above that
possess characteristics of primary sources, other valu
able secondary sources have been relied upon. Many have
provided only an occasional item and do not warrant being
reviewed; they are cited in the usual manner when refer
red to and listed in the bibliography. Others, which
have proved to be especially germane to a particular era
or issue or, as in the case of periodicals, have been con
sistently rich resources, are reviewed in this chapter.
Of all the secondary sources falling into the latter
category, alumni publications have probably been most
useful. The principal medium of communication between
the University and the alumni, and of singular value to
this study, is a general alumni periodical inaugurated in
June 1917 by what was then the "Publications Committee of
the University Alumni Associations.** At the outset, this
periodical was called the Alumni Magazine; by 1923, it
was the Alumni News ; by 1924, it had changed format and
title to the Illustrated News; finally, in 1925, it became
54
the Alumni Review, with an attractively balanced format
and a name that would serve it through the years to 195 3
and, thereafter, until the very recent past. Whatever
its name or format, this periodical has been consistently
and dependably informative.
More explicitly, its contents seem usually to have
been written with care. Reading it conveys the impres
sion that it was written with unhurried attention to fact
ual accuracy--however far from the reality of production
under deadline conditions that impression may be. In
those sections reporting University policies, programs,
and matters of scholarship, it projects maturity of obser
vation and interest in and concern for the welfare of the
University. Its frequent exuberance and frivolity and
its occasional intemperance were reserved for the sec
tions on sports or for the friendly rivalries with other
colleges. Thus, when a newsworthy event occurred or a
new program was initiated, the person or persons most
closely associated with the item were asked personally to
write the feature article or, at least, to be interviewed
by one of the editorial staff. So, in practice, the gen
eral alumni magazine seems to have done its own quite
55
serious reporting and not merely to have reprinted what
had been published elsewhere, such as in the Daily Trojan.
To cite the example of one issue at random, in the Alumni
News of March 192 3 appear articles by Miss Katie L. Hum-
richouse, Secretary of the Summer Session, on the Summer
Session; by Mrs. Allison Gaw (£.y.), Publicity Chairman
of the Woman's [sic] Building Fund Committee, on its ac
complishments; and so on in similar vein on other subjects
advanced by other specialists. Furthermore, nowhere else
has there been found as comprehensive and as carefully
attended reportage of vital statistics ranging from mar
riages, births, and other pleasantries of alumni life, to
additions to the faculty, biographies of such personages,
tributes to retirees, and the sad but inevitable and
essential necrologies of alumni and faculty.
Possibly of equal importance as a repository of hist
orical items has been the student body newspaper. Its
long and complex history will not be recounted here. It
is to be noted, however, that, like the alumni magazine,
its name changed several times during the early years
until the appellation "Trojans" took hold for the Univer
sity's students. Then the name of the newspaper evolved
56
into the Daily Trojan.^ A hiatus in the publication of
the newspaper has affected the documentation of the pre
sent study and must be noted; it occurred from June 1918
to February 1919, inclusive, covering the very time that
the School of Education was founded and began its opera
tion. After the interruption occasioned by the events of
World War I, the Southern California Trojan resumed pub
lication in March 1919, to be joined by its short-lived
"underground" version, the Yellow Dog, in April 1919
(Trojan, X, 27 [June 3, 1919j, p. 1).
The Daily Trojan has proved to be a fund of informa
tion. Admittedly, its coverage has often been less than
full and its stories less than precise. But the fact of
its frequent publication--daily, as its title says, for
so many years, with periodic special numbers interspersed
--has resulted in a profusion of helpful material.
In order best to use the Daily Trojan as a research
tool, two procedures have been necessary. One is the
basic if sometimes tedious process of turning pages.
"3
Gates places the appearance of the name "Trojan" in
1912; see his thesis for full documentation (p. 31).
57
scanning columns, locating obviously pertinent items, and
isolating them from the mass of newsprint. The other pro
cess, perhaps even more time-consuming, but more provoca
tive, is only triggered by "teasers" spotted in the Daily
Trojan. Items which must have seemed to the student edit
ors of the times to be rather dull "fillers" which they
dutifully inserted, have, in instances too numerous and
too convoluted to exemplify appropriately, led to further
delving elsewhere and to important discoveries of fact,
to clarification of vague apprehensions of historical
data, or to the strengthening or demolition of dubiously
drawn inferences.
Other Relevant Secondary Sources
Borg notwithstanding, considerable effort has been
expended in the attempt to find histories of educational
institutions which might provide some precedent in design,
methodology, and procedure. It quickly became apparent
that the extant histories of institutions of higher educa
tion are so numerous that they make up a body of litera
ture in their own right. Examination of many of these
works, including but not limited to the theses of Gay and
58
Gates, Morison's classic Three Centures of Harvard
(19 36), and Bishop's recent A History of Cornell (1962)
revealed their treatment of constituent schools of educa
tion or teachers colleges to be brief and even perfunct
ory accounts centered, as expected, on the place of the
smaller entity in the history of the larger institution.^
Overall, of those consulted, no single work in educa
tional history contained a pattern or format which could
be strictly adhered to, although the techniques of this
study have been employed to good advantage by other re
searchers in other combinations. In any case, method
ology and procedures have been fully explained and sup
ported in Chapter II as not dependent upon related liter
ature for precedent.
However, the search did turn up a number of sources
which are immaterial to the affairs of the School of Edu
cation of the University of Southern California but are
nevertheless relevant to its history. Of these, four
related ones will be reviewed first, according to their
^McHargue's history, rejected as a model for methodo
logical replication, dealt with a junior college and
therefore offered no comparable content.
59
subject. The four--two books and a dissertation published
by university presses and one unpublished dissertation--
like the present work, all deal exclusively with the
history of one or more university schools of education or
their equivalent. They are James Earl Russell's Founding
Teachers College: Reminiscences of the Dean Emeritus
(1937); A History of Teachers College, Columbia University
by Cremin, Shannon, and Townsend (1954); "Origin and
History of the School of Education, University of Calif
ornia, Los Angeles," by David Martin Florell (1946), and
An Inquiry Into the General Purposes, Functions, and
Organization of Selected University Schools of Education
With Special Reference to Certain Aspects of Their Growth
and Development by Timothy F. O'Leary (1941).
Of all the works consulted in the search for back
ground for the present study, Russell's is the most
refreshing. The title sets forth the content ; a Dean
Emeritus of Teachers College, Columbia University, remin
isces and muses about his thirty years at his post in a
series of lectures collected and published in this slim
but potent volume. Russell recalls that he came from the
University of Colorado to Teachers College in 1897, when
60
the latter was a private, unaffiliated normal school of
Christian persuasion (p. 10). The College was also sus
taining an immense deficit for the times, $80,000 per
year, or as much as the total budget of the University of
Colorado (p. 25). Furthermore, the College had been
offered to Columbia University by its Board of Trustees
five years earlier, "only to have the proposal rejected
by the University Council on the grounds that 'there is
no such subject as Education and moreover it would bring
into the University women who are not wanted'" (p. 26).
But Russell had had a dream of a professional school of
university rank, and a series of circumstances catapulted
him into the position of first dean of such a school
(pp. 25-28).
The book continues in similar vein in the lectures
and two letters inserted as appendices. Most relevant to
the present study is the aspect of this book which reveals
the thought and character of a man who for many years
shaped American educational philosophy as much as did any
other educator in the nation (Cremin et al., p. 39). His
remembrances of Teachers College are merely a vehicle for
statements of an educational philosophy which had taken
61
shape while he grappled with the emergent problems of
teacher education in an era of new and burgeoning free
public education systems. The book is unmistakably not
the work of a cautious conformist or of a pious author
itarian. On the contrary, it proves that from Dean James
Earl Russell of Teachers College emanated a "democratic
concept of education embracing every aspect of human
life"; a view of education as a "social force"; and a
spirit of revolt against the "formalism, rigidity, and
discipline of the 'old education'" (Cremin et al., p. 39).
In so doing, it enhances our understanding of the vitality
of thought which infused American eduation during a
sizable temporal segment of our study.
The book abounds with characteristic quotables. The
following selection should convey a sense of the man and
of his style.
System, faculties, moral questions, manual train
ing-- significant words that presage the inevitable
clash between old and new ideas. Method and dis
cipline become problems to be reckoned with.
Method, a way of doing things, especially when
supported by public opinion and practical experi
ence, is even more tenacious of its grip than
belief in ideals. Ideas change but in implement
ing them one has only old methods to use. Dis
cipline as an objective engenders habits character
istic of the trained animal, the obedient soldier.
62
and the docile subject of an autocratic govern
ment. It tends to efficiency in action and cert
ainty of results, but it makes no discrimination
in ends worthy of attainment; it confounds a
legitimate means of instruction with desirable
aims of education in a democratic society
(Russell, p. 11).
The subject of the second work in this group of rele
vant secondary sources is the same as that of the first:
Teachers College, Columbia University. But whereas Dean
Russell's account is a brief and intensely personal one,
A History of Teachers College, Columbia University is a
definitive work of institutional history, meticulously
researched in unhampered access to primary sources and
richly documented, written by a team of scholars steeped
in the craft and calling of historiography who possessed
significant if less intimate firsthand knowledge of the
institution than Dean Russell's. When they wrote the
book, the three co-authors were all Columbia University
professors; two, Mary Evelyn Townsend and David A. Shan
non, were academic historians ; the third, Lawrence A.
Cremin, was and is "one of the nation's most learned edu
cational historians" (DeYoung and Wynn, 1968, p. 72).^
^Among his long list of credits, two works are predom-
63
In their preface, the authors assert that "[t]he
history of Teachers College . . . is the history of Ameri
can education writ small" (p. v). If that assessment is
as accurate as it seems to be, then, relative to our spe
cial focus, as Teachers College "was in the forefront of
every movement, issue, and conflict in American education"
(p. v), so it fought the fights its less secure, less
prestigious, and less financially and structurally stable
sister institutions could not afford to join, and allowed
the others to devote their energies to normal functioning
and to confronting the bread-and-butter problems of sur
vival, while the great ideological wars of American edu
cation waged in and around "TC.
Accordingly, as told by Cremin, Shannon, and Town-
inant in placing Cremin in the first rank of American
educational historians; A History of Education in American
Culture (1953), co-authored with R. Freeman Butts, and the
more recent The Genius of American Education (1965). Both
are valuable generic background books for the would-be
educational historian.
^This is not to imply that other institutions were
immune from such controversy; see in this regard the
studies of other university teacher education centers:
Eurich (1931), Florell (1946), and O'Leary (1941), as well
as Auerbach's eye-opening documentation of interdisciplin
ary rivalries affecting them (1957).
64
send, the history of Teachers College is a history of
ideas. Certainly, the book sets forth the facts of finan
ces, facilities, faculty, enrollment, curricula, and
operational structure and functions. But it does so in
the view that the day-to-day affairs of the College con
cretized the ideas underlying them. Thus, to cite an
example of scholarly inference that is more or less con
sistent with the traditional conception of the nature of
educational history, Cremin et al. held that in creating
and offering a course in the foundations of education,
Education 200F, "covering such diverse issues as nation
alism, technology . . . cultural determinism . . . learn
ing, religion, and vocation" (p. 152), the College showed
symptoms of deepseated differences among factions of the
faculty who, in turn, represented polarizations of opinion
in society at large. But, farther afield, in an area that
might be seen by other historians as outside the scope of
educational history, is the account of the "strike of
Manuel Romero" (p. 148). This incident of alleged dis
criminatory action against College cafeteria workers
engaged in union organizing plus the repercussions of the
incident Cremin et al. adjudged as having been related to
65
questions of "democratic administration" (p. 167) and of
"the role of teacher unionism in American schools general
ly and in Teachers College particularly" (p. 168), as well
as to the larger question posed by Professor Counts: "Does
the school build a new social order?" (p. 148).
In many respects, the history of Teachers College
presages contemporary events; for, not unlike today’s
colleges and universities, during the 1930's. Teachers
College "was news" because the "very freedom" which had
made it the "foremost teacher education institution in
this nation . . . allowed its internal controversies to
find their way to the public ear" (p. 171). Dean William
F. Russell, son of Dean James Earl Russell and his suc
cessor, deemed it his responsibility in 1938 to speak out
on the subject, "How to Tell a Communist and How to Beat
Him." In the same year, James Wechsler, today editor of
the New York Post but then a staff writer for the Nation,
wrote a "stinging commentary on the downfall of Teachers
College," which he called "Twilight at Teachers College";
his argument was subsequently dismantled by Professor
Counts, who was usually Wechsler*s ideological ally, in a
point by point rebuttal which asked the question, "Whose
66
Twilight?" published in Social Frontier (all as cited in
Cremin et al., pp. 130-131 and 171-175, passim).
As to the brilliant and controversial faculty whom
both RusselIs gathered around them, many are legendary
figures in the annals of American education. Those of
national prominence alone would occupy a long list; men
tion of a few should suffice. There were Edward Lee
Thorndike, whose unique and prolific career in educational
psychology spanned forty years at Teachers College; Wil
liam Heard Kilpatrick, disciple of John Dewey (also a TC
professor by virtue of his Columbia University professor
ship), who carried Dewey's ideas to an extreme in the"pro
gressive education" movement and was himself long a center
of dispute both professionally and philosophically; Isaac
L. Kandel, vigorous leader and staunch spokesman for con
servatism in education; George Drayton Strayer, builder
of an empire of school administration and of school admin
istrators (Weersing, 1969, as well as Cremin et al. as
cited below); and George S. Counts, perhaps the College's
preeminent intellect of more recent times, prime mover
and advocate of the philosophy that the schools must be
the vanguard of social reconstruction (Cremin et al.,
67
pp. 41-58 and 244-256, passim).
A singularly apt characterization of this conglomera
tion of headstrong and disparate scholars, of whom the
few listed above are only partially representative, was
voiced by an unnamed New York Times writer when he called
the Teachers College faculty "one big unhappy family, in
the best sense of the word" (as quoted in Cremin et al,,
p. 247), Despite living up to that description. Teachers
College stood subject to a curious criticism. In effect,
it was accused of being a sort of educational "Typhoid
Mary," at once carrier and transmitter of an "intellectual
disease to which colleges and universities are peculiarly
susceptible . . . the 'one-idea' plague. Its most dread
ful symptom is a paralyzing similarity of language,
thought, and action throughout an institution" (Cremin
et al., p. 247; see also Schrag, 1967). So widespread
was this impression of the condition of Teachers College
that Dean William Russell felt compelled to come forth
rightly to its defense; he argued that Teachers College
"had no point of view and no institutional philosophy.
It took no single position, made no unanimous recommenda
tions, issued no statement with which everyone agreed"
68
(Cremin et al., p. 247).
Thus, intellectual conflict at Teachers College
existed with administrative blessing and en
couragement; in fact, the Dean himself often
entered vigorously into the fray. Moreover, the
conflicts were concerned with real issues, for
the needs of American teachers and schools pressed
too hard and too persistently to allow for either
pedantry or quackery (p. 348).
By way of preliminary summary, suffice it to say that
both books--Russell's reminiscences and Cremin, Shannon,
and Townsend's history of Teachers College--proved richly
rewarding resources in orienting the present writer to
the task of preparing a history of the School of Education
of the University of Southern California. So much, for
the moment, for Teachers College, Columbia University.
To move on now to the doctoral dissertation of David
Martin Florell: "Origin and History of the School of Edu
cation, University of California, Los Angeles" (1946),
finally to ferret Florell's work out from among the files
of dissertations had been exhilarating. The results of a
Datrix^ search had been negative, yet here was a disserta
tion which paralleled the present one. The very title
^A Datrix printout reported no dissertations on the
history of a university-affiliated school of education or
69
promised precedent and replicable methodology and format.
More importantly, it seemed fortuitous indeed that the
only doctoral study on the history of a single university
school of education turned up by a multidirectional search
should be of the institution across town, for the physical
proximity of the two institutions and the overlapping time
spans of the two studies intimated direct materiality of
the earlier study to the work in progress.
In this and other respects, Florell disappoints. He
mentions methodology briefly in his introduction in a most
general way.® He treats related literature not at all.
He traces by way of background to his subject at inordi-
teachers college among those recent enough to have been
routinely committed to microfilm (1955- ).
Doctoral candidates should note that for a small fee,
Datrix will perform a computer search of all dissertation
titles in the files of University Microfilm, Inc., Ann
Arbor, Michigan. The search is based upon key words sel
ected by the interrogator from a systematized list to
which the computer is programed.
Q
His succinctly worded statement, of but little help
to the would-be historian of an educational institution,
reads as follows; "In this study of the origin and his
tory of the School of Education, University of California,
Los Angeles, the procedures of historiography have been
followed as far as possible. The topical-chronological
type of organization has been employed to facilitate the
study of specific phases of development" (p. ii).
70
nate length the history of normal schools, covering
aspects often irrelevant and more properly within the
purview of a work dedicated to that portion of the history
of American education, a job well done by Harper (1939) at
the national level and by Merlino (1962) for California.
He draws a few conclusions of such little consequence that
he includes them in his separate two-page abstract but not
in the dissertation itself. He neglects almost entirely
his purported subject, the history of the School of Educa
tion of the University of California, Los Angeles, for
reasons akin to those which sabotaged the work of McHargue,
As we have seen, McHargue became entangled in the oral
history method to the detriment of his history; Florell's
preoccupation is with the infighting which preceded the
founding of the School. Thus, what history he does write
is concentrated almost exclusively on the evolution of the
state normal school to the later institution; on the op
position to the School's inception by the President of
the University of California, W.W. Campbell, and other
powerful figures in the University; on the conflict be
tween those who would have had the teachers college remain
on Vermont Avenue when the main Los Angeles campus opened
71
in Westwood and those who would not; and, at the last,
on how the proponents of integration of the teachers col
lege into the mainstream of university life ultimately
prevailed (pp. 73-223, passim).
Nevertheless, Florell merits a place in the review
of related literature. In conception, if not in execu
tion, his dissertation parallels this one and may neither
be ignored nor relegated to chance mention and appearance
in the bibliography. While it offers neither consequen
tial precedent nor replicable models of methodology, it
is another example of how a fixation on one aspect may
turn an institutional history from its avowed purpose.
Considered more positively, Florell is valuable because
he portrays the climate of opposition to schools of edu
cation which existed in California generally and in South
ern California particularly during the early years of the
existence of the School of Education of the University of
Southern California, which predates that of the University
of California at Los Angeles. In this respect, he sup
plements the insights provided by O'Leary and Auerbach,
respectively, more of whom shortly.
It is no coincidence then, that the penultimate of
72
this group of four books on the history of university
schools of education is a 1941 Catholic University of
America doctoral dissertation by Timothy F. O'Leary. So
obviously excellent was the work that the Catholic Univer
sity saw fit to copyright and publish it in 1943. The
published version contains the signs of its scholarly
origins, from the classic statement, "Submitted in partial
fulfillment of . . . etc." to the indispensible "Nihil
Obstat" of the chairman of his doctoral committee, the
Reverend Doctor George Johnson (pp. ii-iv).
Father O'Leary's intent was to research "the general
purposes, functions, and organization' of six "selected
university schools of education, with special reference to
certain aspects of their growth and development" in order
to investigate "certain changing concepts underlying the
growth and development of the broader purposes and func
tions basic to the university study of education"; to note
"the impact of powerful social, economic, psychological,
and scientific movements contributing to the university
study of education"; and "to examine certain basic needs
affecting the emphasis given by both academic and profes
sional leaders" to such matters as, generally, the training
73
of teachers and other "professional staff personnel" and
more particularly, training in "research methods and tech
niques applicable to school problems" (pp. x-xii, passim).
the six university schools of education he selected for
the investigation were the Graduate School of Education,
Harvard University; Teachers College, Columbia University ;
the School of Education, University of Michigan; the Col
lege of Education, University of Iowa; the School of Edu
cation, Stanford University ; and the School of Education,
University of California at Berkeley.
Opening the dissertation is a chapter which sets
forth "Some Conditioning Factors Influencing the Growth
of Education as a University Subject" (pp. 1-33). There
in, O'Leary prepares the ground for digging into indivi
dual schools in later chapters by delineating the "major
forces" which "conditioned the origins" both of the uni
versity schools of education he studied and of those he
did not. He takes his reader step by step from the ger
minal stages of university teacher education, showing
first how it was influenced by "the democratic ideal [of]
improvement of American education"; how the Middle Western
universities' early chairs in pedagogy (n. b.) and didact
74
ics evolved into departments of education; how "a growing
body of knowledge" influenced the development of teacher
preparation (making mention in the course of this discus
sion of the trend toward the scientific study of education
as advanced by such figures as Froebel, Pestalozzi, and
Herbert); how state certification of teachers and accredi
tation of secondary schools affected university study of
education; and how the universities responded to "the
demand for graduate work in teacher education" (pp. 1-33,
passim). Interspersed in the chapter are attentions to
such fundamental problems as the lack of opportunity for
practice teaching in nascent teacher education programs
(p. 29) and the confusion in public school organization
and administration which university education faculties
have almost from the beginning attempted to alleviate with
insights acquired from school surveys (p. 18). And for
each major force he outlines or problem he presents,
O'Leary provides as a footnote to his discussion, an ex
haustive annotated bibliography for the reader who would
delve further into the matter (see pp. 4-5, 7, 18-19, 23,
26, 27-28, 30-31, and 31-32 for these bibliographic foot
notes) .
75
Always thorough but rarely verbose, scholarly but
never pedantic, O'Leary essays the study of each univers
ity school of education from the perspective and with the
aims which he had stipulated at the outset. Moreover, he
does not intrude broad generalizations into each study,
but allows the sought-after understandings to be furthered
in each instance by the emergent understanding of the in
dividual university school of education under scrutiny.
Each study is separate and distinct, yet all follow sim
ilar patterns. A few typical items drawn from the chapter
on the Graduate School of Education, Harvard University
should exemplify the technique.
In the chapter, the history of the School is traced
carefully both as to origin and development. We are shown
how the first offering in pedagogy was prepared by the
first professor at Harvard in this field, Paul H. Hanus,
and how misgivings among scholars were given expression by
the distinguished philosopher, Josiah Royce, as he spoke
of the "general scepticism" with which this "distinct in
tellectual curiosity" was regarded (p. 36). Controversy,
such as that over separation of the Department of Educa
tion from the Division of Philosophy and the conferment of
76
status as an independent Division of Education within the
Faculty of Arts and Science in 1906 (pp. 42-43), is
searched out and explained in its proper context. The
founding of the Graduate School of Education in 1920 with
Henry W. Holmes as Dean is traced and its implications
explored. Comings and goings are noted. New philosophies
of education that found expression and came to light are
given direct voice; of prime importance was that of
service as stated by Dean Holmes:
The ultimate justification for our existence is
the service we can render American education, and
that service is not likely to be effective unless
we attract to our instruction those who are act
ively engaged in the conduct of the schools
(Holmes, 1921, as quoted in O'Leary, p. 54).
The more comprehensive conception of graduate study which
took shape is outlined and Dean Holmes is allowed to
articulate its philosophic rationale, as follows: "[W]e
are constrained to put our strength first of all into the
training of those who deal with education as a whole and
at large and into the study of the fundamental general
problems in education" (Holmes, 1922, as quoted in
O'Leary, p. 57). That the graduate program was strength
ened qualitatively and the candidate for the Doctor of
77
Education degree came to be looked upon as a "scholar in
education" (p. 63) are duly reported. Noted near the last
are the impetus that the new President of the University,
James B. Conant gave to the famous "M. A. T.": Master of
Arts in Teaching degree and how it was initiated in 1936
"for the better preparation of secondary school teachers"
(p. 78).
In sum, the chapter is a compact history, as is each
of the six such chapters, done with scholarly balance and
perspective.
At the conclusion of all, certain modestly drawn,
occasionally tentative inferences and conclusions are
offered. The implications of prevalent trends are inter
preted, such as the greater differentiation between
courses for experienced and inexperienced teachers and
the acceleration and expansion of graduate study (pp. 411-
414, passim). The study concludes with a copious and
pertinent bibliography. All in all, O'Leary is a most
satisfying resource, indeed.
In a way, the next work commanding attention belongs
among the histories of university schools of education
which have Just been reviewed. The book is Education
78
in a Changing World, 1905-1930, edited by Alvin C. Eurich
(1931), consisting of a collection of papers prepared by
a group of eminent educators on the occasion of the
twenty-fifth anniversary of the College of Education of
the University of Minnesota. Into such a commemorative
volume a smattering of papers on the College of Education
itself inevitably filtered; these papers constitute a
significant final section (pp. 263-302) and could be
classed as institutional history. However, the other
essays in the collection overshadow the institutional
history and place the book among the aggregation of hist
orical works not centrally concerned with specific uni
versity schools of education.
The book is organized into five sections, each main
taining a different orientation toward "education in a
changing world." The first section takes a broad view of
world economic, political, psychological, and social prob
lems as they related to education (pp. 3-56). The second
addresses itself to common problems of university schools
of education (pp. 57-120). The third discusses trends in
public education in Minnesota from vocational programs to
university curricula (pp. 121-192). And the fourth
79
recalls the pioneering stages of Minnesota's public school
system (pp. 193-262). All five sections are relevant to
our interest in different ways and to varying degrees.
An illustration of the divergencies is the closing
essay of the opening section, "Forces behind Education in
Europe," by Paul Dengler, Director of the Austro-American
Institute in Vienna. Dengler exercises qualities that
set him apart from ordinary contributors to commemorative
volumes ; he does not engage in dimly defined generalities
but is at once perspicacious, concrete, and candid.
Writing in 19 30, he sounded a warning against the un
healthy forces abroad in Europe whose juxtaposition was
to bring disaster to the world. Dengler understood those
forces only too well and spelled them out graphically in
his own terms as traditionalism, taking the form mainly
of resistance to social mobility and to educational inno
vation and change; nationalism, expressing itself in dis
content and friction among nations ; and racism, existing
in Europe as "anti-Semitism ( which] divides the nations"
(p. 48). In each case, Dengler explains, antithetical
forces were in conflict with those which he believed to
be the overriding problems of the era. This is how he
80
put the situation in the concrete terms of school and
home :
Apply my general picture to education in a single
school or in the individual home, and you will
find a tragic situation. Go to a classroom in a
big city of Central Europe and listen. You will
find that the children of fourteen years of age
form the same political, social, and racial
groups that adults do, that there are youngsters
belonging to the conservative group who refuse
to speak to other youngsters belonging to the
socialistic group. They only help each other
against the common enemy--the teacher. Again
there are boys who will not speak to others be
cause they are Jews, and so on. This struggle
continues into the home, as 1 said before. Very
often father and mother differ in social and po
litical opinions. It also spreads to the press.
In fact, it permeates the whole of public life.
Everywhere there is hatred and open hostility
(Dengler, pp. 50-51).
How does Dengler's essay relate to the present study?
It works as an antidote--or, more precisely, as a vaccine
--against the "tunnel vision" of institutional history
which tends to see all events, even world catastrophes,
solely in terms of their effect on the institution. So
World War I's result became a dip in enrollment and the
end of World War II a massive influx of veterans. Dengler
widens his reader's vision by bringing to consciousness
matters which may have been repressed and to active recall
memories which had been extinguished by retroactive
81
inhibition and other unmotivated processes of forgetting.
Therefore, while pedestrian effects on the institution
are decidedly pertinent and must be reported, they are to
be perceived as well both as symptoms and stimulants of
more profound human dynamics.
Thus, Dengler ' s is one kind and degree of relevance.
Rather differently relevant is the section in Eurich
treating the College of Education. This section’s com
ponent papers cover many elements; one of interest in the
light of discussion is the list of successful Doctor of
Philosophy degree candidates in Education through 1930
(Eurich, pp. 287-302). Among other names on the list
appear those of B. LaMar Johnson (Eurich, p. 302), a
leader in the development and study of higher education
in California and the nation and to this day Professor of
Education at the University of California at Los Angeles;
Ernest 0. Melby, Northwestern University’s pioneer in
defining the role of the supervisor in public education
(Eurich, p. 298); Grayson N. Kefauver (Eurich, p. 297),
for a time Teachers College's specialist in secondary cur
riculum and then Dean of the School of Education at Stan
ford University (O'Leary, pp. 325 ) ; Alvin C. Eurich
82
(Eurich, p. 300), editor of the volume now in review and
one of the Minnesota products who joined Kefauver at
Stanford (O'Leary, p. 330); and, without benefit of bio
graphy at this point, the University of Southern Califor
nia School of Education's own Frederick J. Weersing (£.
V . ) (Eurich, p. 296).
Transcending the import of the names taken either
singly or collectively is the fact that a Midwestern state
university should count among its sparse crop of Ph. D.'s
in Education to 1930 men who would be dispersed throughout
the United States and would markedly affect the course of
education wherever they might be, as much, perhaps, by
the impact of their doctoral training--as manifested in
the implementation of their understandings and convic-
tions--as by their own undeniable personal and profes
sional excellence.
One could go on summarizing sections or chapters of
this volume, dwelling on its interesting content and ex
emplifying its divergencies and its relevance. One might,
for instance, wish to analyze the paper by the Dean of
the College of Education, Melvin E. Haggerty, on the sub
ject of "The University School of Education as Related to
83
Other Divisions of the University" (pp. 90-120) and come
to grips with his stipulation of its three purposes:
"education for teachers," "productive scholarship," and
"public service" (pp. 104-118, passim). But no appropri
ate function would be served by thus preempting these
topics and preventing their fuller discussion in the text
of the history as they may arise in accordance with the
larger design of the study. Taken as a unit, the fore
going examples, quotations, and explications should illus
trate that Eurich is a surprisingly up-to-date background
resource and an intriguing parallel history, thereby sat
isfying the immediate aim of the volume's review.
Attention may consequently be shifted to another
type of work contributing to an understanding of our sub
ject: the histories of related institutions, organiza
tions, and developments in California education during
all or part of the era under study. The first such work
is a history of the California State Normal Schools by
Maxine Merlino (1962).
Merlino's dissertation is interesting and valuable
in several respects. While sustaining a scholarly focus
on its subject, it carefully documents the background of
84
California public education and teacher training, both
relevant to our interest. It shows how California public
education developed from its origins in a combination of
English and Spanish influences (p. 9). It documents the
opening of the first public school in San Francisco in
1850 (p. 19). It credits the efforts of the first State
Superintendent of Public Instruction, John Swett, to
secure more humane and respectful treatment for teachers
as being instrumental in forwarding the movement for pro
per normal schools (pp. 20-23). Then, moving into its
own orbit, it traces the development of the normal school
movement in California from the inauguration in San Fran
cisco of the first of the normal schools in 1862 (p. 27)
through their rise and expansion (pp. 216-308) until they
became State Teachers Colleges by legislative enactment
in 1921 (p. 336).
Merlino’s history ends in 1921 and therefore does
not enter into the transition from the State Teachers
Colleges to California State Colleges. In acknowledging
this fact, she recommends that a history be prepared of
the period 1921 to 1935 to investigate "those changes
which caused them to evolve into California State
85
Colleges" (p. 351). The study she suggests would undoubt
edly be of value, but hers is more relevant to the present
work. It is relevant because the establishment and growth
of public teacher education institutions all over Califor
nia, from San Diego to Humboldt, helped determine the
posture of the University of Southern California School
of Education vis-a-vis the public institutions, the qual
ity and quantity of its teacher education programs, and
the direction taken in its departmental development and
curricular emphasis. As a background resource assisting
in the apprehension of this aspect of the history of the
School of Education, Merlino is more than adequate.
Two works taken together now claim attention. Writ
ten twelve years apart, they nevertheless complement each
other closely and were published as a set in 1955 by the
Los Angeles City School Districts "as resource material
for use in honoring the centennial anniversary of the
founding of the first public school in Los Angeles in
1855" (unnumbered first pages. Bates and Sargent, respect
ively). Both were originally master’s theses of the
School of Education of the University of Southern Califor
nia; the first, "A Study of the Development of Elementary
86
Education in Los Angeles City" by Elizabeth Bates (1928)
and the second, "The History of Secondary Education in the
City of Los Angeles" by Harry Sargent (1940).
The history of the School of Education is inextric
ably interwoven with that of the Los Angeles City Schools.
The interrelationships have been of two basic kinds:
those which are operational and based upon written or
tacit agreements, and those which result from the unar
ticulated needs of one organization for the cooperation
or service of the other. Nowhere in either study do de
tails of the working agreements between school board and
School of Education appear; they are too esoteric to be
included in overviews of elementary and secondary levels
of education in a school district. It is to the second
type of interrelationships that Bates and Sargent are
relevant ; for in order to comprehend the responsiveness
of one to the other, the history of both must be known.
That knowledge obtained, inferences may then be drawn
regarding cause and effect of concomitant or sequential
events.
For example, Sargent reports at length on the find
ings and recommendations of the famous Hull and Ford
87
survey of the Los Angeles City Schools (1934) and on the
result of subsequent implementation by the District of
the survey’s major recommendations (Sargent, pp. 60-63).
But it was immaterial to his study that the survey team
of Hull and Ford were senior professors on the faculty of
the School of Education of the University of Southern
California, and the fact goes unreported. Likewise un
reported and possibly unknown to Sargent is that Hull and
Ford were noted for a series of comparable surveys con
ducted for school districts throughout Southern California
and that the School of Education and the University sanc
tioned the surveys as falling within the general policy
of public service by the School of Education or its indi
vidual faculty members (Cf., Hull, 1968 ; Thompson, 1968 ;
and Weersing, 1969).^ The inferences may be drawn from
this set of circumstances that the Hull and Ford surveys
had succeeded in aiding the districts they had examined;
that the Los Angeles City Schools were in need of help of
^The University did more than just sanction the sur
veys; it took pride in them. Several Hull and Ford sur
veys were published in the University of Southern Califor-
nia Studies series. See below and Bibliography.
88
the sort a survey might provide; that the survey team's
reputation (derived from their work and from their insti
tutional affiliation) was such that responsible admin
istrators and school board members adjudged them capable
and worthy of having the survey of the Los Angeles City
Schools in their hands.
It is regrettable that such potentially valuable
resources as Bates and Sargent, as exemplified above,
should be as severely limited in historical scope as they
prove to be. Bates wrote in 1928, when the School of
Education was barely ten years old, and her history is
relevant more to the genesis than to the ongoing history
of the School. The eventful years of the Great Depres
sion, World War II, and the postwar era--all within the
purview of this study--were yet to come. Sargent's time
span is greater--he wrote in 1940--and he is more immedi
ately relevant. But by the very nature of his undertak
ing, a master's thesis--acceptably less comprehensive than
a doctoral dissertâtion--he devotes barely fifty pages to
the complicated history of public secondary education in
Los Angeles (pp. 13-24, 45-82), Nevertheless, despite
these shortcomings, the substance of the theses of Bates
89
and Sargent offers enough of relevance to the present
study, mainly as ammunition for inferences, that they
earn the space they occupy in the review of related
literature.
At the last, there are the works of broad philosophic
conception. The temptation is great to talk here of addi
tional excellent and, in some cases, even great books of
undeniable if rather broad relevance. Within the design
of the bibliography, these works would not be listed since
they are not cited elsewhere in the text. Within the plan
of the review of related literature, they warrant only
fleeting mention as the annotated account of studies in
the history of ideas in education is brought to a close.
One such work is The Development of Academic Freedom in
the United States by Hofstadter and Metzger (1955), which
expertly surveys the history of that continuing and often
pressing issue in American education. Another is The
Development and Scope of Higher Education in the United
States by Hofstadter and Hardy (1952), a book which suc
cinctly and successfully encompasses the totality of
American higher education. Both these books were written
within a year or two of the end of this history and
90
represent the informed thinking of that era on the topics
they essay. This quality enhances their value as back
ground resources.
Works that require more extensive attention in this
last phase of the review according to its design are three
that address themselves to theories and other abstract
ideas which, when taking concrete form, have caused seri
ous pragmatic repercussions for university schools of
education. The works are Teaching-Learning Theory and
Teacher Education 1890 to 1950 by Walter S. Monroe (1952),
The Liberal and Technical in Teacher Education by Merle L.
Borrowman (1956), and "The Opposition to Schools of Edu
cation by Professors of Liberal Arts--A Historical Ana
lysis" by Eugene Charles Auerbach (1957). (The chrono
logical order of the studies is only coincidental.)
The first two books are really on the same subject.
Each in its own way recounts the history of teacher edu
cation in the United States from the posture that ideas
are predominant and that developments merely reflect
ideational abstractions such as theoretical constructs.
In fact, each book has an underlying theoretical frame
work to set its thrust and maintain its direction.
91
Monroe's thesis is that the goals of teacher educa
tion "are the qualifications considered necessary or
desirable for teachers." Since "the concept of these
qualifications is derived from our understanding of the
teacher's function," the story of evolving solutions to
the problems of what special preparation teachers should
require and how it should be provided "includes the
evolving concept of the teaching-learning process which
has been a major factor in the thinking about desired
qualifications" (Monroe, p. 1). In other words, as
theories about the nature of teaching and learning have
changed, notions about what qualifies a teacher to engage
in teaching have changed correspondingly; and ideas about
how to prepare teachers (that is, how to elicit or in
still the desired qualifications) have likewise changed.
It is this last set of ideas which, in each succeeding
instance, has determined practices in institutions of
teacher education.
Working from that theoretical base, Monroe goes on
to explore in depth and detail the "development of teach
ing-learning theory," the "evolution of teacher education
purposes," and the "development of practice in teacher
92
education" (p. 5). In the course of performing the task
he set for himself, Monroe is uniformly superb. He is
awesomely knowledgeable, obviously committed to the tenets
of historical criticism, careful and confident. So much
that is relevant to the background of the present study
is included in Monroe, one hesitates to cite any isolated
part of it. However, one example, drawn from an important
chapter devoted to "Teacher Education in Colleges and
Universities" (pp. 307-333), is singularly apropos and
merits quotation. It reads as follows:
Although it is not possible to document the
statement adequately, two other influences [on
the status of teacher education programs in
universities] seem apparent--the president's
interest and his understanding of teacher edu
cation and the personal and scholarly qualifi
cations of the head of the education unit. The
positive influence of Marion L. Burton, presi
dent of the University of Michigan 1920-25, is
apparent in the development of that institution.
The positive influence of the head of the educa
tion unit is illustrated by the development at
Stanford University. . . . [Wjhen E.P. Cubberley
was appointed head in 1898, President Jordan told
him "that the department was in thorough disre
pute, and that if it were left to a vote of the
faculty they would be almost unanimous for its
discontinuance." In the development from this
status Cubberley's influence was a major factor.
Evidence of the operation of negative influences
from these sources is mainly inferential or not
available in public records, but as the present
writer inquired into institutional developments,
93
it seemed clear that what was done or not done
in certain institutions could be explained
largely in terms of the president's lack of
interest in teacher education and/or the per
sonal and scholarly qualities of the head of
the education unit (Monroe, pp. 321-322).
With this kind of bolstering from a scholar of Mon
roe's stature (Distinguished Professor of Education,
Emeritus, University of Illinois), a researcher into the
history of a university school of education who might
otherwise be excessively timid about recognizing the con
tributions of certain key figures in its history for fear
of having fallen victim of the "halo effect" or of having
become an uncritical perpetrator of the hero theory in
history might be bolder in setting down conclusions re
specting those figures. (Cf., for example. Chapter IV,
below, and its emphasis on the roles of Professors Hoose
and Stowell in the genesis of the School of Education.)
The foregoing excerpt should also demonstrate that
Monroe's inferences and conclusions are reasoned and tem
perate. Even the basic theoretical construct underlying
his inquiry into teaching-learning theory--that changes
in teacher education practice are reactions to changes in
conceptions of the function and qualifications of teachers
94
--is not contentious. In fact, it might be viewed by
moderate observers as a self-evident proposition, or
axiom.At least, Monroe's is the broadest kind of
theoretical foundation for an historical inquiry into
educational processes.
By contrast, Borrowman's thesis, while neither in
temperate nor immoderate, is intrinsically argumentative
and narrower than Monroe's. His perception is that a
polarization of positions has occurred in America with
respect to the function of education.
On the one hand, he explains, there are those who
conceive the function of education as liberal. Origin
ally,
[tjhe idea of a liberal education . . . included
the Aristotelian concept of education for leisure
as opposed to education for use. Its objective
was to produce the free man . . . who, relieved
from the need to produce goods or artisan ser
vices directly, could spend his time in specula
tive thought . . . (Borrowman, p. 3).
Borrowman contends that in transferring Aristotelian con
cepts to the twentieth century, partisans of liberal
However, see Auerbach, discussed below, for accounts
of sometimes violent rejection of even so innocuous a
precept as that advanced by Monroe.
95
education have operated on the assumption that "a fixed
curriculum, based largely on the thinking of the past,
can be adequate for modern times [and] that there is a
necessary dichotomy between education for use and educa
tion for leisure" (pp. 3-4). Borrowman alleges that it
is "education for leisure" that the "liberalists" assign
as the only function of higher education.
On the other hand, there are those who advocate
emphasis on the technical function of education. "Educa
tion functions technically," explains Borrowman, "when
its purpose is the cultivation of skill in the actual per
formance of a previously determined task" (p. 4). But
the technical is not antithetical to the liberal function;
indeed, "the two are complementary, and may in some cases
be alike in kind, differing only in purpose" (p. 4). So,
[fjor example, detailed instruction and practice
in the techniques of historical research and
criticism constitute for the potential historian
an important part of his technical equipment.
The same experience, however, may have for the
prospective elementary school teacher the liberal
function of making him sensitive to the proper
use of history in the general analysis of prob
lems. . . . While the functions are not mutually
exclusive the instruction is primarily technical
in the one case and primarily liberal in the
other (p. 5).
96
Stated another way, the determining factor in whether a
particular activity is liberal or technical resides in
how it is related to the professional or potential pro
fessional performance of the individual engaged in the
activity.
Borrowman believed that as an "educational historian
in a professional school" (viz., as a faculty member of
Teachers College, Columbia University), "his efforts must
be measured in terms of the extent to which they make
formal education more effective" (p. vii). Therefore, he
was "problem oriented," and in his book,
focused on the search for balance between two
educational functions, both of which are essen
tial in a technologically advanced society. On
the one hand is the necessity to train indivi
duals to perform efficiently the specialized
technical tasks assigned to them. On the other
hand is the need to make certain that each person
systematically considers the far-flung implica
tions of his vocational and avocational decisions
(p. vii).
Borrowman accedes that he could have studied the problem
engaging his attention as it was embodied among profes
sional groups other than teachers. He acknowledges,
moreover, that the same issues prevail between the liberal
and technical offerings in high schools and in other than
97
teacher education colleges. But, as he apprehends it,
the history of teacher education epitomizes the dichotomy
he posits; therefore, he sees advantages in selecting
teacher education as the matrix within which to explore
the problem. According to his formulation,
[f]rom the standpoint of educational reform, im
provement in teacher preparation spreads most
rapidly throughout other units in the educational
system. If, in their own professional education,
teachers become acutely sensitive to the issues
involved, and highly appreciative of both the
liberal and technical functions of education, they
are less apt to ignore either in their own teach
ing and in making educational policy. Moreover,
there is currently widespread agitation and a
spirit of experimentation in teacher education
circles. If this spirit is to be most profitable
it must be informed by all the disciplines which
provide channels into relevant knowledge (p. vii).
Having set forth his theoretical dichotomy (unfortun
ately, too often in language that does not lend itself to
lucid summary because of lapses into nebulousness and
occasional contradiction), Borrowman carries out the theme
of his construct in telling the history of teacher educa
tion in America. It is a worthy and informative effort.
It is true that the key phrases he used to note the anti
thetical positions were not original--Monroe had spoken
of "liberal (general) education" and "technical-profes-
98
sional work" (Monroe, passim), but as complementary com
ponents of teacher education rather than as strands of a
dichotomy. Monroe, too, had noted an element of contest,
not as inherent but as the response of vested interests
among subject matter departments mounting a defense
against real or imagined incursions into their academic
jurisdictions (Monroe, pp. 406-408 et passim). Borrowman,
on the other hand, perceived the divergencies as the col
orations of saturating factionalism and so spotlights
their hues as to expose points of bitter contention in
the history of American teacher education which probably
would not otherwise be seen in that light or comprehended
fully.
To cite but one brief example, Borrowman attributes
to the presence of schools of education on university
campuses--among liberal arts faculty dedicated to the
liberal function of education--the movement among the pre
eminent scholars on the education faculties to promote
"the newly conceived social role of the school" (p. 103).
Two such figures mentioned are William H. Payne of Michi
gan University, who wrote eloquently on this issue during
the era of departments of pedagogy, circa 1887 (pp. 102-
99
103), and George S. Counts of Teachers College during the
more modern era of Borrowman's study (pp. 156-15 7) and
the present dissertation.
Hence, Borrowman is importantly informative. But
acceptance of his thesis must be tempered. For although
he is never polemical, yet he does seem to overstate his
case--perhaps to obtain what Baker has called "the argu
mentative edge" (1962, pp. 3-8). And Borrowman has super
imposed somewhat artificially upon a study of teacher edu
cation a framework of controversy as though it were the
essence rather than a byproduct of its history. A look
at Auerbach, the last work included in this review, to
which the questions raised by the contrast between Mon
roe's moderation and Borrowman's relative bias have led
naturally, should help to augment their data, inferences,
and conclusions, and to adjust the focus relative to the
history of the university study of education.
Auerbach's stated purpose was to analyze the history
of the opposition to schools of education by professors
of liberal arts because he viewed the opposition as a
"major problem in many colleges and universities in the
United States" (p. 1). Accordingly, he delimited his
100
study to intra-university and intra-college opposition,
excluding normal schools and other "single-purpose
teacher-training institutions" as similar but not within
the scope of his dissertation (p. 11). "There can be
little doubt," he asserts, "that the opposition of the
liberal arts faculties to the work of the schools of edu
cation has been a negative force in the teacher-training
program" (p. 5), and he cites support for the stipulation
One dramatic quotation is from the keynote speech to the
1952 convocation of the Council on Cooperative Teacher
Education (whose very existence corroborates the serious
ness of the problem) which alleged that "[t]he major
problem in teacher education of this mid-twentieth cen
tury is the bridging of the gap between the academic and
professional minds" (Snyder, 1952, as quoted in Auerbach,
p. 4) .
However, Auerbach is unlike Borrowman, who, in the
very act of denying that his construct posits a discrete
dichotomy, commits the "either-or" fallacy decried by
Monroe (p. 161) and by semanticists from Korzybski to
Hayakawa. Instead, Auerbach warns the reader of his bias
and of the precariousness of predispositions as follows:
101
An attempt . . . was made to avoid bias in the
selection of evidence. The word "attempt" is
used advisedly. Historical studies involve
great selectivity. In a study of this type,
where there are probably no "neutral" writers,
this is particularly true. The writers of the
National Survey of the Education of Teachers
looked for evidence of cooperation between pro
fessors of the liberal arts and professors of
education--and often found such evidence. The
writer of the present study looked for hostility
between the two groups--so he found hostility.
This is the danger in a historical study of this
type (p. 14).
His warning issued, Auerbach proceeds to combine
the results of a survey of opinion among liberal arts
professors (which, as he says, sought and found hostility)
with careful historical research to create an account of
the etiology of the opposition which he studied and of
its history, its present character (1955), its effects,
and its significance. His findings are illuminating and
his conclusions informed, and they bear selective repeti
tion at the close of this review of the final trio of
resources.
Auerbach found that the long-standing, increased and
intensified criticism of schools of education by profes
sors of liberal arts "could not be substantiated by ob
jective data. That is, essentially this is a controversy
102
of philosophy and opinion." Furthermore, the professor-
critics have not "favored practices usually associated
with 'traditional' education" and--Borrowman notwith-
standing--the "manifestations of this assumed liberal
arts philosophy" were often contradictory. In addition,
the attacks were unreasoned by either side, but those of
the liberal arts professors upon professors and schools
of education were the more vituperative and scurrilous;
"[mjany professors of liberal arts clearly violated pro
fessional ethics" and voiced opinions based upon unin
formed "tradition and conservatism." For example, the
professor-critics generally rejected "the thesis that the
curriculum of the public schools is shaped largely by
social and economic forces" and assumed that "professors
of education, in fact, can operate . . . relatively free
from social forces." Overall, Auerbach concludes, "[v]ery
little of a constructive nature has resulted from the con
troversy" except, perhaps, that "academicians are being
forced to take a greater interest in teacher education."
He recommends, finally, that "[a]11-university councils
on teacher education should be encouraged and strength
ened" (n, b .), with "[p]rofessors of liberal arts . . .
103
given a more active role in the teacher-training program"
(pp. 328-337, passim).
Thus, Borrowman*s thesis that a polarization exists
between advocates of the liberal function and of the tech
nical function in teacher education and has been the main
force fashioning practices in teacher education remains
unsupported by two other scrupulous investigators. Mon
roe had recognized the two elements in teacher education
and had even labeled them. But on his broad historical
canvas, changes in teacher education practices occurred
as responses to the more fundamental changes in teaching-
learning theory (to which the liberal versus technical
"opposition" doubtless contributed in some measure).
Auerbach went beyond Borrowman into the sources of the
latter * s dichotomous construct and found there serious
problems, even destructive divisions, but "very little of
a constructive nature" and no evidence that therein was
to be found the wellspring of trends in teacher education.
On the contrary, Auerbach sensed that the history of pub
lic education was "shaped largely by social and economic
forces" to which professors and schools of education were
likewise bound by reason of being dependent upon and
104
responsive to the demands of public school personnel for
courses, curricula, and services which would meet their
changing needs.
Taken together, Monroe, Borrowman, and Auerbach aug
ment each other in theory, complement each other in data,
and balance each other in inferences and conclusions,
thus deepening comprehension of the history and theory
underlying the present study.
Overview of the Review of Related Literature
The plan of the present chapter has been to lay be
fore the reader a broad spectrum of literature which is
related to this dissertation in a variety of ways. To
recapitulate briefly, the chapter began with an enumera
tion of primary sources of immediate materiality, rele
vancy, and pertinence. Then it moved to a discussion of
secondary sources: first, to those that, because of idio
syncrasies of time, place, and author, manifested char
acteristics of primary sources; then to other unmistakable
secondary sources which were more or less material, rele
vant, and pertinent to the history of the School of Edu
cation of the University of Southern California. Finally,
105
the chapter eschewed works of immediate materiality and
delved into parallel histories of other university schools
of education; into histories of other institutions or
educational systems relevant or pertinent to the history
of the School of Education; into historical studies taking
a broad view of education in relation to world problems
prevalent or emergent roughly within its temporal delim
itations ; and, at the last, to theoretical works about
the development of teacher education and of university
schools of education derived either from the study of
their history within a theoretical framework or from ex
amination of external forces impinging upon this area of
educational history.
The intent of the plan, specifically, was to spell
out the background of the present work and thereby to set
the scene for the history which follows. The plan also
had the generic purpose of demonstrating that the doctoral
candidate who would undertake to write the history of an
educational institution must have sufficient knowledge to
perceive the institution in its larger context and not to
portray it as though it were functioning in isolation or
in vacuo, seemingly immune to external issues, events, and
106
trends of the times. Nor is it sufficient to do as Borg
suggests and merely allow the review of related literature
to emerge as reference to various sources is made in the
text of the history; for Borg's suggestion is built upon
the premise that a neophyte educational historian should
possess more than a smattering of requisite reading in
primary and secondary sources and that he is able to per
ceive relationships within the hierarchy of knowledge--
from the concrete data of history to the abstractions
underlying them in inference, judgment, conclusion, and
theory--without benefit of a chapter whose organizational
structure reflects that hierarchy and whose content sets
forth its constituent elements explicitly. Except in the
rarest of instances, Borg's presumption must be unfounded.
Thus, from the vantage point of the present writer,
the chapter was needed to orient him to his job. From
the point of view of his doctoral committee, it may be
deemed an appropriate step in the exercise, if nothing
more. For other readers who may encounter the disserta
tion, the chapter may tender some hints at replication.
For the present moment, it sets the door to the history
over so slightly ajar.
107
Let us now open the door wide and enter upon the
history.
Postscript to Chapter III
With the exception of the brief comments which
follow, all of Chapters I through IV and much of Chapter
V of the present dissertation were written before the
publication and availability of Southern California and
Its University, A history of USC: 1880-1964, by Manuel
Patricio Servin and Iris Higbie Wilson (1969). Therefore,
reference to the contents of that history does not begin
until well into Chapter V. Neglected, this might have
proved to be a serious complication of the present study;
for a recent history of the University must be a part of
the bibliography from the very beginning of a history of
the School of Education.
To obviate the detrimental implications of the omis
sion of Servin and Wilson's work from Chapters I through
IV, the book was carefully read and checked for concur
rence with the data appearing in the chapters stipulated.
The procedure revealed the existence of no disagreement
whatsoever and of no omission material to the history of
the School of Education. Furthermore, documentation
108
already cited has not required supplementation by corrob
orative citation of Servin and Wilson; for all matters
respecting the University in the present history rely
upon the same primary sources or upon sources which paral
lel those utilized in their history. Duplication would
serve no scholarly purpose.
Nevertheless, it was deemed consistent with scholarly
standards that Servin and Wilson be checked on all points,
that explanatory remarks be appended to Chapter IV by way
of postscript, and that some comments about Servin and
Wilson's book complete the review of the related litera
ture and bring this chapter to a close.
It has been noted in Chapter 1 that Servin and Wil
son's history of the University of Southern California
was commissioned by President Topping and made possible
by a grant from the Sears-Roebuck Foundation (Servin and
Wilson, p. iv), The terms of the commission were gra
cious; "we were given just one instruction by President
Norman Topping: to write as complete and honest a story
as possible."
[Furthermore, t]he University asked that no special
purpose be served--only that as history, the book
revive memories, enrich the knowledge of the reader.
109
and give new perspective and understanding about
the ways of human progress (p. v).
As this was the case, the University made available
to the two historians "all pertinent information contained
in its public and private archives" (p. vi). The result
is that the book is a valuable reference and dependable
resource against which to verify the accuracy of sequence
and chronology. Historiographically, it provides the
inclusive perspective of the University's history and
that of the Southland community which contains it.
However, Servin and Wilson's emphases are such that
immediate materiality to the history of the School of
Education is rare. By and large, theirs is a history of
financial considerations; of the founding of professional
schools other than Education; of production of graduates
who moved into public prominence (but whose historical
significance is often questionable); of building programs,
buildings completed, and buildings dedicated ; and of many
sports, but--mainly--of football. Academic affairs, aca
demic courses and curricula, academic freedom, academic
personnel, academic philosophy--these receive perfunctory
attention. Not to appear hypercritical, at times one
110
loses sight of the fact that the book is a history of an
institution of higher learning.
In the case of the School of Education, although
Dean Melbo was interviewed by the writers in the course
of their research, neither he nor his predecessors. Deans
Rogers and Hull, are mentioned. A rare look is taken at
the School of Education in a section of a chapter entitled
"USC and the Education of the Southland" (pp. 209-244).
Therein, Professor Servin, acknowledged author of the
chapter in question, reflects on the role of the Univer
sity in "producing a body of thoughtful, critical, in
dependent -minded citizens" (p. 209) and assesses the
proportions of its influence as "almost limitless" when
its students have become teachers,
"Southern California," asserts Professor Servin,
"may well be more indebted for its public educational
development to the University of Southern California than
to any institution of higher learning in the area or in
the State" (p. 209).
To make his case, Servin goes on to compare enroll
ments among the various Southern California institutions
and concludes that the University "outstripped the state
Ill
institution, . . . |and] the private colleges, in educa
ting and training the professional men and leaders for
southern | sic] California" (p. 211). Moreover, his in
formed opinion is that "[i]t is not an exaggeration to
state that public education in southern [sic] California
would have been hampered most seriously if the University
had not seen the need for university-trained teachers and
administrators" (p. 214). Ani, almost unintentionally, he
reinforces the point regarding the outstanding record of
the School of Education with the following observations:
While the University has produced numerous out
standing and influential educational leaders in
lower education [by which he means public educa
tion through junior college], the same pattern
is not evident on the college and university
level. In all honesty, the University, until
recent years, has not turned out any substantial
proportion of productive scholars from among its
doctoral graduates of the Graduate School (p. 219).
The book is especially valuable on matters material
to the history of the University which are only peri
pherally material to that of the School of Education and
yet are relevant and pertinent to it. One such matter is
the official secularization of the University in 1928,
which no other available source summarizes. Servin and
Wilson credit the decision to the thought and influence
112
of Dr. von KleinSmid. Their description warrants quota
tion and is offered at this point in the review of related
literature as an acknowledgement of their contribution,
an exemplification of their style, and a means of avoid
ing digression in the history of the School of Education
itself. This is what they wrote :
Nineteen hundred and twenty-eight was President
von KleinSmid’s banner year. In addition to
creating the new departments, schools, and col
leges, he was responsibile for making USC an in
dependent, nonsectarian, regional institution.
Until 1928 the University had been governed by
the Southern California Methodist Conference
which elected the University's trustees. But
while the Conference controlled the University,
it failed to support it financially. Further
more, the Conference "Could not give the Uni
versity the chance to increase its endowment
through campaigns among the churches." To meet
the needs of the University as well as to in
crease its endowment, President von KleinSmid
initiated another unrealistic ten million dollar
drive, the Semicentennial Celebration Drive. The
Drive immediately ran into difficulty. First,
prospective donors, both educational foundations
and persons of wealth, would not give aid because
of the manner in which the board was constituted.
Secondly, the University because of its existing
board organization could not legally receive and
hold gifts. It is therefore not difficult to
understand why "von KleinSmid presented for con
sideration a resolution amending the Articles of
Incorporation of the University revising aforesaid
Articles on advice of attorneys to conform to the
laws of the State of California." President von
KleinSmid must have had tremendous influence over
the board members (pp. 112-113).
113
The effect of this action, as reported by Servin and
Wilson, was appointment of a board of trustees only one
half of whom would be Methodist. The action opened the
doors to donations by philanthropists such as the Doheny
family who had become estranged from the University (p.
113).
It is idle to speculate on what would have happened
to the School of Education had the Methodist Conference
retained control. Dr. von KleinSmid somehow succeeded in
his financial efforts, and the University continued as a
sectarian institution. The unavoidable inference is that
in that case the School of Education would not have moved
in the direction and in the manner it took as part of a
secular institution.
The book includes an excellent bibliography--to its
credit--but citation to it is sparse. As the authors
explain at the outset, "The text is not specifically
documented, but . . . a footnoted copy of the manuscript
[has been placed] in the University library for those
who wish to check . . ." (p. vi). This failure to in
clude documentation in the published version confirms
the impression that the book was conceived more for
114
popular consumption than for scholars, and that such is
the order of its priorities.
One small matter warrants mention. The book's fore
word was written by Carey McWilliams, USC alumnus, editor
of the Nation, and longtime student and writer on Cali
fornia history. His is a friendly appraisal, more com
plimentary, perhaps, than is warranted. But he asks a
question on behalf of most readers of the book.
"[Wjhy do these fine historians," he asks, "writing
of an institution that carries the proud name of the
University of Southern California, insist on writing
'southern California' throughout the text?" (p. xvi).
The practice "implies a subtle diminishment of the re
gion," is uncalled for, illogical, inconsistent with
usage, and reflects on the book. One hopes that a sub
sequent edition will correct it.
So the weaknesses of Servin and Wilson's history of
the University are apparent. For students of the history
of higher learning, one might wish for a documented ver
sion with more attention to educational and philosophic
matters. Still, even for scholarly use, the history has
many strengths. It is written in strict accordance with
115
Bowen's dictum--so says McWilliams--"as it should be,
with respect and affection for the institution" (p. xiv).
Furthermore, it is molded as Nevins says it must, by the
historians' perception of their subject. Perhaps it says
something about the philosophy and atmosphere of the Uni
versity of Southern California that its historians should
have perceived its salient feature to be its popular ap
peal and have written its history in like vein.
116
CHAPTER IV
THE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION: GENESIS
Announcement
In order to provide enlarged opportunities for
the training of teachers the Trustees of the
University, at their meeting in June, 1918,
authorized the organization of a School of Edu
cation. At the same time Dr. Thomas B. StoweII
was appointed Dean and directed to proceed with
the organization of the school (University of
Southern California Bulletin: School of Educa
tion announcement for 1918-1919, XIII, 4 [Sep
tember 1918], p. 3).
Thus begins the first slender pamphlet officially
listing the offerings of the newly designated School of
Education of the University of Southern California, The
quotation from the Announcement is a fair sample of the
sense and tone of the whole, intended as it was simply to
introduce the new entity to anyone who might be interested
or affected. To the reader of the Builetin in 1918, the
action probably seemed little more than a formality, for
a "Department of Education" had been functioning at the
University since 1909 and, before that, a Department of
Pedagogy since 18961
117
1
A Retrospection
In point of fact, even before the existence of the
University itself, the leadership of the Methodist Epis
copal Church in Southern California had taken a step which
was to set a precedent for the establishment of the Uni
versity and was later to prove to be closely related to
the training of teachers at the University. This step
was the founding of the Los Angeles Academy, effective on
the ll^h of September, 1876, "incorporated as a prepar
atory school and . . . limited in function to furnishing
instruction of secondary grade" (Gay, p. 16).
There is eloquent later testimony that the change
was little thought of. In 1965, the Society of Delta
Epsilon, the Education Alumni Association, and other
organizations closely tied to the School of Education
announced a "Golden Jubilee Banquet" as the "first event
in the fiftieth anniversary celebration of the School of
Education," with Dr. Merritt M. Thompson designated to
give "interesting highlights" of its history. The cele
bration was--technically, at least--ten years premature.
^In the now archaic but still impressively fine style
of the early twentieth century, Gay wrote of the Academy's
tentative and precarious beginnings as follows:
Professor O.S. Frambes . . . was appointed
to the principalship of the school, Mrs, Frambes
118
The Academy was to continue its separate existence
for but four school years. In 1880, the Academy's "as
sets, patronage, good-will, and denominational enthusiasm"
(Gay, p. 37), as well as its student body and curriculum.
acting as preceptress. . . .
Starting with an enrollment of fifteen students,
by December the number had increased to over forty,
with prospects for a still larger increase. How
ever, owing to the outbreak of an epidemic of small
pox and the quarantining of the house in which Pro
fessor and Mrs. Frambes were living, together with
a number of the students who boarded with them, the
Academy had to be closed for a full month during
the winter. . . . The courses of instruction of
fered covered the work of the Preparatory, Grammar,
and Academic grades. The wide range of instruction
seemed necessary in order to accommodate the dif
ferent classes of students who came, for they were
of all ages and varying degrees of preparation.
. . , During the first year Professor and Mrs.
Frambes taught all the classes. . . .
On the evening of the 22nd of June, 1877, an
excellent musical and literary entertainment was
given in the Academy building. The room was
tastefully decorated and, at the hour for begin
ning the program, was filled to overflowing. . . .
The program . . .was carefully prepared and ex
cellently rendered. Among the recitations especi
ally good, was that of "Barbara Fritchie" by Miss
Maggie Blasdel, and tears came to many eyes dur
ing the recitation of "You Put No Flowers on My
Papa's Grave," by Miss Emma Bradley. . . . a
tender tribute was paid to the memory of one who,
during the year, had passed from the school-room
here to the Great One above. . . . and thus was
the first year of the Los Angeles Academy brought
to a close (pp. 26-27).
119
were transferred to the newly-founded University of
Southern California and absorbed by it. In Gay's view,
"The Academy was like the morning star in the literary
firmament, which, though shining brightly for a time, was
at length eclipsed and absorbed in the rising glory of
the University" (p. 37).
But this was a period in the history of the Univers
ity when it was subjected to a variety of forces affecting
its very existence and bearing heavily upon the ultimate
development of the School of Education. On the one hand,
the "boom" of the 1880*s had brought economic prosperity
to the area and success to the University, Ambitious
plans were laid for its expansion. With the discontinu
ance of the Academy, its offerings had become part of the
then-named College of Liberal Arts. But in 1888, "The
Academy was separated from the College of Liberal Arts
and made a distinct Department, with Professor Gunne as
principal" (Gay, pp. 100-101), one minor step only in im
plementing the University-wide expansion plans alluded to.
On the other hand, an outside influence "working for the
disruption of the institution was the free-school idea"
(Gay, p. 209). While we understand this movement now
120
from the perspective of history and sociology and approve
it as responsive to the trend to urbanization and as an
implementation of the democratic process, Gay saw it as
perniciously acting to "undermine the whole University
structure, thus hastening its ultimate dissolution" (p.
209). As the State of California lent its vigorous
legislative support to the "High School System," private
and denominational schools found themselves increasingly
unable to compete with the free schools and, one by one,
were forced to close their doors. The University, too,
felt the pressure.
With the territory already occupied, or fast be
coming so, by the free High Schools offering the
best opportunity for instruction in all secondary
branches, the Seminaries and Academies of the Uni
versity became a superfluity and, without suffici
ent income to maintain themselves, were forced to
strike their colors and abandon the unequal strug
gle in favor of their more successful rivals (Gay,
p. 210).
3
Gay's reference was to a "University system" con
ceived by the founders of the University designed to
"honeycomb all Southern California with colleges and
academies .... This plan, colossal in scope and
magnitude of dimensions, carried to completion would
have made The University of Southern California one of
the greatest educational institutions known to the
scholastic world" (pp. 197-198).
121
Another development forcing retrenchment by the Uni
versity and really spelling the demise of the "University
system," which had been envisioned as the instrumentality
of the institution's expansion (see Footnote 3), was a
long economic depression. Starting in 1887 with the
Breaking of the Boom," the depression reached its nadir
in 1893. To the University, the depression meant a "flat
tening out" of the value of its tangible assets from a
high of "millions" to a low of between two hundred and
three hundred thousand dollars (Gay, pp. 210-211). To
the University's academies and seminaries, it meant that
parents who might have been willing in better times to
pay tuition for a high school age child to attend a Uni
versity school of secondary grade now looked with favor
and acceptance on the available free high school.
These conditions did not result in termination of the
secondary grade program at the University. But the tables
had been turned dramatically. Whereas in 1876, the Los
Angeles City Board of Education had met to consider dis
continuing its one high school (it did not do so), which
had been founded in 18 72 and was then open only until
12:15 daily "since the principal . . . in his capacity of
122
city superintendent needed to visit the other schools"
(Sargent, 1940, p. 43), by 1893 enrollment had increased
to over 600; by 1908 three high schools had 1,572 pupils;
and in 1918, the year of the creation of the School of
Education, 24,066 pupils attended twenty-five high schools
in the Los Angeles City School District (Sargent, p. 131).
In the long run, the rise and dominance of the free-
school idea was to have the opposite effect from the
short-range one perceived and reported by Gay. For the
exponential increase in high school attendance--graphic
al ly set forth in Sargent's tables, cited above--created
a great potential undergraduate student body for the Uni
versity and a demand for specially designated, approved,
and expanded course offerings in the field of pedagogy.
The same need gave rise to the parallel development of
the State Normal Schools in California, the first of which
began operation in San Francisco in 1862, with a "Branch"
Normal School housed and conducting classes in Los Angeles
as of 1882 (Merlino, 1962, pp. 25, 75).
A digression is necessary at this point to set the
stage for the advent of the University's response to these
demands. In the late 1880's and early 1890's, the Uni
123
versity had been in the most serious financial difficulty
of its brief existence. It teetered on the brink of ex
tinction; "a spirit of discouragement and general dis
satisfaction was rife among the Faculty and students
alike" (Gay, p. 222). Measures would have to be taken to
ameliorate the situation by gradually infusing the atmos
phere with the sweet smell of success. It was recognized
by the President of the University, Dr. J.P. Widney, that
enrollment would have to be increased by making the cur
riculum of the University more attractive, even if it
meant making it more practical. In 1894, with the elec
tion of the Reverend Milton E. Phillips as Dean of the
College of Liberal Arts, needed measures began to be put
into effect. Fundamentally, they centered in a percept
ible shift in emphasis from the "Classics" alone to a more
balanced curriculum which included the "Natural Sciences."
With the curricular shift came an alteration of attitude
and the adoption of "the modern progressive spirit of
scientific investigation and thought" (Gay, p. 226).
A biology department was inaugurated. Biological and
physical science laboratories were fitted up. The art
department was enlarged. The semester system supplanted
124
the three-term year. "As a result of the new order which
had been established in all branches of the educational
system, a fresh and lively interest began to be manifest
ed. This was attested by the large increase in student
enrollment during the first year" (Gay, p. 228).
It was now apparent that the work of restructuring
the University would have to continue. At the end of the
academic year. President Widney, one of the University's
pioneers, who had seen it through its "darkest days,"
resigned to allow a younger man to assume leadership for
the new era. "On the 27^^ of September, 1895, Reverend
George W. White . . . was elected to the Presidency"
Gay p. 251). Under President White's direction, many
additional steps in the University's restructuring were
taken, including the reorganization of its corporate and
fiscal patterns, but these matters are of only peripheral
interest here. Concern here is with the recognition that
one way the institution could be responsive to the needs
of the community for work in teaching and at the same time
attract large numbers of qualified students to the Uni
versity was to bring in a recognized expert in the field
of teaching and create a department around him.
125
In 1896 the Department of Pedagogy was organized
. . . and placed in charge of Professor James H.
Hoose. This Department was opened in order to
meet the need of students who especially desired
to fit themselves to become teachers. The aim
was to give instruction not only in the history
and theory, but in the practical workings of the
profession as well. The whole system was grounded
in a thorough and comprehensive study of the forms
and activities of the human mind, as it was recog
nized that psychology was the only proper door
through which entrance was to be gained into the
field of Pedagogy, whether in its theoretical or
practical aspects (Gay, p. 245).
Of course, the viewpoint of the Department of Pedagogy
described by Gay was the one held by Dr. Hoose.
Like so many of the distinguished pedagogues of that
day. Dr. Hoose was a product of old Genesee College, later
to become Syracuse University. He had founded the State
Normal School at Cortland, New York, and had been its
head for some twenty-two years. In 1861, he and his fam
ily had emigrated from New York to California, where, to
all intents and purposes, he went into retirement and
"engaged in fruit culture" (Knoles, 1915, p. 23). At the
time, he had passed his sixtieth birthday--in an era when
that in itself was an accomplishment in longevity. Never
theless, after five years of retirement from education, he
undertook a new career in a young and struggling college.
126
Some groundwork had been laid for him. Courses in
Pedagogy had been offered as professional electives in the
College of Liberal Arts since 1894, when six such courses
were listed (Yearbook, 1894-95, p. 35). But in 1897-98,
the second year of Dr. Hoose's service as Professor of
Pedagogy and Philosophy, the number of courses in Pedagogy
had dwindled to one (Yearbook, 1897,98, p. 21), By 1898,
Dr. Hoose's title had changed (he was now Professor of
History and Economics), and, with the professorship, all
mention of Pedagogy had disappeared (Yearbook, 1898-1900).
Lest there be the inclination to pass hasty judgment
on Dr. Hoose for this seeming neglect of Pedagogy from a
vantage point some seventy years later, examined more
deeply will be the conditions besetting the University
near the turn of the century, and the character of the man.
It has been established that Dr. Hoose was eclectic.
"Not only was Dr. Hoose broader than any department of
study, than all departments in combination, his perspec
tive was that of life itself" (Hunt, 1921, p.9). It is
a matter of record that when he came to the University,
there were but fourteen members of the faculty and ninety
students in the College of Liberal Arts (Knoles, p.23).
127
The precariousness of the University's condition has al
ready been noted. Dr. Moose's very coming to the insti
tution had been motivated by the need for innovation and
invigoration. It may be surmised that Dr. Hoose looked
at the situation with an understanding that would have
been unattainable for those involved in it and that he
saw himself playing a somewhat different part in the drama
of the University from the one in which his employers had
cast him. It must have occurred to him that he could in
ject vigor into the College of Liberal Arts by being its
onmipresent intellectual gadfly, not content to concen
trate on the new department created for him, but moving
from discipline to discipline as he saw the need and as
sessed his own competencies. He had started at the Uni
versity teaching Pedagogy. He immediately took on all
the work in History and Economics. By 1902, he was teach
ing thirty-seven hours a week!
A simple resume of his courses is appalling.
In History, four courses, 12 hours per week:
in Economics one course, three hours per week:
and for the first time in 1902-3 one hour was
given to Sociology, in Psychology and Philo
sophy, 12 hours per week. In addition . . .
he was giving . . . late afternoons and
evenings for graduate students. . . . he was
a very frequent visitor at various city schools
128
and was in great demand as a speaker at Parent-
Teacher Associations (Knoles, p. 25).
Tully C. Knoles, to whom Dr. Hoose was friend, col
league, and mentor, wrote eloquently of those days in the
latter’s career in a 1915 eulogy published by the South
ern California Historical Society, as follows:
Those were the days when he reached the zenith
of his power; many of the leaders in the pro
fessional life of Southern California . . .
received the impetus . . . from the grand old
man at that time. He had now fully come into
his own.
The vigorous personality . . . his agres-
siveness, and his complete devotion to his work
. . . made a deep impression upon the school;
his great knowledge and wonderful enthusiasm for
teaching . . . drew to him the more thoughtful
and earnest of the students. . . . robust in
body and alert in mind; his manner, so different
from that of the ordinary professor of the time.
. , . He was master of the subjects which he
taught, and under all circumstances complete mas
ter of himself. He was never bound by conventions,
nor was he limited by textbooks or courses (Knoles,
pp. 23-24).
His innovations in a multitude of academic courses
led to the organization of six departments, all during his
active career, namely: Economics, Sociology, History,
Political Science, and Philosophy, as well as the subject
of our attention. Education. All in all, as seen by
Knoles, "the largest single personal factor" in the
129
"marvelous expansion" of the College of Liberal Arts in
the era prior to World War 1 "was James Harmon Hoose"
(p. 25).
In the words of Leslie F. Gay, an especially useful
observer of this period in the University's history, "The
advent of Dr. Hoose . . . was nothing short of epochal,
for he has been one of the chief factors in the upbuilding
of the educational work of the University" (p. 246).
Perhaps above all, Dr. Hoose understood the need for
course work of interest and value to the public school
teachers of the area. But by 1907, the word pedagogy had
lost favor in the academic world (O'Leary, p. 12). With
characteristic timeliness, Dr. Hoose revived the courses
he had been hired to teach, this time calling them "Edu
cation" (Knoles, p. 25).^
Elsewhere in the operation of the University, events
The 1906-07 Yearbook lists the following courses un
der "Education": 1. The Form and Content of Education;
2. The History of the Mediaeval Period; 3. Educational Re
formers; 4. The Theory and Practice of Education; and sti
pulates that "Psychology is prerequisite . . . and will
constitute the first four hours of the field" (pp. 62-63,
passim). The provision for a background in psychology is
consonant with Gay's portrayal, cited above, of Dr.
Hoose's convictions in this connection.
130
had moved it toward enhancing and modernizing its program
for teachers. One such step came almost simultaneously
with the resumption of courses in education when several
members of the faculty "united in announcing a very lim
ited extension program" in the summer of 1906 for "the
school teachers of the community [who] had made requests
for further academic work,"
The enrollment was approximately one hundred,
which gave encouragement to repeat the experi
ment the following year. The summer session
was originally a project of the teachers them
selves, with the University granting the use of
the buildings without charge and recognizing
the units of credit earned. There was apparently
no uniformity in the fees, and the instructor's
compensation depended upon the number enrolled
in his class. It was an enterprise organized
entirely for the convenience of the public school
teachers of the community (Henley and Neelley,
1939, p. 63).
Another, more formalized act of updating occurred in
1909 when the Department of Education was organized in
the College of Liberal Arts, and Dr. Thomas Blanchard
Stowell was named to head the new department.
Like Dr. Hoose before him. Dr. Stowell was a gradu
ate of Syracuse University--Genesee College in Dr. Hoose's
day. After completing his degrees. Dr. Stowell served un
der Dr. Hoose as head of the Science Department at the
131
State Normal School at Cortland, New York, which the lat
ter had founded and presided over for so many years. From
Cortland, Dr. Stowe LI moved to the presidency of the Pots
dam, New York, State Normal School and remained in that
capacity for twenty years. It is little wonder that an
administration which was watching the College of Liberal
Arts reap such rewards from Dr. Hoose's presence would
look with great favor upon an educator who came to the
University with virtually the same background and, un
doubtedly, with the "grand old man's" hearty endorsement.
While Dr. Stowell's addition to the faculty of the
College of Liberal Arts and installation as head of the
new Department of Education was a formal act of recogni
tion and updating, his assumption of responsibility and
leadership was to prove to be no mere formality. He
promptly expanded offerings in Education from the limited
pioneer listings of 1906-07 (see Footnote 4) to the fol
lowing rather substantial selection:
Education 1 and 2. Foundational Psychology.
Education 3 and 4, Principles of Education.
Education 5 and 6. History of Education
Education 7. Aesthetics.
Education 8. School Administration.
Education 9. Education of Defectives and
Feebleminded.
132
Education 10 and 11. Philosophy of Education.
Education 12. Health and Development.
Education 14. Practice in Teaching.
(From the Bulletin of September, 1909, pp. 60-63.)
Definite curricula were prescribed for upper division and
graduate students, carefully correlated with their work
in other departments, and spelled out sequentially in the
Builetin (pp. 64-65). All in all. Dr. Stowell conceived
and instituted a program intended to provide adequate pre
paration for teaching in the secondary schools (Gates,
1928, p. 189).
The systematization of the offerings, their official
standing and prestige within the University, Dr. Stowell's
leadership, and the practical needs of prospective teach
ers moved the University to apply to the State Board of
Education for accreditation as a training facility for
the California High School Teacher's Certificate. On
April 23, 1910, the State Board met at Riverside; and its
agenda was the application of the University of Southern
California.
In order to present the position of the Univers
ity the more accurately and earnestly. Doctor G.
F. Bovard, Doctor Rockwell D. Hunt, Doctor Thomas
B. Stowell, and William M. Bowen journeyed to
Riverside to attend the meeting. Dr. Bovard pre
sented the case of the University and indicated
133
his willingness to make any reasonable changes
in its program in order that this right might
be granted (Gates, p. 190).
Accordingly, the State Board appointed a committee
of three to investigate conditions at the University and
to make recommendations for any changes they might judge
necessary. The committee was an impressive one; just as
the University had been represented by its leading aca
demic figures in its presentation, so the State Board
chose committeemen who were easily the most respected
figures of their time in California education. There
were Benjamin Ide Wheeler, President of the University of
California; Alexis F. Lange, Dean of the Department of
Education at the University of California and later first
Dean of its School of Education; and Jesse F. MilIspaugh,
founder and first President of the Los Angeles State Nor
mal School (Gates, p. 190; Hunt, 1930, p.46).
The committee soon visited the University of Southern
California and subsequently issued certain specific recom
mendations as conditional to accreditation:
(a) more definite organization of the graduate
department of the University, (b) limitation of
the teaching schedule to a maximum of twelve
hours for professors conducting graduate courses,
and (c) substantial additions to the general
134
library (Hunt, 1930, p. 46).
Each of the recommendations was agreed to by the Uni
versity, and it was expected that approval would be quick
ly forthcoming--in view of the stature of the applicant
and of the investigating committee. But, for reasons that
are now obscure, the State Board of Education did not act,
and approval continued pending. Therefore, in order to
publicize its vigorous support of the University's request
and to stimulate Board action, the Conference of the Meth
odist Episcopal Church passed a resolution strongly sup
porting the application of the Board of Trustees of the
University of Southern California for "the right to cer
tificate High School Teachers" (as quoted in Gates,
p. 191). A copy of the resolution was sent to each member
of the State Board. Reaction to the urgent communication
from these lay leaders of the Methodist Church was expe
ditious; a special meeting of the State Board of Education
was called for February 11, 1911, this time in Sacramento.
Again, Dr. Bovard presented the University's case, report
ing compliance with the committee's recommendations. Fin
ally, authorization was granted for the University of
Southern California to issue recommendations for the high
135
school teacher's certificate on the same basis as the Uni
versity of California and Stanford University.
The granting of this right to the University
placed it on a par with Stanford University and
the University of California in this important
respect, and also gave it the enviable position
of being the first school in the Southland to
have the right (Gates, p. 192).
From that time on, the Department of Education pro
gressed in an impressive manner. At the end of its first
year of accreditation, the University had endorsed 69
applications for the high school certificate, the number
increasing to 135 in 1916-17, but falling off to 79--still
a respectable figure--in 1917-18 (Gaw, p. 64), probably
because of the repercussions of World War I on college
registration (Gates, p. 68, Henley and Neelley, p. 77).
In 1917, the right to recommend special high school cer
tificates in Manual and Fine Arts, Technical Arts, Physi
cal Culture, and "Miscellaneous," was granted by the State
Board of Education (Gates, p. 192), thus completing ac
creditation for the training of teachers in all types of
work offered in elementary and secondary schools in Cal
ifornia (Hunt, p. 46).
Gaw's study of the development of graduate work at
136
the University includes an interesting find, unavailable
elsewhere, which bears at least partial reproduction here.
It is a printed statement, "undated but by internal evid
ence published prior to September, 1911," outlining the
requirements for the High School Teacher's Recommendation,
as follows:
(1) Pedagogy.--Eight hours per week for one-
year in the department of Education, taken as a
part of either the undergraduate or the graduate
course.
(2) Practice Teaching.--The equivalent of at
least four hours for one-half a school year in a
well equipped school of secondary grade directed
by the Department of Education, or by any approved
University or Normal School ....
(3) Department Requirement.--The requirements
for the University Recommendation can be met, pro
vided the Department Requirements can be met, in
one-half year's graduate study by:
(a) Graduates from a California State Norm
al School officially recognized by the State Board
of Education as of equivalent grade.
(b) Those who have had twenty months' ex
perience with decided success as regular teachers
or as principals in reputable schools, elementary
or secondary.
In either case the candidate must hold a bach
elor's degree from an institution of recognized
standing.
In addition to the required courses in the De
partment of Education and the Practice Teaching,
the department embracing the subject which the can
didate expects to teach in the High School requires
the completion of sufficient work (and that of suf
ficiently high grade) to secure the Departmental
Recommendation that the applicant is fitted to teach
that subject in high school classes ....
137
These Requirements are met in a minimum of
one year of graduate work, except as stated above
under (a) and (b).
Departmental Recommendations are also issued
in minor subjects . . . the candidate is required
to complete satisfactorily six units of graduate
or upper division work in that subject ....
The candidate's entire program of studies
must be arranged under the immediate direction of
the major professor and then filed at the opening
of the semester with an application for a High
School Teacher's Recommendation at the Registrar's
office for the approval of the Graduate Council
(Gaw, p. 23).
It is interesting to note the precise and demanding re
quirements of almost seventy years ago, differing mainly
in degree from those presently in operation in California.
It is also important to note mention of the Graduate Coun
cil-- more of which later--and provision for securing its
approval.
To resume this account of the genesis of the School
of Education, attention is directed to the fact that from
the time of its accreditation by the State Board of Educa
tion until the end of the academic year 1917-18, the spe
cial nature and function of the Department of Education
became more and more apparent. Demands by the Department
upon University facilities were great. If the figures for
secondary school certificate recommendations, cited above.
138
are indicative, then enrollments in the Department of Edu
cation equalled or exceeded those in many of the schools
of the University (see Gates, "Table A: Enrollment,"
p. 270). The role of public school teachers of the com
munity in creating the summer session as they searched for
further education has been described above and is added
testimony of teachers* affecting the University. And
still another example of the University's being affected
by and responsive to the workings of the Department of
Education is the case of the University's preparatory
school: the Academy.
The Academy had long been problematical. From a
high of 371 students in 1907-08, plus summer school that
year with 110, Academy enrollment had fallen to a low of
113 in 1912-13, summer school having been discontinued
after 1908-09. Nevertheless, "chiefly to afford oppor
tunity for cadet teaching, under supervision, to candi
dates for the California High School Teacher's Certifi
cate," the Academy was retained and its name changed to
the University High School (Hunt, 1930, p. 48). Enroll
ment dropped to 90 the first year of the new name. The
next year, 1914-15, University High School adopted a full
139
four-year program; enrollment rose to 124, the rise con
tinuing thereafter and then stabilizing, hovering just
under 200 until the high school's close some fifteen
years later (Gates, p. 270; Hunt, 1930, p. 48).
Thus, the retention, renaming, and adaptation of the
program to the needs of the Department for an on-campus
teacher-training facility brought to full realization the
promise alluded to earlier of the Academy's special rela
tionship to the history of the School of Education.
The Graduate Council
The minutes of the School of Education Faculty Meet
ings have been preserved and collected only as far back
as September 19, 1923. Consequently, the decisions and
activities of the faculties and deans who functioned dur
ing the first five years of the School's existence--from
1918 to 1923--must be inferred from other sources which
antedate the collected minutes.^
^This lack of records is all the more regrettable be
cause evidence exists that School of Education Faculty
Meetings convened prior to 1923. One set of minutes, that
for September 20, 1921, has somehow been saved. Its con
tent and the extrapolations therefrom reveal some of the
fascination of historical research. The following
140
One source that has been preserved is the accumula
tion of records of the Graduate Council, a body whose
history parallels and probably reflects the content of
the missing minutes. Fortunately, the story of the Grad
uate Council has been carefully and systematically set
forth by Dr. Allison Gaw, late Professor of English, mem
ber of the Graduate Council, and, at the time of writing
his study of the Council, in 1935, Group Chairman of the
University * s Department of English, Comparative Litera-
excerpts are especially apropos:
Prof. Lunt suggested that Dr. Rogers, Dr. Storm-
zand. Prof. Morgan and Dr. Cummins supplement the
discussion in the regularly assigned Faculty Meet
ings by the presentation of special topics from
time to time. It was also suggested that at least
once a month, arrangements should be made to secure
the attendance of the group of Elementary Teachers
at this meeting.
Dr. Rogers suggested that the next meeting of
the Department should include those members of the
Faculty who were conducting Departmental Teacher
Courses.
From several phrases in the quoted sections, it may be
inferred that "regularly assigned meetings" were held;
that these occurred at least, if not more than, "once a
month": and that until that time, if not thereafter,
meetings were attended by rather a restricted group. If
from these fragments so much can be mustered, how profit
able it might have been to have the others!
141
ture, Journalism, and Speech (Gaw, p. I).
Any work which purports to contribute to an under
standing of the School of Education must take into account
the evolution of the graduate program at the University
of Southern California. The men who were instrumental in
creating and propagating the School of Education compre
hended the mutual dependence between graduate study in
liberal arts and teacher education. They must have anti
cipated the insistence by the State Board’s select com
mittee upon "more definite organization of the graduate
department," for they lent forceful leadership to the
movement toward formalization of requirements for gradu
ate work.
The incidence of graduate study had been sporadic
prior to 1909, with only a handful of master’s degrees
having been awarded. Of interest is that the first of
these went in 1887 to George Finley Bovard, later Presi
dent of the University for some eighteen years, in the
course of his tenure, a persuasive advocate in the effort
to gain teacher training accreditation. The first record
of a "Committee on Graduate Studies" of the College of
Liberal Arts which goes beyond consideration of an iso
142
lated instance of graduate metriculation is of a meeting
on September 28, 1909. The business of that meeting is
mainly immaterial here, but its constituency is distinctly
relevant. For its chairman was Dr. Hoose, and among its
members was Dr. Stowel1. The fact that Dr. Hoose sat as
chairman is but further confirmation that his interests
were wide-ranging and his influence formidable. However,
since Dr. Stowell was listed only as a member, the extent
of his participation is less apparent and calls for more
detailed recounting.
From the inception of the Graduate Council and of
the Committee on Graduate Studies which was its precursor.
Dr. Stowell was a dynamic force in promulgating a substan
tial and respectable graduate program, as he often single-
handedly overcame inertia or lethargy or downright resist
ance. Many instances of Dr. Stowell's leadership are a
matter of record; three will be set forth briefly. The
first came on the heels of a meeting on November 16, 1909,
when the Committee on Graduate Studies declined to be ag
gressive in advocating formalized graduate programs. Just
two months later, on January 7, 1910, Dr. Stowell, acting
as a subcommittee of one, presented a concrete program
143
for the Master of Arts degree, which the committee prompt
ly adopted. One month later, again acting alone. Dr.
Stowell convincingly reported on the question of a defin
ite graduate program for the University. And still later,
at perhaps the high point of his leadership--but not its
termination--the University, largely at his behest and in
what Gaw has called the "epoch-making step" in the accel
erated development of graduate study, applied to the State
Board of Education for authorization to issue recommenda
tions for high school teachers' certificates (Gaw, pp.
16-17).
How that application came to succeed after some delay
has been described above. In the interim, while the ap
plication was being submitted, considered, resubmitted,
reconsidered and finally approved. Dr. Stowell labored to
effect the recommendations of the State Board's select
committee, especially those bearing on the organization
of the graduate department of the University. On October
25, 1910, this time collaborating with Dr. Rockwell D.
Hunt, later Dean of the Graduate School and long a pro
ponent of a distinct division of a graduate study, Dr.
Stowell presented the subcommittee's recommendations for
144
organizing a graduate department. The result was the
creation of the Graduate Council to supplant the Committee
on Graduate Studies as of December 1910 and to perform the
following tasks:
1. "to fix conditions of admission to the Graduate
Department";
2. "to provide courses of graduate instruction, and
to pass judgment upon the graduate courses offered by the
respective departments, no one of which courses shall be
come operative without the approval of the Council";
3. "to pass upon the credentials of all candidates
for graduate degrees";
4. "to establish and maintain the requirements for
all graduate degrees"; and
5. "to formulate regulations for the effective or
ganization and administration of the Graduate Department"
(Gaw, p. 21).
Unfortunately, after Dr. Hoose had been named chair
man of the Graduate Council, he found it necessary to re
linquish the chair because of infirmity. The post remain
ed officially his for a time although President Bovard
conducted the meetings. But the letter's responsibilities
145
to the University as a whole were too great for him to
continue in this capacity, and the need for a regular
chairman was pressing. At last, on February 11, 1911, the
State Board approved the University's application. On
February 20, with the venerable Dr. Hoose attending and
Dr. Bovard presiding, Dr. Stowell, fresh from his success
in Sacramento and enabled thereby to undertake neglected
administrative duties, upon Dr. Hoose's tender of resig
nation, was appointed chairman of the Graduate Council.
It should surprise no one that in the ensuing delib
erations of the Graduate Council, decisions were made
which were to prepare for the still-to-be-created School
of Education. Under Dr. Stowell's chairmanship and in
accordance with its mandate, the Council acted to spell
out and implement his program for the Master of Arts de
gree, subsequently providing in meticulous detail for a
master's thesis. A matter bearing directly on teacher
education concerned how much advance credit should be
given to normal school graduates who wished to obtain Uni
versity-endorsed credentials; the Council resolved that
problem by interpreting the State Department of Educa
tion's requisite of one half year of graduate study as
146
being met by a minimum of thirteen hours of graduate
study. A new course-numbering system was devised and
adopted. The summer session was made an integral part of
the University's program and calendar, effective in the
summer of 1912. And so on went the work of the Graduate
Counsil, structuring and building the graduate program
and setting the stage for the entrance of the School of
Education (Gaw, pp. 21-32, passim.)
The Summer Session
The summer session, like the Academy and the Gradu
ate Council itself, deserves special mention. How public
school teachers and University faculty had cooperated to
initiate it has been noted. The summer session and
teacher education continued in their unique relationship.
In recognition of that fact. Dr. Stowell was appointed
director of the newly formalized summer session in 1912--
this in addition to his chairmanship of the Department of
Education and of the Graduate Council. By 1917, the sum
mer session was attracting renowned visiting Professors
of Education to the campus, thus both affirming the qual
ity of the offerings and adding dignity to them. That
147
summer, courses in Education were taught by Dr, Richard G.
Boone of the University of California, Dr. Ernest C. Moore
of Harvard, and Dr. Grace M. Fernald of the Los Angeles
State Normal School, the last-mentioned being one of the
great innovators in the field of reading remediation
(Alumni Magazine, June 1917, p. 37).^
The Teachers' Appointment Registry
And still another act of anticipatory recognition of
the special nature and scope of teacher education occurred
in 1917 when the University administration saw fit to open
a Teachers' Appointment Registry "to aid teachers in se
curing employment, and to put school officials in communi
cation with trained and experienced teachers" (Bulletin,
XIII, 4 [September 1918], p. 30). No employment assist
ance had previously been offered officially by the Uni
versity, nor would such service be added, other than as
For corroboration of Dr. Fernald's stature, see her
classic Remedial Techniques in Basic School Subjects
(1943) and the great Lewis M. Terman's introduction to it.
Therein, Dr. Terman ranks Dr. Fernald*s pioneer work on
word-blindness with Anne Sullivan Macy's deliverance of
Helen Keller, calling both "most notable achievements in
the history of education" (p. vii).
148
an offshoot of the Registry, until 1927, when the Univers
ity-wide Bureau of Employment was founded, "the purpose
of which was to obtain positions for alumni as well as
undergraduates" (Henley and Neelley, p. 111). But more
will emerge in later pages about how the Registry altered,
expanded, and evolved during the years until 1953.^
Precedent
These acts of acknowledgement by the University were
only a prelude to a larger recognition to follow. Prece
dent in California had already been set in their respect
ive cases by the University of California and Stanford
University.
At the University of California the Academic Senate
It is probably indicative of some degree of schol
arly detachment that general employment assistance was
not authorized by the University outside the Registry (or
through the Appointment Secretary, successor to the Reg
istry), except as provided informally by the College of
Commerce and the "Y's," for ten years after it was begun
in 1917 by Miss Joanna Nixon, '17. Miss Nixon apparently
understood the need firsthand, for she voluntarily offered
free employment services to all students who applied for
work during the week preceding registration. So success
ful was the enterprise, says the Alumni Magazine of June
1917, "that it was decided to continue the movement
throughout the college year" (p. 30). (See, also. Alumni
News, IV, 2 [March 1923], p. 10).
149
had voted on March 11, 1913, to adopt the term "School of
Education" for the group of professional courses in Educa
tion provided for prospective school administrators, for
prospective normal school or university department of edu
cation faculty, and for normal school graduates pursuing
further preparation for elementary school teaching
(O'Leary, 1941, p. 374). This action marked the formal
establishment of the School of Education of the Univers
ity of California. Full professional school status was
to come eight years later, in 1920-21, when the degree
of Doctor of Education was authorized (O'Leary, p. 389).
At Stanford, the University Board of Trustees ap
proved the organization of a School of Education on April
27, 1917. To tell a long story very briefly, from its
inception, Stanford's School of Education had full pro
fessional status, including the power to recommend ad
vanced degrees through the Doctor of Philosophy (O'Leary,
pp. 304-309).
At the University of Southern California, the Board
of Trustees was by now ready to take the one great step
in the history of the University which is of special in
terest here but which, despite its augury of momentous
150
ness, seems to have gone and long remained largely un
noticed and unrecognized by all save an involved few.
Still, for that few and especially for Dr. Stowell, the
event meant the realization of a dream that he, his pre
decessors, and his colleagues had dreamt and had worked
for tirelessly--it may seem maudlin to say so--for almost
two decades.
At its meeting in June, 1918, acting on the recom
mendation of President Bovard, the Board of Trustees
authorized the establishment of a School of Education.
Dr. Thomas Blanchard Stowell, Professor of Education,
Chairman of the Department of Education, Chairman of the
Graduate Council, and Director of the Summer Session,
acceded to the Deanship of the new School.
151
CHAPTER V
EARLY YEARS OF THE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
The Name
One decision the trustees had to make when they
authorized creation of the new addition to the University
was to choose a name for it. A few considerations had a
bearing on the choice. One was that the new entity de
rived from a department which continued to function with
in the College of Liberal Arts. Another was that it would
be headed by a dean. But since it would continue to oper
ate mainly under the aegis of the College of Liberal Arts,
it would not be a college in and of itself. Or would it?
What would the use of the name college entail? What de
signations other than college might be more apt, and
what might their implications be?
The questions posed above are only the creatures of
conjecture, for no available evidence reveals how the
name of the School of Education was selected over other
possibilities. But something of the reasoning behind the
152
choice may be inferred from a differentiation between a
college of education, a teachers college, and a school of
education. While the differences between these entities
may be of little moment when viewed within the broad spec
trum of the university study of education (cf., Eurich,
O'Leary, and Samuels, for example), differences that are
germane to the present study do exist.
The late Dean Hull made a nice distinction when he
spoke of his firsthand observations of other institutions.
"[Ijn 1930," he said,
I visited every major university in the United
States. My sabbatical research problem was this
whole matter of teacher education and coordina
tion where the school of education and liberal
arts go together on [teacher education]. I found
all possible variations .... [T]here was . . .
rivalry to the point where in some universities
they started what they called the "college of
education" [which] gave all the liberal arts as
well as the pedagogy (Hull, 1968).
So a college of education is an educational arm of
a university which provides a total curriculum leading to
a degree in education, with minimum reliance upon other
colleges of the university for courses. A constituent
college of education may borrow faculty from other col
leges within the university via dual appointments to teach
153
the courses it must offer in academic disciplines and in
professional fields other than education, or it may em
ploy its own staff or subject matter specialists outright.
Dean Hull mentioned New York University as one institution
he found to be independently staffed when he visited there
some years later, during his tenure as Dean of the School
of Education.
As to the term teachers college, it had been pre
empted by the state normal schools during their conversion
to collegiate status (see Harper and Merlino). The only
"Teachers College" affiliated with a major private uni
versity was Columbia's, and the name was a carryover from
a pre-existing "professional school" (Cremin et al.,
p. 25, and above). Like college of education, the name
teachers college connotes distinctiveness in organiza
tional structure and in intra-university relationships.
The salient feature of the status of Teachers College,
Columbia University, has been a high degree of autonomy
in relation to the university, within the meaning of the
word college.^
^In its merger agreement with Columbia University,
154
On the other hand, a school of education is less de
tached than either a college of education or a teachers
college. The operational difference, essentially is that
a school of education depends upon the university's lib
eral arts college to enroll education degree or credential
candidates in those courses required by the education cur
ricula. The respective college departments retain juris
diction over criteria for admission to their courses and
over standards of performance therein. Usually the ar
rangement between the school of education and the liberal
arts college is reciprocal, with students in the liberal
arts able to take electives or even a minor in education.
Comparable accommodations may exist between the school of
education and other colleges of the university.
Thus it may be said as a rule of thumb that a college
Teachers College "reserved the right to the exercise of
all powers conferred by its charter, and to a separate
board of trustees, and a large measure of financial inde
pendence" (O'Leary, p. 99), but without the power to grant
degrees. Since 1915, Teachers College has been a "sover
eign state" within the university, with jurisdiction over
students, faculty, curricula, and degrees, and with an ex
officio interlocking faculty arrangement which makes all
university professors ipso facto members of the Teachers
College faculty (Cremin et al., pp. 43, ff.).
155
of education or a teachers college is more inclusive in
its offerings and faculty and more exclusive in its
structure than a school of education.
Such was the case of the School of Education of the
University of Southern California. At its inception and
for years thereafter, it was subordinate to the College
of Liberal Arts and was listed in the Year Book under the
College's major heading together with those other infant
members of the University system, the Graduate School of
Arts and Science (organized on February 24, 1920 [Bul
letin, May 1921, p. 60]), Engineering and Architecture,
and the Summer Session, as well as with the University
High School (Bulletin, May 1921, p. 5).
First Faculty of the School of Education
In the beginning, as specified in its initial An
nouncement (rushed to press within a week of the Trustees*
action of authorization), the School of Education's fac
ulty was "composed of the faculty of the Department of
Education (College of Liberal Arts) together with the
heads of other departments concerned with the prepara
tion of teachers for intermediate schools, secondary
156
schools, and junior colleges" (Bulletin, XIII, 4 [Septem
ber 1918], p. 4).
Three categories of faculty were listed: "Officers
of Administration," "Professors in the Department of Edu
cation," and "Professors in the College of Liberal Arts
who give Teachers' Courses."
Of the Officers of Administration, President and
ex-officio head of the School of Education was George
Finley Bovard. Dean of the School of Education was Thomas
Blanchard Stowell. The Registrar was John Harold Mont
gomery. And the Principal of the University High School,
also a member of the administrative staff ex-officio, was
Hugh Carey Willett. However, Principal Willett was then
"on leave of absence, while in the military service of
the United States," so Howard Leslie Lunt was named Act
ing Principal for 1918-1919 (Builetin, September 1918,
p. 4).
The "Professors in the Department of Education,"
their degrees, their academic rank, and their special
responsibilities were as follows:
Thomas Blanchard Stowell, A.M., Ph. D., LL. D.
Dean, Professor of Education
157
Edgar Harold McMath, A. M.
Professor of Education
Festus Edward Owen, A. M.
Professor of Psychology
Hugh Carey Willett, A. M.
Principal of High School and Supervisor
of teaching Mathematics
Howard Leslie Lunt, A. M.
Associate Professor of Education and
Supervisor of teaching English and History
Carolyn Alehin
Professor of Harmony and Ear-Training
G. Vernon Bennett, A. M., J. D.
Lecturer
Ernest Jameson Lickley, A. M., LL. M., J. D.
Lecturer
(Builetin, September 1918, pp. 4-5).
Dual Professorial Affiliation and Duties
The "Professors in the College of Liberal Arts who
[gave ! Teachers' Courses" numbered seventeen; among them
were several who have already been mentioned in other con
nections or who will reappear later in this text. Three
familiar names are those of Emery Stephen Bogardus, Pro
fessor of Sociology; Allison Gaw, Professor of English;
and Tully Cleon Knoles, Professor of History (p. 5). Sup-
plementarily, five "Visiting Professors--Summer Session,
158
1919," were named, their affiliations ranging from
"Director of Physical Training, New York City Schools,"
to "Professor of Home Economics, University of Missouri"
(p. 6).
The idea of dual professorial affiliation and duties
seems to have come naturally to the faculty of the School
of Education. As early as 1911, professors in selected
departments of the College of Liberal Arts had taught
"teachers' courses" which were cross-catalogued in the
Year Book. In the section of the Year Book dedicated to
the Department of Education, these courses were listed
only as "Special Courses in Education" in Botany, English,
French, German, History, Latin, Mathematics, and Spanish,
respectively (Year Book, 1911-1912, p. 85), Their second
listings, within the respective departmental sections,
supplemented the titles with full course descriptions.
This practice of including the so-called "teachers'
courses" in the academic departments continued in much
the same way after the inception of the School of Educa
tion. The first Announcement presented an expanded list
--Chemistry, Drawing, Physics, and Zoology having been
added and German deleted--with the following paragraph of
159
explanation introducing the brief course descriptions:
Special Teachers' Courses in Methods are offered
by the professors in the several departments.
These courses are primarily for candidates for
the teachers' recommendation. They are purely
professional and may be credited for three se
mester units toward the required fifteen units.
They are not credited toward the degree of Master
of Arts (Bulletin, September 1919, p. 14).
The College of Liberal Arts' separate publication supplied
more elaborate course descriptions (Bulletin, May 1921,
"Year Book for 1920-1921" [XVI, 3], passim); following is
the entry for "English 295. The Teaching of English":
A study of problems, methods, materials, and bib
liography. Required of all inexperienced candid
ates for the High School Teachers' Certificate
offering English as a major. While this is not
held as a fixed requirement in the case of those
who have had at least seventeen months of satis
factory experience, such candidates are strongly
urged to enter the course unless they have re
cently had a survey of the modern literature upon
the subject. A graduate course, but not credited
toward the degree of Master of Arts. Gaw (p. 97).
Evidently, practices antedating the School of Educa
tion had been adopted almost casually as a matter of ex
pediency and had carried with them a pattern of dual pro
fessorial responsibility and affiliation. Unfortunately,
hard data are lacking on what deliberations, if any, con
firmed continuation of the pattern and gave direction;
160
so reliance must be upon parallel developments in other
institutions for data from which to draw inferences about
the decision-making processes that may have occurred at
the University of Southern California.
Allusion has been made in Chapter III to the fact
that at Columbia University the "Agreement of 1900" had
designated some members of the University faculty also
members of the Teachers College faculty and that one pro
fessor coincidentally so named was John Dewey (Cremin
et al., p. 73n.). Almost as early in adopting a similar
system was the University of Minnesota (Eurich, p. 99).
At Stanford University, a like plan had been put into
effect only a year before the University of Southern Cal
ifornia formalized its version with the founding of the
School of Education (O'Leary, p. 304).
These data--that interlocking faculties had been
functioning elsewhere before the School of Education's
arrangement and would be duplicated in still other insti
tutions later on (O'Leary, passim)--is intrinsically sig
nificant. But even more meaningful is the fact that at
each of the institutions named, adoption of its individual
plan had been carefully thought out and argued before it
161
became university policy (Cremin et al., Eurich, and
O'Leary). Information about deliberations and decisions
so crucial to the university study of education should
have been transmitted to their counterparts in other cen
ters of higher learning. If they were, then Dr. Stowell,
who had displayed astuteness in myriad related matters,
should have been privy to them and have informed his col
leagues about them. If all these assumptions cohere, it
follows that Dr. Stowell, his colleagues, and others in
the University deemed neither the precedent cited above
nor the philosophic foundation for it to be contradictory
to the actual operation or the philosophic posture of the
School of Education.
The inferences and the data and assumptions on which
they are based engender further questioning. Logically,
those members of the School of Education faculty having
dual responsibilities also had dual affiliations. Except
for the professors in the Department of Education itself,
for whom the School of Education was in all likelihood the
goal of their ambition, the loyalties and formal obliga
tions of other professors were first and foremost to their
respective departments within the College of Liberal Arts.
162
The question is, then: besides teaching an occasional
course for the School of Education, what had the profes
sors and their departments contracted to do for it? Or-
to pose the question in possibly a more relevant way--
what were the purposes of the School of Education as
visualized by its founders; and how were facilities, fac
ulties, courses, curricula, and organizational structure
expected to coalesce to serve these purposes?
Purposes of the School of Education
Some semblance of an answer appears in the first
Announcement in rather a primly pragmatic statement of
purposes which reads as follows :
The Professional Courses and the practice-teach
ing are intended primarily for :
1. College graduates preparing to become
teachers in the secondary schools and junior
colleges of California. . . .
2. Normal School graduates who are qualify
ing for increased efficiency as teachers in the
elementary schools,
3. Experienced teachers who are seeking to
familiarize themselves with current educational
thought and methods.
4. Teachers who are preparing to engage in
school administration.
5. Candidates who are preparing to teach
in the upper grades and in intermediate schools
(Bulletin, September 1918, p. 4).
Unfortunately, the quotation contains no sign that
163
anyone who might have had a hand in writing the Announce
ment thought to include a statement regarding the philo
sophic implications of the founding of a school of educa
tion. But if the literal statement of purpose is seasoned
with the historical background covered in Chapter 111 and
the inferences drawn and noted in the pages just con
cluded, the quotation takes on a flavor of implication
which may be stated as follows:
A need existed outside the University which the
Department of Education of the College of Liberal Arts
was increasingly unable to meet in its previous status
and size. The need had been conveyed to concerned members
of the faculty both directly and indirectly. Those so in
formed recognized the need, adjudged it as falling within
the University's responsibility, and were willing and
ready to urge the University to place itself in a position
of being able to meet the need. The University's wholly
favorable response was to create the School of Education
in order to provide facilities, faculty, courses, and cur
ricula so that each of the five classes of candidates
enumerated in the statement of purposes might secure the
training and education they required and desired.
164
To return momentarily to the subject of dual profes
sorial affiliation, why should the professors of liberal
arts at the University of Southern California have en
dorsed the purposes and cooperated willingly in the pro
grams of the School of Education? To do so was to run
counter to much of the sentiment among their counterparts
in other universities (cf., for example, Auerbach's find
ings discussed in Chapter 111). The answer lies partly
in Chapter IV's record of the extent to which professors
of Education had lent leadership to the development of a
graduate program at the University of Southern California.
To quote Chapter IV, "The men who were instrumental in
creating and propagating the School of Education compre
hended the mutual dependence between graduate study in
liberal arts and teacher education." Under the successive
Graduate Council chairmanships of Doctors Hoose and Stow
ell, liberal arts professors' commitment to graduate stud
ies deepened (Gaw, p. 18). The professors knew, moreover,
that without teachers-in-training and experienced teachers
studying at the University, the graduate program would be
skeletal at best. To illustrate, on Commencement Day,
June 7, 1917, of the 584 recipients of degrees, diplomas.
165
and certificates, 135 received High School Teachers'
Certificates and only 38 received Master of Arts degrees,
or on the order of about three and a half to one (Alumni
Magazine, June 1917, p. 65). Therefore, since the School
of Education was "designed primarily for graduate stu
dents" (Bulletin, September 1918, p. 6), enrollment in
graduate liberal arts classes by those studying for cer
tificates or by teachers expanding their educational
horizons facilitated a viable graduate program (cf., for
example, the singular role of teachers in inaugurating
summer classes described in Chapter IV and Dean Hunt's
quoted comments on Education and graduate study at the
University).
Besides graduate students in Education, undergradu
ates who planned to become teachers also served the in
terests of the liberal arts professors. The impression
is strong that issuance of the University's recommendation
for a teachers certificate hinged as much upon satisfying
liberal arts departmental requirements as upon completing
the Department of Education's own short list of required
courses and practice teaching. For among the closing
paragraphs of each department's section in the College of
166
Liberal Arts bulletin was one headed "Requirements for
the High School Teachers' Recommendation" which prescribed
a set of courses that was equal in unit count to a major
in the department but was more severely limited and far
2
less flexible in its options. The School of Education
Announcement explained that "[t]he departmental require
ments . . . [were] in addition to the technical require
ments laid down by the State Board of Education" (Bullet
in, September 1918, p. 8).
Why was this so? The School of Education's official
explanation put it on a scholarly basis:
The University of Southern California requires
as preliminary to any recommendation for the
teachers' certificate, the completion of enough
work (and of sufficiently high grade) in at least
one subject to secure a University recommendation
2
The Department of Economics' specifications should
suffice as an example. They were as follows: "An under
graduate major including Economics. lab, Principles; 2,
Money and Banking; 3, Public Finance; 101, Municipal Prob
lems; 102, Labor Problems, or 113, Reconstruction; 104,
Corporation Finance, and 105, Railway Transportation, or
106 and 107, Ocean Transportation and Business Organiza
tion; and a full year course elected from Economics; 200,
Seminar, History of Economic Thought, or 202, Recent Eco
nomic Theory" (Bulletin, May 1921, p. 81). The non-teach
ing major in Economics had no such list of requisites,
but simply said "Thirty Units."
167
that the candidate is fitted to teach the sub
ject in high school classes (Bulletin, Septem
ber 1918, p. 8).
But (to inject a word of conjecture) is it not pos
sible, additionally, and even probable--given the climate
of academic attitudes toward "educationists" already
abroad in the nation--that to enlist liberal arts profes
sors in designing special teaching majors and to depend
upon departmental endorsement of certification candidates
were honest but purposeful gestures of conciliation made
by the professors of Education toward their friends in the
liberal arts?
To develop this line of reasoning further, that the
School of Education was "designed primarily for graduate
students" has been noted. However, its offerings were not
exclusively for graduate students; College of Liberal Arts
undergraduates who had reached junior standing were en
couraged to enroll in classes in the School of Education.
For students who were certificate candidates, the under
graduate work in Education would be distributed through
two college years before graduate courses in Education
could be undertaken. Other interested undergraduates in
the College of Liberal Arts were invited to elect Educa-
168
tion courses according to the following rationale:
While the courses in the School of Education are
primarily professional, many of them may also
serve non-professional ends, being conducive to
general culture and to preparation for such intel
ligent interest in elementary and advanced educa
tion as is demanded of educated men and women
(Bulletin, September 1918, p. 6).
The study of Education as an element of a liberal educa-
tion--here, then, was still another ground for maintaining
a friendly and workable reciprocal relationship with the
liberal arts professors I
The kind of expediency hypothesized in these consid
erations was not just crass opportunism. On the contrary,
since its goals were cordial relationships, effective co
operation, excellent programing, and superlative products,
it was on the order of an altruistic pragmatism. If it
were so, it would be consonant with how the founders of
the School of Education operated and with the way they
have been accorded recognition herein as men who combined
practicality with a prevailing sense of dedication to
their institution and to their profession. In the situa
tion described, expediency could be and was justified in
the name of the high standards of the University, and the
interlocking faculty arrangement worked as the School of
169
Education became an integral part of the University system
of higher education.
First Courses and Curricula of the School of Education
To resume inspection of the initial makeup of the
School of Education, a look at course offerings other than
the academic departments' teachers' courses is in order.
The principal data source is once more the first Announce
ment of the School of Education.
Before the inception of the School of Education, a
new course numbering system had been adopted by the Col
lege of Liberal Arts at the behest of the Graduate Council
(see Chapter IV). The School of Education designated its
courses in the lOO's and 200's. "Courses 100-199, inclus
ive, [were] open to upper division and graduate students
only. Courses 200-207, inclusive, [were] open to gradu
ates only" (Bulletin, September 1918, p. 10). There was
one Education Department; therefore, all Education courses
were listed as within the single department regardless of
the areas of concentration. A few liberal arts courses
on subjects that were intimately related to the study of
education but were not special teachers' courses were
170
dually listed, once in the College of Liberal Arts bul
letin and again in the School of Education Announcement,
with the fact of their double service duly noted. Two
such courses were Dr. Bogardus' "Education 114. Principles
of Sociology," and "Education 120. Americanization and Im
migration," both of which were likewise listed by the
Sociology Department.
In all, thirty-two 100-level courses and eight 200-
level courses were enumerated. A glance at the listings
(see Footnote III) reveals that at the undergraduate
level, most were basic courses in educational principles,
educational history, school organization, administration
and supervision, and general and special methodology.
Graduate offerings variously delved more deeply into the
philosophy of education, introduced comparative education
("Education 204. Administration of National School Sys
tems"), examined school surveys, included the course in
secondary education "designed primarily to meet the needs
of candidates for the high school certificate" (p. 13),
and provided practice teaching at the University High
School. In addition, requirements for the major in Edu
cation and the Master of Arts degree in Education were
171
3
spelled out (pp. 10-13, passim).
In contrast, certificate requirements were modest.
To be recommended for the Elementary Certificate, the
candidate must have earned a "bachelor's degree from a
university accredited by the State Board" and have in
cluded (or taken subsequently) "twelve units in Pedagogy
prescribed by the Board" or have completed "ten months'
successful experience in teaching" (Bulletin, September
1918, p. 9).
For a "permit to teach in intermediate schools"^
sixty units of college level work were required: thirty
An undergraduate major took thirty units, including
the following required courses: Education 102, Fundament
al Psychology (3 units); 103. Principles of Education (3);
104. Principles of Secondary Education (3), or 123. High
School Problems (5); 105. History of Education; Ancient
and Medieval (2); 106. History of Education; Modern(2);
108. School Organization, Administration, Supervision,
and Management (2); or 108a. School Organization (2); and
one teachers' course drawn from those offered by the vari
ous departments (1-2) (pp. 13-14), For the Master of Arts
degree, in addition to the undergraduate major, the gradu
ate curriculum must have included Education 200 or 201.
Philosophy of Education (3); 204. Administration of Na
tional School Systems (2); 203. Secondary Education (2),
or 205. School Surveys (2); 206. Statistical Methods (2);
207 Seminar (2); and a thesis (p. 13).
'^"[Tjhe Los Angeles junior high schools were origin
al ly called 'Intermediate Schools'" (Sargent, p. 70).
172
in a normal school, which ordinarily would include peda
gogy, plus thirty in the College of Liberal Arts including
"ten units each in any two of the following departments:
English, French, Spanish, Latin, History, Mathematics,
Physical Science, Biological Science"; or "sixty semester
units in the College of Liberal Arts including ten units
of Pedagogy" and ten units each in any three of the de
partments listed above (p. 9).
For the High School Teachers' Certificate, there
were five discrete and rather complex groups of candi
dates; Group 1-Standard, Group 2-Normal Graduate, Group
3-Experienced Teacher, Group 4-Special Normal Course, and
Group 5-Library School Group. For each group, the bach
elor's degree, satisfaction of the departmental require
ments, and one year of graduate work or its equivalent
were basic. Requirements in Education Courses varied from
eleven units for Group 3 to fifteen units for Groups 1 and
5; the fifteen unit package must have included School Man
agement (2 units). Secondary Education (2), Teachers'
Course in the major subject (2-3), and Practice Teaching
(4) (pp. 7-9). In each case, care had been taken to see
that knowledge of subject matter and familiarity with
173
public education combined with teaching experience to pro
duce a well-rounded teacher.
In addition to the "bread-and-butter" certificate
programs, four others were outlined as obtainable through
the School of Education. These were the "Special Second
ary School Certificates" stipulated in "Bulletin No. 10"
of the State Board of Education and designated as "Types"
according to their areas of specialization. The School of
Education was authorized and equipped to prepare teachers
of Mechanical Drawing (Manual and Fine Arts Type); Oral
and Dramatic Expression (Miscellaneous Type); Physical
Education and Training, Play and Playground Management,
Athletics, Gymnastics, and Cadet Drill (Physical Culture
Type); and Electrical Engineering or Civil Engineering
(Technical Arts Type) (pp. 17-21). In 1919, the "Division
of Music Type was added to this group (Bulletin, March
1919, p. 60).
The University High School
The first Announcement contained other important
sections. The major one pertained to the University High
School (pp. 21-29). Of significance to the history of
174
secondary education in Southern California is that the
University High School was in 1918 an admixture of tra
ditionalism and progressivism in its philosophy and
programs.
As stated in the Announcement, the immediate aim of
the University High School was "to prepare its students
for entrance to the various colleges of the University"
(p. 21). In this, it was practical and progressive for
its time. On the other hand, traditionalism held sway in
fixed prescriptions of course content, with textbooks used
and works to be studied included explicitly in each course
description.^ Philosophically, the departments were be
hind the times in subscribing to the already discredited
notions of faculty psychology that "[ejvery individual
L has j a faculty for logic, reasoning, memory, and so on.
Educational subject matter existed to 'train' and develop
one or more of these faculties" (Edwards and Scannell,
^Quite typically. Second Year Greek read as follows;
"Xenophon's Anabasis, Books I-IV. Practice in sight read
ing. Oral and written prose compositions based on the
text. Texts; Goodwin and White's 'Xenophon's Anabasis';
Goodwin's 'Greek Grammar'; Pearson's 'Greek Prose Composi
tion'" (p. 24).
175
1968, p. 365).^ Evidence exists that the recitation
method persisted (Bulletin, March 1919, p. 27), However,
even where recitation was mentioned as a standard tech
nique, more modern methods were also listed.^
A persuasive sign of flexibility and openmindedness
in the administration of the University High School is its
set of graduation requirements. There is evidence that
the makers of the high school curriculum subscribed to the
"elective system" which was in vogue in American higher
education during this period (see Hofstadter and Hardy,
pp. 51-56; Brubacher and Rudy [1958J, pp. 110-112) in the
^According to the Mathematics Department, "The aim of
the course in Mathematics [was] to cultivate the habits of
independent reasoning, of accuracy of work, and of preci
sion and clearness in the statement of conclusions and of
reasons upon which they depend. First in importance is
the intellectual training that makes the mind a ready and
keen tool ; second, the orderly acquisition of facts. Ab
solute thoroughness and work that increases in amount and
difficulty with the student's increasing capacity are re
quired" (p. 26). The English Department contended that
"[ijt is axiomatic that every one, for the sake of culti
vating a consistent habit of thinking, should be taught
how to write . . ." (p. 22),
^For example, in Science, "experimental demonstration"
(p. 27); in English, "an effort on the part of instructors
to create real situations as a basis for real motives for
effort in speaking and writing" (p. 23).
176
fact that seven of the fifteen units required for gradua
tion were to be electives (Builetin, September 1918,
p. 22).8
Other Components
The closing sections of the first Announcement made
brief mention of the Teachers* Appointment Registry
(p. 30), described as an available service differing very
little from that which pre-existed as described in a pre
vious chapter, the Summer Session of the College of Lib
eral Arts (p. 30),^ and the Reserve Officers' Training
Corps (p. 31).^^
^Consistent with its tradition of service to public
school teachers and administrators, the Summer Session
declared itself ready to meet the needs of "the following
classes of persons;
"1. Teachers who desire to familiarize themselves
with foundational principles and with modern methods
of teaching.
"2. Teachers who desire a more comprehensive grasp
of departmental subjects.
"3. School superintendents and other school off
icers who are seeking increased efficiency.
"4. Directors of military tactics, gymnasiums,
vocal music, physical training and playgrounds"
(p. 30).
^^The story of military training at the University of
Southern California during this period is a fascinating
one. The School of Education Announcement cited above
177
concluded its mention of the Reserve Officers'
Training Corps with the following terse clarification:
"Just as this bulletin is going to press the an
nouncement is made by the War Department that the above
unit has been superceded by the Students' Army Reserve
Corps which will do substantially the same work" (p. 31).
Behind the change of form and name and its innocuous
announcement were some extraordinary trends which reached
a culmination some months later in events described in
the Alumni Magazine of December 1919 as follows:
"Military training at the University has had both
climax and anticlimax. The climax came on October 1,
1918, when nearly one thousand student-soldiers on Bovard
Field took the oath of allegiance to the nation, and en
tered upon active training as members of the Student Army
Training Corps. . . . The anti-climax came one year later
--one year almost to the day--when two hundred men of the
first and second year classes, urged on by a few radical
leaders, plotted to remain away from required military
drill, and by their 'walkout' force the University to
abandon its policy of military training for every able-
bodied freshman and sophomore.
"That the 'walk-out' did not materialize is no fault
of the students. They won an easy victory without the
necessity of putting into action any of their 'Bolshev
istic ' plans. A petition, drawn up by the more conserv
ative element among the conspirators, praying for release
from required military drill, gained favorable consider
ation on the part of the University authorities, and all
courses in the Department of Military Science were placed
on the elective list.
"The future of military training at the University
is in the balance. . , . [Tjhe University [may] be com
pelled to write 'finis' to a policy inspired by the best
patriotic motives, which waxed strong under the stimulus
of a war motive, but which waned with surprising rapid
ity when projected into times of peace" (pp. 20-21).
178
The Deanship of the New School of Education
How an individual administrator or a distinguished
or controversial professor may affect the policies, pro
grams, student population, and public image of an institu
tion of higher education has been amply demonstrated in
the past as in modern times and copiously documented (see
Brubacher and Rudy, Hofstadter and Metzger, Cremin et al.,
back and current issues of the AAUP Bulletin, and almost
any news magazine or daily newspaper of the last several
years). Quoted earlier herein in another context is Mon
roe’s pertinent observation, based on years of experience
and research, that "what was done or not done in certain
institutions could be explained largely in terms of the
president’s lack of interest in teacher education and/or
the personal and scholarly qualities of the head of the
education unit" (Monroe, p. 322). Hungerford's disserta
tion, after reviewing the literature on how university
presidents affected the histories of their developing in
stitutions, explores the ways that Rufus B. von Klein-
Smid*s distinctive qualities shaped the history of the
University of Southern California. For its part* the
179
present work has set forth in Chapter IV Professors Hoose
and Stowe 11’s instrumental roles in creating and molding
the character of the School of Education. These examples
of both parallel and immediate documentation only sample
the many that might be cited, but they are sufficient to
establish the premise that the Deanship of the School of
Education has held the potential for pivotal contributions
to the history of education.
If the premise is accepted as tenable, then the pre
sent study must pay close attention to the men who suc
cessively filled that important post. Already noted is
that "br. Stowell was the first Dean. Chapter IV*s account
of his vigorous advocacy and leadership during the forma
tive years might lead one to believe that Dr. Stowell was
a young man with an inexhaustible supply of energy. The
impression is incorrect. In point of fact, by the time
his labors on behalf of the founding of the School of Edu
cation had reached fruition in 1918, he was seventy-two
years old, well past the age which in modern times would
long since have mandated retirement from the faculty of
180
the University of Southern California! The record shows
that even as he assumed the office of Dean, Dr. Stowell
knew that he could not for long provide even nominal lead
ership to the new School of Education. "A slowly advanc
ing disease that--a man of science as well as a teacher--
he had long recognized as attacking him, forced him to
tender his resignation to the administration at the close
of the year 1918-1919, and retire with the title of Dean
Emeritus ..." (Gaw, p. 34).
So the new School was faced with the task of choosing
a new Dean. The first published sign that a choice had
been made was an obscure Page 3 notice in the Southern
California Trojan of March 7, 1919, (X,5) that Dr. Wallace
Franklin Jones had been appointed Dean of the School of
Education. The first publicly official sign was the ap
pearance of Dr. Jones' name among the faculty of the Sum
mer Session of 1919 as Visiting Professor of Education,
^The 1961 Revision of the University's Faculty Hand
book stipulates that the "automatic retirement age" is
sixty-five and that "any person attaining the age of re
tirement [may] be retained . . . at not to exceed a one-
year appointment, each succeeding year, until the age of
70" by administrative action.
181
with the further notation appended: "Dean Elect of the
School of Education, University of Southern California"
(Bulletin, March 1920, p. 46). A more comprehensive in
troduction to the newly designated Dean took the form of
a brief vitae in the December 1919 Alumni Magazine’s notes
on faculty affairs (p. 15), among which, coincidentally,
also appeared the report of Dr. and Mrs. Stowell’s golden
wedding celebration on August 3, 1919 (p. 14).
This is the manner in which the Alumni Magazine
announced the accession of the new administrative head
of the School of Education:
Dr. W. Franklin Jones, who succeeds Dr. Stowell
as Dean of the School of Education, began his
work at the University in the Summer Session of
1919.
Dr. Jones is a graduate of the University
of Illinois. He received the Master's degree
from Columbia University and the Doctor of Philo
sophy from that New York City University. Dr.
Jones engaged in educational work in Illinois from
1887 to 1907. In 1911 he became head of the De
partment of Education in the University of South
Dakota, a position which he resigned upon accept
ing the deanship at U. S. C. (p. 15).
Hindsight provides the intelligence that the item
which follows immediately after the one quoted above
would prove to be the more important to the present study;
for, again by a curious coincidence, it announced the
182
coming of Dr. Lester B. Rogers as Associate Professor of
Education. But more of Dr. Rogers later.
It should not be surprising that the School of Edu
cation went virtually unnoticed and unmentioned during
the school year 1919-1920. In the first place, the birth
of the new University constituent was apparently unknown
to most and of interest to few, as has been inferred at
the outset of this history. Moreover, concerns related
to the post-war spirit among the student body loomed
large. Such issues as the revolt against compulsory mili
tary drill, documented above, were certainly more dramatic
and important to the moment even if not more far-reaching
in the history of the School of Education. In the field
of student journalism, it was the era of the Yellow Dog
(g. V . ) and the bylines of those fearless reporters, "I
Findem Out" and "Lank N. Lean." Students were harrassing
the University with demands made in mock-seriousness; the
Yellow Dog enlisted support for its platform of no col
lateral reading, no term papers, no examinations, and no
grades by contending that they were detrimental to stu
dents' physical and mental health.
Of interest to students of this period in the hist
183
ory of the School of Education should be the knowledge
that during his abbreviated tenure as Dean, Dr. Jones
took time out to perform an experiment--as reported, in
all seriousness--on the effects of examinations on stu
dents' health. He subjected an experimental group of
students to measures of blood pressure, heartbeat, and
"neurone stability." In a lengthy, in-depth interview.
Dr. Jones reassuringly explained to a student reporter
that the results of the experiment "proved" examinations
were not dangerous to student health; the details of that
interview, including Dr. Jones' quoted comments, were
then published on Page 1, Column 1, in the Southern
California Trojan (February 19, 1920, pp. 1 and 4).
Dr. Jones' stay at the University was so brief that
his presence, his activities, and his achievements as
Dean went largely unnoticed and unrecorded and, hence,
must remain unrecognized. Neither the Thompson manu
script nor the Thompson interview acknowledges his pre
sence. Perhaps it is because Dr. Jones' name never ap
peared in a School of Education Announcement. The Dean's
Office's bound collection of Announcements and the Uni
versity Library collection of Builetins both show that
184
the school year 1919-1920 was skipped. The Announcements
are sequential for 1918-1919, 1921-1922, 1923-1924 (Bul
letins , September 1918, October 1921, and October 1923,
respectively), and so on, accordingly. Thus no inferences
can be drawn from the contents of an Announcement for
which Dr. Jones might have been responsible, for none was
published under his aegis. And since faculty meeting
minutes do not begin until well into the next Dean's
tenure, the sum total of available resources on Dean W.
Franklin Jones amounts to a handful of mentions of hardly
more than casual character. The reasons for, the date
of, and the destination of his departure are buried some
where in the past--perhaps another researcher will seek
the answers. For the present work, however, it need be
noted only that Dr. Jones came, acceded to the Deanship,
served a year, left, and was succeeded by Dr. Lester
Burton Rogers.
Lester Burton Rogers
Lester Burton Rogers had come to the University of
Southern California in 1919 on leave of absence from
Lawrence College, Appleton, Wisconsin, where he had
served as Professor of Education for seven years (Alumni
185
Magazine, October 1920, p. 12). Despite his apparent
caution in not severing his ties with Lawrence College,
Dr. Rogers was received, surprisingly, not as a visiting
professor but with regular status and academic rank at
the level of associate professor (Alumni Magazine, De
cember 1919, p. 15).
Circumstances enabled the University to put Dr.
Rogers' versatility and administrative abilities to the
test soon after his arrival. It happened that the man
who had long served as Chairman of the Department of Psy
chology, Professor Festus E. Owen, became gravely ill and
resigned the chairmanship he had held. Dr. Rogers was
called upon to act as chairman until the question of Pro
fessor Owen's health was resolved or until a new permanent
chairman was recruited. Sadly for the University, Profes
sor Owen died during the year, and Dr. Rogers remained in
the acting capacity until the appointment of Dr. John
Welhoff Todd as Professor and Chairman of the Department
of Psychology (Alumni Magazine, June 1920, p. 8, and
October 1920, p. 12).
So the School of Education had its new leader in
Lester Burton Rogers, whose credentials were substantial.
186
An 1899 graduate of Moore's Hill College in Indiana, he
had been teacher and then superintendent in Indiana rural
schools for a total of six years. This was followed by
three years as a high school teacher in Spokane, Washing
ton. A year's hiatus in New York earned him a Master of
Arts degree at Columbia University and was followed by a
three year assignment as Head of the Department of Philo
sophy and Education at Tri-State College in Angola, Indi
ana. Rogers then returned to Teachers College, Columbia,
for a year as a research scholar; spent a summer at Indi
ana University teaching secondary education; and began his
long affiliation with Lawrence College. During his stay
at Lawrence, he earned the Doctor of Philosophy degree
from Columbia University in 1915.
Initially, Dr. Rogers' designation as Dean was sup-
lemented by another responsibility, which revealed how
quickly the University had come to recognize his ability
and to rely upon it: he is listed in the Year Book for
1920-21 among the Officers of Administration as "Assistant
to the President and Dean of the School of Education"
(Builetin, XVI, 3 |May 1921], p. 17), Again, available
sources do not inform as to the nature of the duties
187
performed nor the scope of the responsibilities derived
from the post of Assistant to the President. Whatever
they may have been, however, they were short-lived; for
with the assumption of the University's Presidency by
Rufus Bernhard von KleinSmid on December 12, 1921, the
assignment apparently ended. At any rate, the Year Book
for 1921-1922 designates Dr. Rogers only as Dean of the
School of Education (Builetin, XVII, 4 [June 1922 1 ,
p . 10).
The first Bulletin published after Dr. Rogers' ac
cession to the Deanship of the School of Education con
taining its Announcements clearly demonstrates the vigor
of his leadership and the promptness of its assertion.
He had recruited and appointed a new University High
School Principal, Dr. Robert Alexander Cummins (whose
stay, however, was to be an abbreviated one).
Rogers had negotiated an agreement with the Los
Angeles City Schools "whereby student teaching in all the
elementary subjects [was] carried on under the personal
direction of the Principal of the 36^^^ Street school and
selected teachers who |acted j as critic teachers under
the general direction of the Principal and the School of
188
Education" (Bulletin, XVI, 8 [October 1921J, p. 9).
He had streamlined and delimited the course offerings
of the Department of Education. The first Announcement
of the School of Education, dated 1918-1919, included
such courses as Education 112. Interpretation and Expres
sion; 140. Harmony; 141. Advanced Harmony; 142. Tone
thinking and ear testing (Bulletin, September 1918, pp.
10-12). The first set of Announcements listing Dr. Rogers
as Dean, contained iii the Year Book for 1920-1921 (Bul
letin, May 1921), revealed that such courses had been
returned to their respective departments and that the
offerings of the Department of Education had been made
more convergent and more cohesive.
He had recruited, assigned, and developed staffs to
supervise student teaching in the elementary school and
the University High School, with Martin James Stormzand,
Associate Professor of Education, as General Director of
Student Teaching. Moreover, supervision in the high
school was according to subject matter specialization--
an innovation for the time--with Dr. Cummins, the Princi
pal, handling biological and physical sciences; Welcome
Agnes Tilroe. Assistant Principal, overseeing the teach
189
ing of Latin; Hugh Carey Willett, who had returned from
military service (see above) to a professorial assignment
in the Department of Mathematics, in mathematics; and
other specialists in art, English and History, home eco
nomics, modern languages, and oral English (Bulletin,
October 1921, pp. 4-5).
Dr. Rogers had apparently prevailed upon the various
academic departments of the College of Liberal Arts to
develop both "teaching-majors" and teaching-minors"
in their respective fields and to permit their inclusion
in the Bulletin (pp. 22-30). Following their listings in
the Builetin are other results of his efforts at intra-
University cooperation in outlines of full four-year cur
ricula comprising "Suggested Courses Leading to an A.B.
Degree which Fulfills Requirements for the Elementary and
Junior High School Credentials" (pp. 30-31) and for cer
tain of the Special Certificates (pp. 31-35),
He had succeeded in gaining extension of the
^^Teaching-majors and teaching-minors were provided in
biology, botany, chemistry, economics, English, French,
history, Latin, mathematics, physics, political science,
sociology, Spanish, and zoology.
190
California State Board of Education’s acceptance of Uni
versity recommendations for teachers' credentials--a
subject of no small concern from that day to this--to the
School of Education’s new patterns, designed to coincide
1 3
with the State Board’s newly altered regulations.
He had probably been instrumental in gaining recog
nition from the State Boards of Education of seven neigh
boring states: Arizona, Colorado, Montana, Nevada, New
Mexico, Oregon, and Washington, of the School of Educa
tion's teacher preparation programs; for the Bulletin
specified requirements for certain of their teaching cer
tificates in terms of the School’s offerings (pp. 13-15).
He had increased the scholarliness and thus the
prestige of the Master of Arts in Education by increasing
requirements at the graduate level from the eleven units
and a thesis established in 1918, to "Advanced courses in
l^By 1920, State Board regulations described creden
tials as falling within five categories: Elementary
School Certificate, Junior High School (the first appear
ance of this new term) Credential, High School Credential,
and Elementary and Secondary Special Certificates. The
last mentioned was in seven authorized groups, three more
than in 1919, in accord with new emphases at the state
level and new competencies within the University; two
such new groups were Commerce and Home Economy (p. 13).
191
Education, twelve units; thesis, four units; correlated
minor, four to six units; elective to make a total of
twenty-four units" (p, 8).
And he had by this time been joined on the faculty
of the Department of Education by Dr. George Herbert
Betts, Professor; Drs. Lunt and Stormzand, Associate
Professors; Dr. Cummins, Assistant Professor; Raymond B.
Miller, Instructor; and Miss Tilroe, Assistant Principal
of the University High School. Nellie I. Potter was then
Principal of the 36*^^ Street School (pp. 4-5).
The fact has been alluded to earlier that a lone
record exists of a Department of Education faculty meet
ing which occurred prior to 1923, the year that starts
the collected set. It is a fortunate coincidence that
the one early record is of the first meeting of the school
year 1921-1922, for the details set forth some of Dr.
Rogers' plans, purposes, and instructions for the new
year as well as some of the problems he foresaw. For
example, "[hje mentioned the further problems of the
Junior High School, and the special certificates which
still require adjustment." Additionally, "Dr. Rogers
called the attention of the Committee to the increased
192
facilities for a successful program in both high school
and elementary work"--in all likelihood a reference to
the new arrangement with the Los Angeles City Schools
for use of the 36^^^ Street School as a training facility
And finally,
Dr. Rogers outlined briefly some of his plans
for the organization of the department : He
stressed the need for more definite correlation
between the work pertaining to a teachnique | _ sicj
and method as given in the courses in Education
and the observation of the work of student teach
ing. To this end, each man who is offering
courses in Education should be linked up in some
way with the concrete teaching work. The student
teachers must have impressed upon them the fact
that while the method and teachnique [ sic] gained
from the theoretical class work is valuable,
still they must work out policies for themselves,
and develop iniative [sicJ in handling concrete
classroom problems (Minutes, September 20, 1921,
p. 1).14
First Reorganization of the School of Education
The early achievements and concerns of Dean Rogers
Out of respect for Miss Welcome A. Tilroe, then
Secretary Pro Tern and Secretary thereafter until 1927,
it should be noted that the apparent errors were probably
typographical, since other obvious ones appeared. But
teachnique, since it may have been a play on words,
merits preservation. The appearance of iniative in the
same paragraph suggests that both were only slips of the
fingers. So neither has been emended.
193
described above only hint at the scope of his ambition
for the School of Education and his pride in its stature
in the University family. A major achievement came when
the Board of Trustees in 1922 sanctioned the reorganiza
tion of the School of Education, effective with the school
year 1923-1924, and empowered it to admit students to can
didacy for "baccalaureate and higher degrees" (Bulletin,
XVIII, 8 [October 1923], p. 7).
An early reference to the official change appeared
in a memorandum for assistants in the Office of the
Registrar which has been made a part of the collected
Minutes of the School of Education. Although undated,
the memorandum contains data on the College of Commerce
which place it before September 1923. Its section rela-
vent to the School of Education reads in part as follows:
The School of Education is undergoing reorgan
ization. Full announcement of this reorganiza
tion will be made sometime during the coming
year. The part of the plan effective immedi
ately is as follows:
(A). Candidates for the Junior High School
Credential, the Elementary Certificate or Cre
dentials in Special Subjects, who have attained
junior standing since February 12, 1923, will
enroll in the School of Education and report to
that school for advice on programs. Those stu
dents will become candidates for the degree of
Bachelor of Science in Education,
194
The Office of the Registrar has not yet been
advised of the requirements for the degree of
Bachelor of Science in Education. Refer all
questions pertaining to this degree to the School
of Education (Minutes, I: 5).
In point of fact, by October 1923, the School of
Education's "announcements for 1923-1924" spelled out in
meticulous detail its requirements for admission, regist
ration, residence, amount of work, practice teaching,
teachers' certificates and credentials, majors and minors
(now labeled "Principal and Secondary Sequences or
Groups") in subjects other than education, thesis,
l^The wording of the thesis description and of the
concrete requirements for it is especially indicative of
the new "professional school" attitude that was quickly
being assumed. The section reads as follows:
"The thesis constitutes an important part of the
work required for the Master's degree. It must show
ability on the part of the writer to determine some worth
while problem in the field of Education, to collect,
organize, and critically analyze and handle large masses
of material, and show some initiative and resourcefulness
in making a scientific study of the problem selected. The
subject of the thesis should be presented with the recom
mendation of some member of the faculty to a Graduate
Committee of the School of Education for approval at
least six months before the candidate desires to be recom
mended for a degree. Upon the approval of the subject,
the Graduate Committee will appoint a thesis committee
of three members of the faculty of the School of Educa
tion. Not later than one month after the approval of the
thesis subject, the candidate shall present to the chair-
195
graduation; and fellowships of $600 eaeh--a substantial
sum for a time when tuition was $120 a semester. In
fact, by press time, two teaching fellows, Paul Edmond
son, A.B., and W.J. Klopp, B.S., had already been ap
pointed (Bulletin, October 1923, pp. 6-25, passim).
The names of these teaching fellows completed a
faculty list which contained the names of staff that Dean
Rogers had recruited, some of whom would carve special
places for themselves in the history of the University.
There were Francis Charles Touton, Professor, later Vice-
President of the University; Dr. Albert Sidney Rauben-
heimer. Assistant Professor, likewise later to serve the
University as Vice-President; Katie L. Humrichouse,
man of the thesis committee an outline which shows the
scope of the subject, method of treatment, and biblio
graphy and other sources of information. This committee
will have general supervision of the thesis throughout
the entire course of its preparation. The completed
thesis conforming in detail to the printed regulations
furnished by the University, shall be submitted to the
Graduate Committee of the School of Education for final
acceptance with the unanimous recommendation of the
special committee, two weeks before the conferring of
the degree" (p. 11).
The candidate should have been left with little to
doubt or question as to form, substance, protocol, and
due dates of his thesis.'
196
Secretary to the Dean, who would long be a mainstay in
the School of Education's day-to-day affairs; and Merritt
Moore Thompson, Principal of the University High School
and Instructor.
It is at this point in the history that the Minutes
become invaluable. Page 1, Volume 1, begins as follows:
"The first regular meeting of the faculty of the
School of Education for the academic year 1923-1924 was
held on Wednesday, September 19^^, with twelve [ unnamed ]
the personal interview which he granted for the
present dissertation. Dr. Thompson reminisced warmly and
revealingly about how he came to join the faculty of the
School of Education. He had come to the University as a
member of the Spanish Department but discovered that as
a normal school graduate with fourteen years of school
experience, his "background in education was very much
better than . . . in Spanish." So he decided to pursue
his studies in Education. This is his description of
his recruitment:
"I went into Dean Rogers' class in the old Philo
sophy of Education: 201. (it was to be 501 later and I
was to teach it myself for many years, which I didn't
know then, of course.) I went into his class--it was a
late afternoon class--and the last day he sprang the
final examination on us without any previous notice. I
didn't know how I could get through with it, 1 was so
tired, but I did the best I could. The next day he very
calmly informed me that I had the best paper in the class,
and the principalship of the old University High School
was vacant, and would I take it. Well, I would ....
I took the position in 1922 and held it until it was dis
banded in 1929" (Thompson, 1968).
197
members present." It continues:
After the introduction of new members, Dr. Rogers
gave a resume of the reorganization program of
the School of Education as stated in the new bul
letin. He made it clear that the new plan meant
more definite organization of work and that stud
ents took only a few additional hours in Education,
since survey of the actual number of education
units now elected, shows from sixteen to twenty
units elected under the old system.
Prof. Montgomery . . . brought out the point that
candidates for the degree of Bachelor of Science
will not receive the A.B. degree also. By satis
fying the requirements for graduation from Liberal
Arts, however, in addition to the requirements of
the School of Education, they may receive the de
gree of A.B. if they prefer. . . .
Dr. Rogers outlined plans for the departmental
work this year. There will be regular faculty
meetings of the School of Education every six
or eight weeks to discuss problems of adminis
tration and broader professional work. There
will also be committees appointed . . . to care
for special fields such as admission to the
Graduate School and Graduate Study.
Dr. Rogers outlined the functions of the Graduate
Council in relation to the School of Education:
The Graduate Council passes upon the credentials
of students who wish to enter the School of Edu
cation. The School of Education outlines the
work of students thus approved and admitted.
Dr. Rogers emphasized the fact that more experi
enced guidance and closer supervision of practice
teachers is necessary.
198
He made the following assignment of duties:
Prof. Thompson to serve as general director of
all student teaching on the campus and such
other schools outside 3 6 ' ^ ' ' St. School, as have
practice teachers.
Dr. Stormzand to serve as director of practice
teaching in the 36^^ St. School and Miss York to
care for the Home Economics work.
Respectfully submitted,
/s/ Welcome A. Tilroe
Secretary
/s/ R.B. von KleinSmid (Minutes, 1: 1-2).
The significance of these extended excerpts from the
first of the collected Minutes is inescapable.
Professionally, the Bachelor of Science in Education
had been born and carefully defined.
Administratively, responsibilities had been delegated
to individuals and committees, but Dean Rogers emerged
secure in leadership and control. In actuality, the more
committees were formed at his behest--in this meeting,
the permanent committees on Curriculum and Scholarship;
subsequently that year, on Admission and Advanced Stand
ing and on Graduate Study; and a special committee "for
the arrangement and compilation of [a] hand-book on
199
General Technique" and routine for distribution to all
practice teachers (1: 18)--the surer his hand seemed
to be.
Finally, with the first in a long series of counter-
signatures, President von KleinSmid asserted his interest
in, awareness of, and close personal attention to the
inner workings of the School of Education.
President von KleinSmid interfered little with the
operation of the School of Education or with the leader
ship exercised by Dean Rogers. The Minutes do occasion
ally reveal the use of the Presidential veto in Dr. Von's
delicate but firm script. But, by and large, his counter-
signature denoted approval and occasionally was preceded
by the word "Approved." More to the point. President von
KleinSmid confirmed his confidence in Dr. Rogers' admin
istrative competence by adding the deanship of the summer
session to the latter's responsibilities, commencing with
the "eighteenth Summer Session of the College of Liberal
Arts" in 1923 (Bulletin, XVIII, 1 | March 1923], p. 180).
Foreign Language Requirement Exemptions
In the earliest of the collected Minutes, certain
200
matters are salient. One that appears again and again
concerns a lower division requirement for the bachelor's
degree in Education of two years of a foreign language;
that is, sixteen units of either Latin, Greek, German,
French, Spanish, or Italian. However, this requirement
was modified by the following note:
Mature students who have had two or more years
of successful teaching or other acceptable ex
perience, and have attained full junior stand
ing with the exception of the language require
ment may, with the approval of the faculty of
the School of Education, elect an equal amount
of work in a department not included in Educa
tion, the principal group [major], or the second
ary group [minor] (Bulletin, October 1923, p. 9).
This liberal modification led, first, to a trickle, then,
to a veritable torrent of appeals for such consideration,
some even from students not in the School of Education,
necessitating the clarification that "|t]he note on page
9 of the Bulletin of the School of Education regarding
foreign language study cannot be construed to apply to
any other college or school than Education ..." (Min
utes , October 5, 1923). Moreover, as to the merits of
the applications,
[tjhe two points to be considered . . . are:
(a) Do maturity and experience of applicant
entitle him or her to this option; (b) Are
201
the courses elected in lieu of the foreign
language acceptable (Minutes, October 1923).
By 1926, long lists of applicants for excuse from
the requirement were being submitted to the Scholarship
Committee of the University, and by 1929 the processing
had become so cumbersome that the Scholarship Committee
declared that
hereafter the School of Education administer
the regulation .... It is understood that
at the time of permitting such substitution,
the School of Education will cause to have
filed, a statement to that effect, in the
Registrar’s Office. By 'Mature and experi
enced students' it is understood that :
1. Five or more years have elapsed
since high school graduation, and
2. The student has had two years or
more of successful teaching or
other successful experience, and
3. The student has completed sixty
units of pre-professional work,
outlined by the faculty of the
School of Education and approved
by this committee (Minutes, I: 125).
This firmly established policy persisted virtually un
changed through the year which ends this history, and the
words of the qualifications appearing in 1952 are remin
iscent of those which appeared in 1923 and 1929 (Builetln,
47, 1 I February 1, 1952J, pp. 20-21).
202
Discontinuance of the University High School
Another matter of deep concern was for the operation
and standards of the University High School. Merritt
Thompson had been appointed principal. But problems were
numerous. An episode is documented in the Minutes of
June 12, 1924.
Dr. Rogers reported that last year a State
Inspector of high schools had made an unex
pected visit to the University High School
and in consequence, the High School had been
placed on the list of accredited schools by
the University of California with a rating
of "B". This year Dr. Paschall the chairman
of the Board came down himself and after making
a tour of inspection, recommended that the
school be continued on the "B" list. He gave
two reasons for not placing it on the "A" list.
First - the lack of a distinctive plant.
Second - No data from Universities as to re
cords made by former High School pupils. A
motion was carried that the application for
accrediting the University High School now
before the Committee of the State Board, on
the accrediting of secondary schools, be con
tinued and the classification of "B" be
accepted (I: 19).
Dr. Rogers and his staff continued to wrestle with
the problems of the high school. In September 1924, he
explained to the faculty the changes that were in prog
ress. Steps were being taken to organize the high school
on a five year basis and include eighth and, in some
203
cases, seventh grade students. "This would offer facil
ities for observation and practice teaching in the junior
as well as senior high school" (Minutes, September 24,
1925).
But the problems persisted. In 1926, Dr. Rogers
informed his faculty that a plan to reorganize the high
school as a six-year junior-senior high school had been
approved by President von KleinSmid. Dr. Rogers then
appointed Professors Thompson and Touton to act with him
in a committee to plan for the reorganization (Minutes,
April 8, 1926). The plans developed but were never
carried out (Thompson, n.d., p. 18). Propitiously, a
breakthrough occurred which would permit the University
to get out of the secondary school business. At the meet
ing of September 11, 1926, Dr. Rogers announced that
"I a : 11 demands for practice teaching in excess of the
facilities at the University High School will be arranged
with Mrs. Nellie I. Potter of the James Foshay Junior High
School," a Los Angeles City Schools facility within walk
ing distance of the University campus.
It is curious datum that the University High School
is not again mentioned in the minutes of the faculty
204
meetings of the School of Education, and the only notice
of its termination is an act of omission in the Builetin
for 1930-1931. Therein appears the statement that "prac
tice teaching facilities" had been arranged "for prospec
tive junior high school teachers at the James A. Foshay
Junior High School, 3751 South Harvard Boulevard, and for
prospective senior high school teachers at Manual Arts
High School, West 42nd Street and Vermont Avenue" (Bul
letin, XXIV, 16 [December 1929], p. 21).
During the latter years of the 1920's while Dr. Rog
ers and others groped for a solution to the matter of the
University High School, among the new faculty members was
Dr. Frederick J. Weersing. And as Dr. Weersing told it
in a personal interview with the present writer, he
played a singular role in the high school’s demise.
"1 was responsible for the abolition of our Univers
ity High School," he began with a note of satisfaction in
his voice.
. . , it was in 1927-28 . . . I guess. And I
had been put in charge of directed teaching.
1 found that we had a group of fifteen or so
candidates--but maybe not quite as many as
that--that did all their directed teaching in
the University High School. 1 had been a high
school principal and an organizer of high schools
205
in the Orient and had been in charge of
teacher education at the University of Kan
sas for some time before I came to USC. And
the dean found that I was interested in that
field. He assigned me to this problem. I
was so overwhelmed by the lack of facilities
and lack of proper supervision that when the
state inspector came--without the knowledge
of the dean or any authority above me in the
University--! confidentially asked the in
spector to report things as she found them.
And I said I would show them to her.
Well, she saw that approximately forty-
eight classes were scheduled during the day,
that half a dozen or eight of these were
taught by graduate students from the Univers
ity in each of the major fields in the high
school, who at the same time were supervisors
of student teachers but had more or less a
full load and in addition were carrying courses
in the University. So their inspection [of the
student teachers] was very brief, usually less
than five minute visits .... She also found
that the student body consisted of approxi
mately fifty or sixty students of very miscel
laneous age and character and background but
very uniform in that they had been problems of
one sort or another ....
So as a result of that the dean asked me
to head a committee of our faculty. Ford and
Hull being the other members, and to survey the
high school. They wrote the section on the
building and on the management of the school.
I wrote the section on the teacher training and
the curriculum .... And we agreed that one
part was as bad as the other, and we recommended
to the dean and the University President that one
of two things be done: that the University build
a training high school--rather small to begin
with that we figured would cost in the neighbor
hood of $75,000, also gave figures for a budget,
staff and so on . . .
206
IT J he committee appeared with the dean to
present the report to the President after he'd
[read it]. And he said, "It's absolutely out
of the question, gentlemen" (Weersing, 1969).
Dr. Thompson had shed a slightly different light on
the same events. "There came a time," he said, "when
I the University High School] was not sufficient at all
for student teachers: we had to go into the public
schools ..."
Dr. von KleinSmid was never friendly toward it
anyway. He didn't believe in a high school on
the college campus. So a committee said . . .
that one of two things should be done : either
a large amount of money whould be put into it
and it be made a first class high school, or it
should be abandoned. Well, of course, the Uni
versity as always was short of money, and Presi
dent von KleinSmid couldn't under any possible
circumstances approve the spending of all that
money, and he hadn't approved of the high school
anyway (Thompson, 1968).
So, although Dr. Weersing's well-meaning subterfuge
probably accelerated an eventual confrontation of the
issue, the fate of the University High School had un
doubtedly already been sealed by circumstances. Perhaps
as telling as the high school's internal problems was the
willingness of the Los Angeles City Schools to cooperate,
first, in providing supervising teachers and conveniently
located schools where student teachers could engage in
207
directed teaching and, second, some time later in being
receptive to a proposal propounded by Dr. Weersing,
designated by him as the second of the alternatives set
forth in the meeting with the President.
[Wjith the dean's permission, I wrote to Susan
Dorsey, Superintendent of Schools in Los Angeles,
and I outlined the program of teacher education
that I had attempted to establish in Lawrence,
Kansas. So 1 got a second chance to promote
that idea, and I wrote . . . a two page letter,
as I recall it, and said to her that no system
of student teaching that exploited the pupils
in the schools is good for the teachers either,
obviously. And I said, with that proposition
in mind, we propose . . . that the schools
select with University assistance, teaching di
rectors who will be given half or more time to
supervise a student or two, whom the University
would pay (the Dean had already made arrangements
for that kind of budget) in order to supervise
one or two training teachers under their direc
tion .... A good many of the features of the
plan were [subsequently] adopted by all the other
schools around because USC was the first to get
that kind of arrangement with the Los Angeles
City Schools (Weersing, 1969).
A fuller explanation of the cooperative teacher
education staffing arrangement between the Los Angeles
City Schools and the University of Southern California
has a place later in this study. But that Dr. Weersing
was its source and Dr. Rogers its initiator and that
its inception played a major role in the ensuing bur-
208
geoning of the teacher education program are pertinent
to this era in the history. As to the University High
School, its unceremonious official discontinuance was
effective in September 1928 (Servin and Wilson, p. 77).
The Reorganization Moves Forward
With the Trustees' action of 1922, the authorized
reorganization of the School of Education proceeded apace
in every aspect. Interestingly, this was true throughout
the University, for Dr. vonKleinSmid had plunged into
myriad projects when he assumed the Presidency, all
dedicated in some way to the expansion of the University
and the increase of its income and endowment (Servin and
Wilson, pp. 97-122). In view of all that was going on,
it is the more remarkable in the long view that progress
was as rapid as it was.
Besides Dean Rogers' leadership, other forces simul
taneously militated toward expansion of graduate programs
in the School of Education. One developing force was
the gradually gathering faculty of capable, experienced,
hard-working, and well-educated educators. The coming
of Professors Touton and Raubenheimer has already been
209
noted. They were joined by many others during those
early years; among the more familiar names are those of
Osman Ransom Hull and Thomas William McQuarrie in 1924
(Dr. McQuarrie was to leave the University in 1927 to
assume the presidency of the State Teachers College at
San Jose); Willard Stanley Ford, 1925; Claude C. Crawford
and David Welty Lefever in 1926; Ernest Walter Tiegs and
Frederick J. Weersing in 1927; and, in 1929, Fay Greene
Adams. (Later to become Faye Adams Tiegs, Dr. Adams--as
she is known professionally--was to be a mainstay of the
Departments of Elementary and Teacher Education until her
discreetly unannounced retirement in 1969) (Bulletins,
XIX, 13; XX, 12; XXI, 12; XXII, 12; XXXII, 14; and XXXIV,
16; passim).
Another force was the encouragement which emanated
from the office of the President toward gradually en
hancing the upper division and graduate programs of the
University at large. Relevant to this is the fact that
prior to the accession of the new President, the Trustees
had authorized the existence of a Graduate School of Arts
and Sciences in 1920, appointed Dr. Rockwell D. Hunt Dean
of the new School, and given him the mandate to proceed
210
with its organization. In 1923, with the Graduate School
no longer only of arts and sciences but University-wide,
so that its functions "extended to supervision of all the
graduate work of the University" (Gates, p. 239), Dean
Hunt submitted the first of a series of persuasive annual
reports to the President and Board of Trustees in which
he argued for broadening graduate study at the University.
"It seems to me," wrote Dean Hunt, "that it is in
evitable that the University of Southern California should
offer the Doctor's degree in the very near future. Per
sonally," he continued,
I hope it can summon resources and do so at once,
for I believe that the time is at hand when op
portunities for that sort of study must be pro
vided here in Southern California. The demand
I believe is very real and even pressing . . .
(as quoted in Gaw, p. 41).
A spirit of encouragement for graduate study was
abroad in full flower at the University, somewhat to the
chagrin of some observers. Wrote the editor of the
Alumni News, Judge Kenneth C. Newell, in 1923,
[T]he plan of the relationship of the various
colleges to the University has been changed.
It is now the policy of the Board of Trustees
to change the colleges into schools and not
admit freshmen to the schools. It is the pur
pose of the Board to put in preparatory courses
211
in all professional fields, lasting from one to
three years . . . and highly intensifying the
professional spirit of those schools (Alumni
News, IV, 5 [June 1923], p. 4).
Although he went on to laud the development loyally
as having the "effect of giving unity and University
spirit to the student body as a whole," Judge Newell's
trepidation is manifest in his overstatement of the facts.
Nevertheless, he did not misread the interest of the
University in graduate study.
Gaw states that the Graduate Builetin for April 1924
included "the first public announcement of the proposed
admission of candidates for the degree of Ph. D." (p. 42).
Within the University, the Southern California Trojan
beat the Bulletin to the story by reporting on February
26, 1924, that "[bjeginning in May, 1925, the University
of Southern California will admit candidates for the de
gree of Doctor of Philosophy. The first degree will be
conferred in June, 1926" (XV, 54, p. 1).
In practice, Gaw notes. Education led the way (p.
42). Probably contributory to this forefront position
was the appointment in 1923 of Professor Touton as
Education Secretary to the President and ex-officio
212
member of the Graduate Council, where he joined Dean
Rogers as an advocate for the School of Education (Gaw,
pp. 39, 58), Indeed, announcement by the School of
Education was not far behind that of the Graduate School.
In December 1924, the School of Education Bulletin boldly
announced that
[g]raduates of the University of Southern Cali
fornia or of an institution of equal standing,
holding a baccalaureate degree in arts, letters,
philosophy, or science, are regularly admitted
through the Graduate School to the School of
Education . . . to candidacy for the degree of
Master of Arts (in Education) and Doctor of
Philosophy (p. 14).
Thereafter, the statement details requirements for the
master's degree, described earlier, and concludes with a
brief explanation of the doctorate in Education:
In response to a demand that has been increas
ing during recent years, for work leading to
the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, the Gradu
ate School announces that the University of
Southern California has definitely decided to
enter upon this important work, and thus seeks
to meet the reasonable demand of a wide con
stituency for the highest academic opportunities
in connection with an American university.
In conformity with this general announce
ment the work in Education has been organized
so that students may continue graduate study
beyond that required for the Master's degree
in preparation for the preliminary examinations
which will be held in May of the present year.
Other courses are being added which will provide
213
ample opportunity for students to specialize in
one of the three or four divisions in Education,
leading to the Doctor of Philosophy degree (p.
16).
Besides the promise of doctoral level courses, the
perennial problem of the relative inadequacy of the
library holdings would have to be met if a doctoral pro
gram in Education were indeed to be effectuated. Toward
that end, within days of his seventy-eighth birthday.
Dean Emeritus Stowell presented his professional library
to the University. The gift was so welcome that the
faculty meeting secretary, Miss Tilroe, outdid herself
by ascribing to the gift the ability to "make possible
research leading to the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in
the Department of Education" (I: 16). But so overstated
was the ascription that calmer heads prevailed and the
Minutes of May 9, 1924, amended the statement to read
"that this gift was a step toward the provision of facil
ities for research work leading to the degree." (I: 18),
The gift only began a building process that continues
to this day. It did have the salutary effect of signaling
the inception of the Stowell Research Library Fund, which
was destined to bring more needed help to the School of
214
Education's meager library resources (Trojan, XV, 86
[May 19, 1924], p. 2).
The First Doctorate
June 1926 came and went without a successful doctoral
graduate, the promise of the Trojan to the contrary not
withstanding. In reminiscing about this fact almost ten
years later, on the occasion of the Twenty-Fifth Annivers
ary Celebration of the Inauguration of Graduate Studies,
Dean Hunt reviewed the nine basic considerations upon
which the doctoral degree had been predicated in the
formal declaration of intention of 1923. These were:
1. Rigid insistence on productive scholarship
and sound moral character.
2. The equivalent of at least three full years
of successful graduate work in accredited
universities.
3. At least one full year's work (ordinarily
the final year) in actual residence at this
University.
4. The satisfactory completion of one prin
cipal, or major, subject, and one or two
correlated subordinate, or minor, subjects.
5. An approved thesis, or dissertation, show
ing technical mastery of a special field
and undoubted power of research.
6. Reading knowledge of two foreign modern
languages (French and German, unless for
special reason,) such as will enable the
candidate to translate at sight literature
pertaining to his principal subject.
7. Preliminary examination, at least one
215
academic year previous to the final oral
examination, to test the student’s ac
ceptability as a candidate.
8. General oral final examination, after sat
isfactory passing of all course examina
tions and meeting all other special re
quirements .
9. No work in absentia to be recognized except
that done in connection with approved re
search or preparation of the dissertation
(Hill, p. 34).
It is small wonder that plans for the first doctorate in
1926 were not realized, for the standards were formal
and unexpectedly high for a University with little status
in the national community of American higher education.
It was up to the School of Education to produce the
first Doctor of Philosophy and thereby to demonstrate
crowning proof of its leadership in graduate study.
In the Minutes of May 24, 1927, which records a
luncheon meeting of the faculty of the School of Educa
tion in the Women’s Residence Hall, whose principal
business that day was to pass on degree recommendations
in anticipation of commencement, among long lists of suc
cessful degree and credential candidates, without fanfare
or accolade, may be found this terse declaration:
”It was moved and carried that D. Weity Lefever be
endorsed for the degree of Ph. D. in Education subject to
216
the recommendation of the Committee on Graduate Students”
(I: 67).
Accordingly, ”at the commencement exercises in June,
1927, David Welty Lefever received the Ph. D. degree in
Education” (Gates, p. 242).
If the University had been allowed to choose the
scholar who would earn its first doctorate, it could not
have chosen one who would bring it greater credit than
would Dr. Lefever. Recipient in 1921 of the Bachelor of
Arts degree from LaVerne College, located in a small
Southern California community from which it derived its
name, where Dr. Lefever resides even today, the young man
quickly completed a Master of Arts degree at the Univers
ity of Southern California. His thesis concerned "Extra
curricular Activity in the High School as a Means of
Social Adjustment” (1922), a theme that would interest
him throughout his professional life. He was twenty-one
years old. His alma mater promptly appointed him Assist
ant Professor of Sociology and Education. He remained at
LaVerne College for a year and then moved on to the
Compton Union High School, where he stayed until 1926 as
"Teacher, Registrar, and Counsellor” (Bulletin, December
217
1928, p. 12). In September 1926 he became a doctoral
candidate and member of Dean Rogers’ School of Education
faculty, an affiliation which continued uninterrupted
under three deans until his retirement in 1966, a span
of forty years.
Dr. Lefever’s credits are too numerous to recount.
His dissertation, the first in the Reference Library’s
chronological catalog, studied ’ ’The Prognostic Value of
Certain Groupings of the Test Elements of the Thorndike
Intelligence Examination for High School Graduates"
(1927). He was to go on to co-author achievement tests
for Science Research Associates; chair school survey
committees; serve on advisory committees to the state
legislature on a variety of educational subjects; be
associate editor of at least four educational journals,
including Education and the Journal of Educational Re
search; perform original research on testing and be noted
for work on the Rorschach; write and co-author books,
reviews, and reports; be faculty advisor to Pi Lambda
Theta, Delta Epsilon, and Education Alumni; and chair
the doctoral committees of a roster of candidates which
reads like a who’s who in Southern California education.
218
The list is too long to repeat in full, but a random
sample might Include the names of Leonard Calvert, later
a School of Education professor, tragically to die early
in a brilliant career; Robert Lloyd Doctor, Professor of
Education at San Fernando Valley State College elected to
the Los Angeles City Schools Board of Education in 1968;
Marianne Frostig, also of the School of Education faculty,
expert on exceptional children and founder of the Marianne
Frostig School; Marie Young Martin, President of Los
Angeles Pierce College, one of the few women presidents
of C O -educational colleges in America; and Elmer Elroy
Wagner, Professor of Education, respected specialist in
counseling and guidance and for a time Assistant Dean of
the School of Education (Lefever, 1966).
Dr. Lefever’s interest in and allegiance to the
School of Education continues unabated to this very day.
In 1968, in honor of the new home of the School in Waite
Phillips Hall, Dr. Lefever spoke glowingly of its pro
duction of doctorates both in quality and quantity as
compared to that of the nation as a whole. He prepared
a graph for the presentation which shows that the Uni
versity of Southern California kept pace with and
219
outstripped the rate of increase in numbers of doctorates
produced by institutions of higher education in the United
States, while holding its own in numbers of master's de
grees and credentials.^^
Full Professional Status
David Welty Lefever's success in attaining the
University's first Doctor of Philosophy degree put the
capstone on the School of Education's achievements to
1927 and brought credit to its faculty and student body.
But there was still some unfinished business. Dr. von
KleinSmid was entertaining the idea of full professional
status for several of the schools of the University in
order to enable them to grow more freely and to function
within their own realm without dependence upon the Grad
uate School, whose interests might be in another direc
tion. In point of fact, it might be said that Dr. von
KleinSmid had a proprietary interest in the School of
Education. As Servin and Wilson put it,
l^See Table 1. Comparisons are to the rate during
the five year period 1933-1937, using 100 as the base
index for that year.
220
Table 1
COMPARATIVE GRAPH OF DOCTORATES, MASTERS,
AND CREDENTIALS: I935-I965
700
600
500
g 400
I 300
200
100
0
Doctorates in Education, U.S.C.
Masters in Education, U.S.C.
********* A1I Credentials, U.S.C.
Doctorates in Education, U.S.A.
= ==== = = Academic Doctorates, U.S.A.
Base value 5 years 1933-37
1935 1940 1945 1950 1955 1960 1965
(Compiled by D. Welty Lefever; reproduced by permission.)
221
He had been a public school teacher and principal,
he had served as a professor of education, and
he possessed a philosophy of education in con
sonance with his discipline. At Arizona he had
established a separate School of Education . . .
(p. 109).
But, for the School of Education of the University
of Southern California, full professional status meant
that it would receive jurisdiction over the degrees to
be earned by its students--it already had the Bachelor
of Science in Education, as noted earlier. If carried
out and the School of Education were granted the power
autonomously to oversee the Doctor of Philosophy degree
for graduate students in Education, there was the danger
of fragmentation of the degree and variation in standards.
Fortunately, however, there was a solution. In 1920,
Harvard had introduced the Doctor of Education as a higher
degree for "practicing educators" (Brubacher and Rudy,
p. 190). Stanford and the University of California at
Berkeley had followed suit (O'Leary, passim). From the
point of view of the School of Education, as Dean Rogers
explained it to the Southern California Trojan, "two
factors" were of prime consideration in its pressing for
the Doctor of Education degree.
222
One was the desire to create a professional
degree to equal merit of the degree of Ph. D.
but with the emphasis on advanced principles
and procedure rather than primarily on research.
The other was to provide a master-teacher type
of degree for the better preparation of teachers
in subject matter fields for Junior and other
Colleges (VII, 2 [July 6, 1928], p. 1).
Dean Rogers' philosophy for the Ed. D. resembled
Stanford's closely. For its part, Stanford deemed the
degree as accommodating two classes of professionals:
(1) those wishing a thorough and comprehensive
professional understanding of educational prob
lems met by school administrators, supervisors,
guidance workers, and curriculum specialists, or
a scholarly preparation as teachers of education
in general or teachers' colleges; (2) those wish
ing to become master teachers in the subject
fields in secondary schools and junior colleges
(O'Leary, p. 348).^®
Emboldened by precedence, the Dean's leadership, and
the President's encouragement, the faculty of the School
of Education took the following action on June 5, 1928:
It was moved and carried that the faculty of the
School of Education request the President and the
Board of Trustees of the University of Southern
1 o
An interesting aside to Dean Rogers' and Stanford's
virtually identical second categories is that under pre
sent California credential law, the advanced degree in
Education alone would not qualify one for a junior college
teaching credential; a master's degree in an academic
discipline is required.
223
California for permission to organize a three
year professional curricula leading to the de
gree of Doctor of Education (Ed. D.), the re
quirements for this degree, both in quality and
quantity of work, to be the full equivalent of
the requirements for the degree of Doctor of
Philosophy but adapted to the needs of men and
women in the teaching profession. The general
standards outlined shall be an adaptation of
those outlined by Harvard and Stanford univers
ities to conform to the needs of our particular
situation.
It was moved and carried that the faculty
of the School of Education request the President
and the Board of Trustees . . . permission to
recommend graduate students in the School of
Education for two professional degrees, the
Master of Arts in Education and the Master of
Science in Education, the [former] being given
to the holders of the Bachelor of Arts degrees
with majors in academic subjects, and the [ lat
ter) being granted to the holders of Bachelor of
Science and Bachelor of Science in Education
degrees (I: 88).
Under date of June 14, 1928, Dean Rogers received
the following communication:
This is to advise that the Board of Trustees of
the University of Southern California took the
following action upon the occasion of their last
meeting held June 7 : -
"Upon recommendation of the President, it
was moved and unanimously carried that the School
of Education which has hitherto in its work for
advanced degrees been regarded as a part of the
Graduate School be henceforth recognized as one
of the separate professional schools of the Uni
versity, operating on the same basis as the School
of Law and the School of Medicine, and that the
faculty be empowered to recommend for appropriate
degrees those who complete satisfactorily the
224
course laid down for such recognition."
The action of the Board takes effect at
once authorizing the necessary procedure in
keeping with it.
Faithfully yours,
/s/ R. B. von KleinSmid
President
(Minutes, I: 89).
All that had been asked for granted seemingly without
a word of dissension or disagreement--the infancy of the
School of Education had come to an end!
225
CHAPTER VI
A COMING OF AGE
Corollaries of Full Professional Status
Its status as a full-fledged professional school
achieved, the School of Education continued a process
begun earlier of broadening its base and thus further
assuring its position. Several means were employed to
realize this objective.
One means was to increase the School of Education’s
own special family. The process had been started in 1922
when Phi Delta Kappa, national honor fraternity in educa
tion, granted a charter for a University of Southern
California chapter (Hunt, p. 44). Designated Alpha Ep
silon, the chapter marked its inaugural in June 1922 by
initiating twenty-two men as charter members, including
Clement Smith as president and Merritt Thompson as sec
retary (Thompson, n.d., pp. 13-14). The Alpha Epsilon
chapter has had a noteworthy life, adding markedly to the
national prestige of the School of Education by counting
226
among its members educators of national prominence,
several national officers of Phi Delta Kappa and even
two national presidents--in the persons of Dean Hull
(Who’s Who in America, 1959-1960) and, much later. Pro
fessor Emery Stoops (Thompson, n.d., p. 92)--as well as
consistently contributing to its host institution’s
programs and fund-raising activities.
The process of building the family of the School of
Education continued with the establishment in 1924 of a
chapter of Pi Lambda Theta, women's counterpart of Phi
Delta Kappa (Hunt, 1930, p. 49; Thompson, n.d., p. 14).
From its inception. Pi Lambda Theta had been "largely an
off-campus group." However, with Dean Rogers’ encourage
ment, an on-campus group was formed in 1942 (Minutes, II
I June 30, 1942], p. 353). From that time on, for the dura
tion of the period covered by this history. Pi Lambda
Theta was to be more involved in student affairs and
generally more helpful to the School of Education (Thomp
son, n.d., p. 14).^
^A Pi Kappa Sigma sorority chapter was added in 1927
(Gates, p. 302) and the Education Alumni Association in
1947 (Bulletin, 43, 7 [August 1948], p. 17).
Ill
Another addition to the School of Education family
was the Doctoral Club. Started in 1937, it was organized
"to recognize those who had taken the doctoral degrees in
Education ..."
[I]n 1948 [actually. May 14, 1947, according to
the Bulletin, 43, 7, p. 17] the Club was reorgan
ized as the Delta Epsilon Society. Its purposes
were stated to be: 1. To advance the interests
of public education. 2. To foster professional
growth among its members. 3. To stimulate the
publication of research materials by its members.
4. To acquaint the members with recent findings
in education. 5. To work for the School of Edu
cation of the University of Southern California
(Thompson, n.d., p. 41).
The activities and most noteworthy achievements of
the society of Delta Epsilon largely postdate the era
delimiting this history. But its existence and that of
its predecessor testify to the allegiance and involvement
of the School of Education’s successful doctoral candi
dates over the years.
Another means of broadening the base for the School
of Education was to be a series of prestigious publica
tions carrying its imprint. A like enterprise had been
instituted by the University as the University of South
ern California Studies. Since the studies were to draw
from among the University’s many disciplines, the Uni
228
versity’s Editorial Committee on Research Publications
designated the first work, an esoteric study of I Henry VI
by Professor Allison Gaw (1927), as No. 1 in the English
Series. But the University at large was to prove relat
ively unproductive, and it was not long that the undertak
ing, albeit still a University-wide endeavor, was virtually
turned over to the School of Education for what was to be
o
the Education Series.
The first of the Education Series was an investiga
tion by Dr. Touton and two collaborators, Karl Heilman
and Esther Terry, of the mastery of certain fundamental
processes by secondary school students (1927). Touton
went on to collaborate in two more of the series: one,
another research study in secondary education (Touton and
Potter, 1927), and the other, with Dr. von KleinSmid, a
handbook of study methods for college students (1929).
^Servin and Wilson ascribe the dearth of publication
to President von KleinSmid’s concentrating on "the acqui
sition of land and the construction of new buildings."
This he was able to do "by assigning extremely heavy
loads, which deprived these faculty members of research
time" so that they came to be regarded as "undistinguished
as a publishing faculty [and] characterized by its younger
members as a bland group of professors" (p. 130).
229
But the bulk of the series, five numbers in all, were
versions of the famous school housing surveys produced by
the team of Hull and Ford for various Southern California
school districts.3 The last Education Series number which
the University would publish was Dr. Lefever*s disserta
tion, coming in 1930, at a time when the University was
feeling the pinch of the Great Depression; and its pub
lishing venture was nearly over for the moment.
But the Dean and faculty of the School of Education
could not abide the discontinuance; as they saw it, the
need for research and its publication had not diminished.
(Perhaps withdrawal of the University of Southern Calif
ornia Studies seemed the more pointed to the School of
Education because of the domination by the Education
Series.) Accordingly, Dean Rogers began early to press
for School of Education involvement in a publishing ven
ture. In 1930, he presented to his faculty "for consider
ation the desirability of establishing a School of Educa-
^Specifically, these were the surveys of the Monrovia
Union High School, Santa Monica City, Alhambra, Santa Ana,
and Huntington Park Union High School Districts, respect
ively. (See bibliography.)
230
tion Publication, Research Series, of the University of
Southern California" (Minutes, I, May 28, 1930, p. 163).
In 1933,
[tjhe Dean presented a tentative statement re
garding the publication of a journal of educa
tional research, interpretation, and evaluation,
by the faculty of the School of Education of the
University of Southern California. A motion was
made and carried that a committee be appointed
to complete arrangements along the lines sug
gested in the tentative statement. The Dean
appointed a committee consisting of Dr. Ford,
Dr. Raubenheimer, and Professor Campbell (Min
utes, II, April 21, 1933, p. 202).
Finally--and the record is not clear on exactly how
it came to pass--the Committee on Publications, with Dr.
Ford at its head, reported on the "progress of the pub
lication of the Educational Monographs" (Minutes, II,
January 19, 1934, p. 212).
Somehow the Dean had prevailed, and a series of re
search publications--not a journal--was to emanate from
the School of Education. One member of the School of
Education’s special family, the Alpha Epsilon chapter of
Phi Delta Kappa, had agreed to bear the cost of publica
tion. Appropriately, the dissertation of the chapter’s
first secretary and second president, Merritt Moore Thomp
son, on The Educational Philosophy of Giovanni Gentile,
231
was its first product, coming off the presses in 1934.
The first in the monograph series was an intriguing
choice. Gentile, Thompson’s subject, was Minister of
Education in the regime of Italian dictator Benito
Mussolini. Even had Gentile’s position in a fascist
government not been repugnant to American educators, his
thought and career were doubtless alien to the Southern
California educators who decided to publish the study.
Nevertheless, they did so--and to their credit. For the
study was a work of scholarship by a learned and thought
ful American professor who was himself a vigorous opponent
of totalitarianism. Moreover, the monograph was subse
quently to bring Dr. Thompson and the University inter
national recognition and honor, an eventuality in keeping
with the atmosphere so doggedly promoted by President von
KleinSmid (Thompson, 1968).
In May of 1939, the faculty faced the question of
continuing publication of the monographs. In arriving at
a decision to continue or, more precisely, to resume, the
Publications Committee, composed of Professors Burton,
Campbell, Lefever, Weersing, and Hull as chairman,
wrestled with the whole corpus of scholarly publication,
232
but especially of publication emanating from the School
of Education of the University of Southern California.
The results of their deliberations indicate the culmina
tion of what must have been profound preoccupations on
the part of all the members of the augmented committee.
Their report, dated May 18, 19 39, recommended that
the faculty of the School of Education should
commit itself to a definite, carefully con
sidered long-time publication program designed
to stimulate and publicize creative scholarship
on the part of both students and faculty (Min
utes , II: 297).
Implementation of the broad recommendation quoted
was to be accomplished by means of the following proposed
activities :
1. The immediate resumption of the publication
of the Educational Monograph Series, each
issue to include either a single study deemed
worthy of separate publication . . . or a
condensation of several related studies,
dealing with a general topic which will serve
as a unifying title for the studies to be
included.
2. The systematic publication of abstracts of
dissertations in Education ....
3. The launching of a series of occasional bul
letins (somewhat similar to the Ohio State
Bulletin) for the publication of occasional
shorter studies, as well as of special an
nouncements of the work and progress of our
School of Education for free distribution to
libraries, colleges, school systems, and
educational organizations. Each year's
233
issues of such a bulletin would represent
the numbers of a separate volume, thus al
lowing for later expansion into a quarterly
or even a monthly publication. It should,
however, serve primarily as a "house-organ"
rather than represent an attempt to start
another general educational periodical.
This part of the program would require a
university appropriation.
4. The periodic preparation and publication of
a thesis index ....
5. A systematic monthly survey of available
materials . . . and the stimulation of
faculty and student effort to product
worthy materials for publication. . . .
The program's purpose was stated as "an outlet for pub
licizing every type of creative effort engaged in by mem
bers of our staff and student body" (pp. 297-298).
In order to do all that was recommended, the commit
tee requested that "one member of the staff be appointed
as Chairman of School of Education publications, such ap
pointment to be counted as the equivalent of three hours
on his weekly load during each semester" (pp. 298-299).
And additional recommendations tried to solve the fiscal
problems inherent in an elaborated publications program
with one essential presumption being that the University
could be expected partially to subsidize it.
Aside from a few occasional papers and some quite
recent papers reaching print by reason of outside funding.
234
nothing approaching the ambitious program envisioned by
the committee has come to fruition from that day to this.
Only the monographs survived. A variety of Justifications
may be offered for the way things have gone; some have
to do with the intervening war years and the ensuing boom
in postwar education which absorbed all the energy of the
faculty to the detriment of a potential School of Educa
tion publications program; others devolve upon financial
considerations. But, like the phoenix, the faculty pre
occupation with publication as a School of Education
enterprise has been reborn again and again and is even
today being presented for consideration by its members.
So the Education Monographs were published inter
mittently after 1939. By 1944, twelve had been produced
and two more were in process. That year. Professor
Crawford "submitted a detailed statement on the status
of the Education Monograph Series and the Phi Delta Kappa
Publication Fund" (Minutes, II. November 8, 1944, p. 389).
(A copy of the statistical compilation appears as Table
II.) From a commercial standpoint, the numbers of copies
sold, both individually and collectively, do not seem
impressive. But the fact that twelve highly specialized
235
monographs in education were published and had some sales
each year after their appearance, even during the war
years, attests to their stature in the academic community
and speaks well for the project.
Still another means of broadening the base of opera
tions for the School of Education and thereby spreading
its influence and building its prestige was through a
variety of services to public education throughout the
state. Prior to the creation of the School of Education,
the University had looked to normal schools; to institu
tions of higher education, such as Teachers College,
Columbia, having teacher education programs; and to Cali
fornia public education agencies for precedence and
guidance in pedagogy. However, once the identity of the
School of Education had been affirmed, public education
officials began to look to it for leadership and services.
Evidence of this phenomenon is traceable as far back
as 1924. In that year. State Superintendent of Public
Instruction Will Wood acted to anticipate a projected
teacher training conference later the same year by giving
Dean Rogers the conference topics in the hope that the
Dean and faculty of the School of Education might generate
236
Table 2
SALES OF EDUCATION MONOGRAPHS
(Compiled from Reports from Comptroller)
Author
To
1935
To
1937
To
1939
To
1941
To
1943
Total
Sftles
Thompson 151.02 43.11 22.50 24.00 9.00 249.63
Graham 210.96 81.41 25.50 31.50 13.50 349.34
Hardesty 122.36 30.60 9.00 9.00 7.50 178.46
Trilling-
ham 351.18 207.97 48.00 43.50 18.00 668.65
Perry 93.28 33.90 6.00 7.50 4.50 145.18
Campbel1
— — —
86.99 28.50 19.50 12.00 136.99
Burton — — —
299.25 46.00 24.00 10.00 379.25
Adams — — — 521.85 84.24 43.50
— —
649.59
Dixon — — — 25.25 13.50 7.50 3.00 49.25
Chen - - - - - -
— — —
191.00 237.80 418.80
Wei1er - - - — — — — — —
42.00 42.00 84.00
Horn
— — —
- - -
— — —
12.25 103.25 115.50
Total for all 12
3424.8 7
Average for all 12
285.41
Average for last 3
206.10
(Minutes, II; 396).
237
perceptions of problems and possible solutions to those
problems in advance of the actual meetings. The faculty
then considered the topics transmitted by Superintendent
Wood and did produce several definitive statements of
position.
First, they expressed themselves as opposed to dic
tation from legislators and state Department of Education
officials regarding teacher, administration, and super
vision credential courses and curricula. They said, among
other things, "It is difficult and impractical to specify
for any institution what it should offer in the way of
courses." "The attempt to specify what courses shall be
given tends to prevent organization of consistent pro
fessional training." "The required courses should be
stated under general captions rather than specified course
headings, in order that more freedom of selection be given
the candidate at the discretion of the Dean of the School
of Education" (Minutes, I, November 6, 1924, pp. 21-22
passim).
Second, despite their desire for a relatively free
hand, the faculty urged that courses in educational psy
chology be required for teaching, administration and
238
supervision credentials. (It may logically be inferred
that the faculty believed adequate background in educa
tional psychology to be imperative and unless mandated,
probably not provided.) This position, modern as it
sounds to contemporary ears, when heard from an historical
listening post, only echoes positions held and implemented
by Professor Hoose decades earlier I
The faculty also urged the State Superintendent to
require "comparative study of educational institutions
abroad, in the United States, and in California" (Minutes,
I: 21). This emphasis was plainly ahead of its time--
comparative education is today being included only ten
tatively in credential courses.
The faculty offered additional guidance to Super
intendent Wood regarding the academic work required for
a secondary teaching credential, explaining that the re
quirement should be more explicit than the vague one of
"subjects taught in the high school," a phrase which had
been loosely interpreted and sometimes worked an injustice
on the candidate (Minutes, I: 21).
Still another faculty statement argued forcefully
that junior colleges, "which deal exclusively with lower
2 39
division work, should not offer courses leading to the
high school credential" (Minutes, I: 22). Furthermore,
the faculty contended, "[t]he majority of the work for
the secondary credential should be taken in an institution
which is generally recognized as doing graduate work,
leading to the A.M. degree" (Minutes: 21).
Finally, credentialing procedures were examined.
The faculty observed that the state's methods were "cum
bersome." In their view, procedures should be simplified
along the lines instituted by Dean Rogers for School of
Education credential applicants. What Dean Rogers had
done was to work out a "co-operative arrangement" with
the State Commission of Credentials whereby it was "pos
sible for applicants taking their work . . . at the Uni
versity of Southern California to receive their creden
tials . . . soon after the completion of the required
work" (Bulletin, XIX, 13 [December 1924J, p. 21).
One person--at the time. Miss Humrichouse, busy
secretary to the Dean--was assigned the responsibilities
of keeping "generally informed regarding requirements and
practices [of assisting] students through the details in
volved in filing application for the credential"
240
(Builetin, XIX: 13, p. 21). As will be reported more
fully later herein, the practice of obtaining University-
endorsed credentials was to be expanded to a more formal
service and to become an important component of the school
of Education's service structure; it continues to the
present day. As noted by the faculty in its comments
to the State Superintendent,
[tjhe plan followed by Dean Rogers' office for
the past two years, while entailing a great deal
of work and responsibility, has proved very sat
isfactory from the standpoint of service to the
candidate and might well be continued (Minutes,
I: 22).
Another question at issue in the matter of creden
tials and certification was not specifically referred to
in the 1924 deliberations. As explained in the School of
Education Bulletin of that year, under "Definition of
Terms,"
A credential is a document issued by the State
Board of Education authorizing the county super
intendent to grant a certificate to the holder
thereof. A certificate is the legal authoriza
tion of the holder to engage in the professional
activities specified in the certificate, and is
issued by the county superintendent on the pre
sentation of a state credential. A credential
does not authorize the holder to teach or engage
in any other professional activity (XIX: 13,
p. 21).
241
In 1931, the Dean again referred to an upcoming State
Superintendent's convention (Minutes, I, September 15,
1931, p. 187), but by this time the position of the School
of Education faculty on teacher education and credentials
was too well known for announcement of a convention to
exact the airing of points of contention in open meeting.
Furthermore, there is strong evidence that such was Dean
Rogers' influence that his conceptualization of the cred
ential structure was shaping California regulations. At
least, that is how Professor Thompson (n.d., p. 33) and
Professor Weersing both saw it.
Said Dr. Weersing in this connection:
[Dean] Rogers formed the basic credential system
in the state of California--teacher credential
system and the requirements set up for them.
He worked with the dean of the School of Educa
tion at Berkeley (who didn't have autonomy in
his department . . . and was a good professor
but not an administrator at all). And the
other person who helped on the state committee,
Cubberley, was too busy writing . . . administra
tion books. So it was Rogers who shaped Cali
fornia's public schools, public school curric
ulum and, particularly, public school teacher
training--Rogers who did it--and that's what
we live by (Weersing, 1969).
Service to state, county, and local public education
agencies took more than one form. As in the 1924 instance
242
cited above, on a few occasions consensus of the School
of Education faculty was sought and supplied. More com
monly, however, as in the case of Dean Rogers' state
committee membership described by Dr. Weersing, professors
accepted consultantships and served in advisory capacities
too numerous and, in most instances, of too little conse
quence to the history of the School of Education to be
here recounted. Collectively, they were part of the
larger picture of corollaries of full professional status
--encouraged by the University, they continue to the
present day.
School Surveys
One form taken by professorial consultantships was
performance of school surveys. According to Walquist
et al.: "It might be said that many of the studies by
such men as Henry Barnard and Horace Mann were forerunners
of the modern school survey" (1952, p. 505). The first
"modern school survey," in the sense mentioned by Walquist
et al. and discussed in this section, was undertaken in
Boise, Idaho, about I9I0 (O'Leary, p. 18), In the decade
from 1910 to 1920, school surveys became widespread. A
243
graduate course entitled "School Surveys" was listed in
the very first Bulletin of the School of Education (Sep
tember 1918, p. 13). By the middle of the next decade, a
basic textbook in the field, Jesse B. Sears' School Sur
veys (1925), obtained wide popularity.
On the subject of school surveys, Walquist et al.
(to the modern reader, a dated textbook in school adminis
tration) is especially germane because it contains a
relatively full discussion written shortly before the year
which delimits the present study and thus sets forth posi
tions on school surveys which typify those held by in
formed educators of the era. It reads in part as follows;
The term [school surveys] . . . has been applied
to careful factual studies of educational condi
tions and results together with constructive
criticisms of the findings. Emphasis should be
placed upon two of the adjectives used in this
définition--factual studies and constructive
criticisms. One of the major purposes of a
survey should be to secure, analyze, and evalu
ate facts, and on the basis of such facts to
offer constructive recommendations for improve
ments. In order to be of value a school survey
must be objective and unbiased; and it must be
conducted with the one controlling objective of
seeking ways and means of improving the effici
ency of the schools. . . . The values to be
attained through a good survey may be great, and
there can be little question that the survey
technique has had a pronounced and beneficial
effect on the improvement of educational
244
programs and on school administration (p. 505).
Furthermore, besides helping the affected districts,
the surveys boosted the status of schools of education by
demonstrating the scientific methods advocated by profes
sors of education. As expressed by Dr. Charles H. Judd,
then Director of the School of Education of the University
of Chicago, in 1930:
No greater stimulus to the science of education
has ever been provided than that which came
through the surveys. Here scientific methods
had an opportunity to operate on a large scale.
Through surveys a vast body of factual material
was recorded in a form immediately available for
students of education. In not a few instances
surveys have furnished the occasion for the in
vention of new and useful techniques (in Eurich,
1931, p. 69).
Moreover, Judd asserted, every university school of
education should have a research fund for "mature pro
jects" of its faculty members, among them school surveys.
Surveys present opportunities for service and
for contacts with practical school situations.
The advantages of constantly bringing members
of the faculties of schools of education into
contact with practical school conditions are
so obvious that they need not be set forth in
detail. The argument that is appropriate . . .
refers not to the advantages accruing to indivi
duals but rather to the fact that surveys help
to correct the tendency toward isolation that
threatens institutions. A survey affects not
merely the individuals who conduct it but also
245
the institution that sponsors it (in Eurich,
pp. 76-77).
Almost immediately upon Willard Stanley Ford's af
filiation with the University in 1926, Hull and Ford
formed their school survey team "partnership. ' ' That same
year the course in School Surveys was reintroduced into
the Bulletin as Education 214 and designated as Hull's
responsibility (XX, 12 [December 1925], p. 45). In 1927,
the course became Hull and Ford's shared responsibility
(Bulletin, XXI1, 12 [December 1927], p. 57) and continued
thus until 1935, when Ford's name was omitted from the
Bulletin and Hull's was again alone with Education 214
(XXX, 2 [February 28, 1935, p. 87).
With Hull and Ford in charge of the course and Dean
Rogers fully supportive, a logical step was for the pair
to perform surveys for interested districts (the Dean was
consultant on several of the surveys). In one case on
record--that of the Santa Monica School District--the
large staff of survey assistants was made up of "a Survey
Class composed of Santa Monica Teachers and Executives"
(Hull and Ford, 1927b, p. 2); this was a convenient means
of obtaining a knowledgeable staff to gather data within
246
the district and of providing practical field work ex
perience for the aspiring school administrators in
Education 214.
The most ambitious survey undertaken by Hull and
Ford was their monumental study of the Los Angeles City
Schools (1934). During the mid-1930's, the district was
beset by problems probably comparable in scope and seri
ousness only to those of today. Organizationally, the
system was, in a word, a shambles. The board was split.
There were rumors of corruption in high places. On Sep
tember 27, 1934, a recall election was held for three
board offices (Minutes, II [September 17, 1934J, p. 223).
Hull described some of the specific problems graphically:
The survey was instigated by an upheaval elec
tion year .... [F]our were elected on a
reform program, . . . Well, the first motion
they made was to fire the business manager, which
they did, because he had gotten in the hair of
all the teachers. . . . And the second thing
they did was to move to fire the secretary of the
board. . . . Then they moved to fire the super
intendent [Frank Bouelle] and found out he had a
four-year contract and couldn't. . . . they'd
promised these people who'd campaigned for them,
they'd promised them jobs, so they let out three
hundred custodians and filled the positions with
[their supporters] . . . talk about spoils sys-
tems--well, they had it.' (1968).
247
It was logical for the district to turn to Univers
ity of Southern California people for help; the relation
ship between the public agency and the private institution
had long been cordial and cooperative. Moreover, the new
reform board president, Edward H. Hauck, knew Professor
Hull as a fellow educator and--the implication is clear--
respected his sound and sincere professionalism (Hull,
1968). The survey started officially in 1933 and did not
end until 1938, but the actual survey was made and the
report published by 1934 (Sargent, p. 60).
First, Dean Hull:
All these relationships.' Now the biggest problem
was communications. They sent out bulletin after
bulletin after bulletin; you'd go into a high
school, there'd be a stack of bulletins that big,
not classified. So they had to call the offices
and ask, What do we do about this? The lines to
the superintendent's office were choked. 1 asked
one top official downtown . . . "What takes up
most of your time?" He says, "Cooling my heels
waiting for an answer from the superintendent."
No policies. . . . We went through all these
bulletins . . . and I dictated all these policies
and classified them, and they came out in a loose
leaf book. , . . They set up a special office
to send out the new policy and tell them to tear
up the old one and things began to speed up. . . .
[W]e recommended . . . that they set up some sort
of civil service system for non-teaching employ
ees. . . . I studied federal, state, and county
civil service procedures . . . and adapted it to
a school system . . . the board . . . set up
248
their own personnel commission, . . . [W]e got
the legislature to adopt that almost verbatim as
a law permitting school districts to adopt what
is now called the merit system .... So from
that time on anybody who came into the non
teaching service had to pass examinations and
be classified, and the salaries were paid accord
ing to classification. . . . I don't want to
brag, but I'm the author of that whole business
(Hull, 1968).
Dean Hull also spoke revealingly of the reorganiza
tion of the district's superstructure:
They had a four-headed system: the business
manager reported directly to the board; the
secretary of the board reported directly to the
board; the superintendent of schools reported
directly to the board; and the auditor who hand
led all the finances. At every board meeting
each of these heads reported directly to the
board .... There was no head of the school
system. Each of these four departments had
separate salary schedules for identical duties
for their non-teaching personnel. . . . [I]n
our recommendation we set the superintendent
up as the executive to the board, and these other
people were made associates (Hull, 1968).
As interpreted by Sargent, the survey resulted in
marked improvement within the system, with "[m ]any of the
recommendations relative to organization and procedure
. . . in effect during . . . 1934-1935" (p. 60).
But there were great disappointments, too, resulting
from the survey. In terms of the report's recommenda
tions, several salient ones were at first adopted and
249
then scuttled or, one might infer from the comments of
Sargent, Hull, and Weersing, sabotaged. Said Sargent,
The survey led to the omission of much that was
unessential in the organization and curricula
of the schools. A serious problem pertained to
vertical vs. horizontal supervision of instruc
tion and curriculum. Here, again, it was evid
ent how delicate and peculiarly difficult is
the work of the Superintendent and his assist
ants. The vertical plan was adopted ....
[But s]ome assistants and directors felt more
skilled in only one level . . . however, under
this plan they were required to cover all three
levels, the elementary, junior high school and
senior high school levels. It is interesting
to note that this vertical plan was abandoned
in 1937 . . . (Sargent, p. 61).
Resistance to some of the recommended changes was
plainly deepseated among some of the staff. It remained
to be seen whether the resistance would take tangible
form. Dean Hull was frank on this point. In his own
case, he had been retained only as a consultant to work
at implementing the survey's recommendations. As he re
mained officially outside the school system's administra
tive structure, he came through the experience essentially
unscathed. In contrast. Dr. Ford had become so involved
with the inner workings of the system and so dedicated to
implementing the team's ideas that he accepted an assist
ant superintendency with the district for that purpose.
250
Dean Hull remembered the constellation of events surround
ing the decision as almost tragic for his former co-worker
but did not give details. Dr. Weersing, however, was
more explicit; and his observations were both mordant and
keen, as exemplified in the quotation below.
The Los Angeles survey was a great misfortune
for the public schools and for Ford--not for
Hull. It wasn't Hull's point of view that pre
vailed in that. It was Ford's point of view
and Ford's approach. Ford was Columbia-trained
and Hull was Berkeley-trained. Hull was trained
in his undergraduate work in physics and had a
high regard for the scientific method and all of
that. Ford was [not j .... Ford was given an
opportunity to participate in putting into effect
the recommendation of the survey regarding re
organization of the schools, particularly the
supervisory system. And he found out to his dis
may that while the administration apparently be
lieved in the survey and elected him, the great
mass of local individual school administrators
. . . wouldn't let him do anything. He finally
had to accept the job of supervising cafeterias,
and he had been an assistant superintendent hired
to put into effect this survey and then shape the
whole system. Well, he fortunately was able to
leave not too long after (Weersing, 1969).
It should not be concluded from this that the Hull
and Ford survey of the Los Angeles City Schools failed in
its mission. It did much--no, it was instrumental in im
proving the organizational structure and administrative
practices of that great system; both Hull and Sargent are
251
unequivocal at that point. The misfortune to the school
system alluded to by Dr. Weersing was a temporary worsen
ing of tensions among its personnel which worked to
stiffen resistance to change and thereby proved a detri
ment to the district's progress for a time. This turn of
events was partly a consequence of the kind of failure in
objectivity and in scholarly disinterest warned against
by critics of school surveys (see Walquist et al., pp.
508-509); ironically, the principal "perpetrator," Willard
S. Ford, was his own principal victim.
Thereafter, with Ford no longer a member of the
School of Education faculty, Dr. Hull took a new team
mate, Professor Irving Robert Melbo, a recent addition to
the faculty. The team of Hull and Melbo was destined to
perform many successful, objective, and useful surveys for
school districts near and far. In fact, more recently,
with Dean Hull in retirement. Dr. Melbo, himself now Dean
of the School of Education, has headed survey teams; he
is even at this writing so serving the Compton School
Districts.
252
The Teacher Training Coordinatorship
To round out the picture of the University’s working
relationship with the Los Angeles City Schools, it is
necessary momentarily to return to a subject on which
Drs. Thompson and Weersing have been quoted in Chapter V.
It will be recalled by way of background that after the
revelation of the University High School’s inadequacy had
resulted in a limited accreditation, a committee recom
mended to President von KleinSmid a sizable capital outlay
to bring the high school’s facilities up to standard, the
President rejected the idea, and the University abandoned
the high school soon thereafter. It will also be recalled
that what enabled the School of Education's secondary
teacher education program to weather the end of its on-
campus training facility was (to quote Chapter V) "the
willingness of the Los Angeles City Schools to cooperate,
first, in providing supervising teachers and conveniently
located schools where student teachers could engage in
directed teaching and, second, some time later, in being
receptive to a proposal propounded by Dr. Weersing," that
the school district release to the University "teacher
253
directors who would be given half or more time to super
vise a student or two, whom the University would pay"
(Weersing, 1969, as quoted in Chapter V).
These comments only hint at the long standing rela
tionship existing between the University of Southern
California and the Los Angeles City Schools. The record
shows that student teachers may have been placed, at the
High School as early as 1925 (The Personnel Division, Los
Angeles City School Districts, 1950, p. 102) and during
the regular school year at Foshay Junior High School as
early as 1926 (Minutes, I [September 11, 1926], p. 46),
But the record also shows that despite Dr. Weersing's
early initiative in broaching the subject of "teacher
directors" to Superintendent Dorsey, the University of
Southern California was not, as he believed, the first to
enter into a formal agreement with the Los Angeles City
Schools. Nor was a contract successfully negotiated dur
ing the superintendency of Susan M. Dorsey, which spanned
the years 1919 to 1929 (Sargent, p. 140),
The first contract was made and entered into on
October 4, 1935, between the University of California at
Los Angeles and the Board of the Los Angeles City High
254
School District. The agreement stipulated that the two
parties
mutually agree to maintain and operate during
the school year 1935-36 as part of the city
school system of the City of Los Angeles, the
University High School and the Ralph Waldo
Emerson Junior High School as officially desig
nated centers for the training of secondary
teachers (The Personnel Division, p. 130).
It was further stipulated that the University of
California at Los Angeles would appoint Directors of In
struction for the two secondary schools and pay their
salaries, and have a hand in the selection of the prin
cipals and vice-principals and the department heads, the
last-mentioned to serve as supervisors of student teaching
in their respective departments. The working time of the
department heads was to be divided: one-fifth to teach
ing, two-fifths to departmental supervision, and two-
fifths to the supervision of student teaching.
In consideration of the last-mentioned service
to the University, the University of California
at Los Angeles agrees to pay two fifths of the
regularly scheduled salary of each such employee
. . . (The Personnel Division, pp. 130-131).
The contract quoted above was the first ; its provi
sions, subsequently altered to eliminate some contentious
items about bonuses to teachers and principals and other
255
details and to allow for greater flexibility, set the
precedent for comparable arrangements with other institu
tions, including the University of Southern California
(The Personnel Division, pp. 28-32 et passim).
Thus, the agreement with the University of Southern
California, initiated in 1940, was the second to be con
cluded by the Los Angeles City Schools, The 1950 Person
nel Division report reproduces the contract "used annually
with minor adjustments since 1940." Its key stipulation
reads as follows;
The District shall extend to the Training Depart
ment, [University of Southern California], the
privilege of assigning student candidates for
secondary teaching credentials to classes taught
by teachers regularly employed by the Los Angeles
City High School District, and the District here
by grants admittance of such properly qualified
students of the University to such classes for
the purpose of observation, participation and
supervised teaching under the guidance of such
members of its regular teaching staff as may be
approved for such service . . . (pp. 133-34).
Thereby was established the student teaching arrangement.
Another part of the agreement covered "teacher train
ing coordinators." To clarify the terminology, in the
first contract, the phrase "department chairmen" had been
used; later, "training teachers" became common since they
256
were no longer necessarily department chairmen; but that
term was confusing because it has usually been applied to
the teacher in whose classroom the student teacher per
forms directed teaching; so "teacher training coordinat
ors" was adopted. The teacher training coordinators were
described in the agreement as
certain regularly employed teachers of the staff
of the Los Angeles High School District [who]
. . . assist the staff of the Training Department
of the University in the supervision of the work
of said secondary school teachers (p. 133).
As set forth by Mrs. Rose Taylor Stelter, who wrote
the Personnel Division's oftquoted "Report on Preservice
Teacher Education in the Los Angeles City Schools" (1950),
The plan provides "teacher training coordinators"
who are City School teachers, selected jointly
by the institution and the City Schools, part of
whose time is leased to the institution to assist
in the supervision of student teachers and to
coordinate relationships concerning student teach
ers between the one institution and the City
Schools (p. 91).
When the Personnel Division report was written,
"[t]he four colleges [chronologically, UCLA, USC, Occid
ental, and Pepperdine--pp. 96-96, passim] with whose
program teacher training coordinators [we]re connected
reimburse[d] the City School District for two sixths of
257
the coordinators' time per year at the secondary level
and for two fifths of the coordinators' time at the
elementary level" (p. 92).
Over the years, major alterations were to be effected
in directed teaching and teacher training coordinators'
assignments. At the outset, coordinators were part of
individual school staffs, as stipulated in the original
contract with UCLA, quoted above. Therefore, University
of Southern California student teachers were assigned
almost exclusively to Manual Arts High, Foshay Junior
High, or Thirty-Second Street School, as appropriate to
their level; and the coordinators were members of those
schools' staffs. However, dispersal of student teachers
to other schools occurred as their numbers increased.
To the writer of the 1950 Personnel Division report,
the concentration of student teachers and coordinators in
a few authorized "training schools" was problematical on
three specific counts; 1) overcrowding with student
teachers, 2) inbreeding of faculty, and 3) development of
a distinctive educational atmosphere, "quite separate, in
fact, even to the content and organization of some phases
of the curriculum" (pp. 52-53). The report heralded
258
dispersal and recommended its adoption as policy. In a
conversation with the present writer, Professor Wendell
Cannon, currently Chairman of the Department of Secondary
Education, who was Director of Teacher Education from 1948
until the mid-1960's, recalled that systematic dispersal
was instituted soon after the report's presentation
(Cannon, 1969), although the three schools named above,
because of their experience and proximity, continued to
carry a major portion of the load.
One effect of the change was to remove the coordinat
ors from their district assignments as department chairmen
and/or classroom teachers on even a part-time basis.
Their responsibilities then became those of traveling
among the various schools in the district which accommod
ated student teachers to observe their charges and to
confer with supervising teachers and administrators; to
meet on occasion with the district's director of preserv
ice teacher education at the district offices ; and, since
they were on the University campus to teach methods semin
ars and to keep office hours for consultation with stud
ent teachers, to become more integrated into the faculty
of the School of Education than they had previously had
259
the opportunity to do.^
At this point in the present study, the tenets of
historicity demand disclosures that tend to contradict
the records cited in the Personnel Division report.
Other evidence implies informal cooperation antedating
even the first signed contract for student teaching and
district coordinators. Early numbers of the Bulletin in
cluded dozens of teachers as subject matter and grade
level supervisors and the principals of 36*^^ Street School,
32nd Street School, Foshay Junior High School, and Manual
Arts High School, in their capacities as Los Angeles City
Schools principals, as members of the School of Education
faculty as long ago as 1925 (Bulletins, XX, XXI, XXII, et
seq., passim). Later, the Minutes of September 14, 1939,
record that among new faculty members introduced at that
meeting, in addition to Professors Melbo and Nila Blanton
Smith (who was to become nationally known as an authority
on reading), were "Coordinators Chance, Kraeft, Hood,
^The present writer attests firsthand that this pat
tern still prevails. Perhaps of interest is that at the
University of Southern California the "instructor-coordin-
ators'" newest appelation is "clinical instructors."
260
Reinhardt, Wood, and Mrs. Noblett in Elementary Education
whose services are loaned by the Los Angeles City Depart
ment of Education" (II: 303; italics supplied). Still
later, the names Hood, Kraeft, and Noblitt (sic) recurred
as "Instructor-Coordinators" (Bulletin, 41 [May 1946], p.
10), corroborating their school system affiliation.
So, from the evidence that unwritten agreements were
operant prior to the UCLA-LACS contract of 1935, between
the University of Southern California and the Los Angeles
City Schools, and from the fact that Dr. Weersing believed
USC to have been the first to be involved in such an
arrangement, inferences arise. To be explicit, the prob
ability is that other factors worked to expedite success
ful negotiation of an agreement between UCLA and the
school system and to delay one with USC. First, both
the University High School, adjoining the Westwood campus,
and Emerson Junior High School were new plants with whose
new administrative and teaching staffs working relation
ships would have to be developed; in contrast, Foshay
Junior High School and Manual Arts High School were es
tablished schools with whose staffs the School of Educa
tion had had long-standing working relationships. Second,
261
it is not unlikely that the information Dr. Weersing sup
plied in the letter he spoke of helped educate the Los
Angeles City Schools staff to the nature of the arrange
ment; it is also not improbable that the teacher training
specialists at UCLA were in this instance more aggressive
than their counterparts at USC in negotiating a signed
contract. This was perhaps to be expected, for the Uni
versity of California, like the Los Angeles City Schools,
is a public agency; as creatures of the law, public agen
cies are by custom and mandate more inclined to enter
into formal agreements. The University of Southern Cali
fornia, being a private institution with much greater
flexibility and freedom of action, and with effective
informal agreements in force, would be reluctant to pre
cipitate formalization--and complication--of what was for
its part already a satisfactory arrangement.
These inferences are supported by the knowledge that
the school system initiated formalization, as noted in
the Personnel Division report as follows;
While no files exist to prove the statement, ex
cellent authorities declare that the coordinator
system was developed with this institution at
this time because of difficulties that had arisen
in relations between a University supervisor and
262
members of the staffs of certain City Schools.
At the time the City School System decided
through the liaison functions of coordinators
to reduce the necessity for the presence of Uni
versity supervisors in City Schools (p. 97).
While this enigmatic statement is itself not conject
ural, citing as it does "excellent authorities," from the
standpoint of historicity, as to the cause it is at best
second-hand; as it does not identify its "authorities,"
it must be treated as unreliable in attribution of motive
without more scholarly and valid substantiation,^
^Moreover, its innuendo elicits conjecture from a de
fensive posture. One is inclined to ask: Is blame to be
laid? If so, at whose feet? Was the School of Education
coordinator in question outspokenly critical of what he
(or she) observed? Was the criticism justified? Did the
coordinator attempt to exercise undue authority? How
could the problem of one coordinator--even one who may
have been an incompetent meddler--be so knotty as to
require an inclusive written contract to unravel it?
A certain self-righteousness manifests itself in the
quoted paragraph and in other sections of the report which
describe the attitude of the school system toward the
"Origin of the Problems" with UCLA (pp. 30-31); "The
Warner Avenue controversy," again, with UCLA (pp. 60-61);
"The Los Feliz School controversy," this with Los Angeles
State College (pp. 61-63); and in the report writer's
following comment :
It must be borne in mind that to date, active in
terest in teacher training is found solely in col
leges, not in public schools. Hence, agreements
and developments tend to be weighted heavily in
the interests of the institutions. This implies
no criticism of the institutions but merely points
263
If the writer of the Personnel Division report came
to a few faulty conclusions about some aspects of the co
operative teacher training programs, she was more careful
about searching out documentary sources for hard data
about the programs. (Some relevant data are portrayed in
Table III.) Perhaps a consequence of the method and the
findings is that the report's overall conclusions and
recommendations were in the main more temperate than the
preliminary ones. For example, the report evaluated the
position of the coordinator as essential to the relations
between the school system and the contracting institutions
--in that, it may have been correct. But the report exag
geratedly interpreted the coordinators' inclusion as mem
bers of the faculty of the School of Education and assign-
to the fact that the functions, point of view,
and even the welfare of public schools may tend
to be overlooked in the evolving organization
of relationships (p. 34).
If a theme emerges from the present study, it will derive
from a position on the part of its subject which unequi
vocal ly contradicts the assertions of the quotation. It
becomes increasingly apparent that the School of Education
has consistently been characterized by a sustaining sense
of its service and its subservience to the welfare of the
public schools in the evolving organization of relation
ships to which the remarks alluded.
264
Table 3
NUMBERS OF LOS ANGELES CITY SCHOOLS TEACHER TRAINING
COORDINATORS ASSIGNED TO THE
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
Date Teacher Time Number of Coordinators
Elementary
1941-42 3 V5
Secondary
1
1940-42 1 37/40 4
1941-42 1 V3 4
1942-43 2/6 1
1943-44 *2/6
** 1
1944-45 2/6 1
1945-46 1 4/6 5
1946-47 1 4/6 5
1946-47 1 3
1947-48 1 2/6 4
1948-49 2 6
1949-50 3 9
^Increased to 2/6 for last three months of school year.
**Increased to
school year.
two coordinators for last three months of
(The Personnel Division, p. 25).
265
ment as instructors of the methods courses which accom
panied student teaching as evidence that "[t]o the two
major institutions which have been using the coordinators,
the services of these teachers are sine qua non." Never
theless, the report concluded reasonably that
[t]he procedures and practices involved have
grown out of the cooperative thinking of large
numbers of Los Angeles City Schools and institu
tional personnel during a period of many years.
So long as the institutions wish to continue to
use this successful arrangement for supervision,
it should probably not be greatly disturbed . . .
(pp. 98-99, passim).
At the last, reflecting on the concept and functions
of the teacher training coordinatorship as a whole, the
report concluded that "[t]he arrangements by institutions
for the services of coordinators is the ideal, cooperative
implementation of such a contract," a generous appraisal
which it then coupled with the prediction that "[t]he
eminent past success of this joint undertaking in preserv
ice training will cement relations and confirm success in
future cooperation as will no other aspect of the program"
(p. 100).
It is difficult to assess whether the coordinator-
ships have indeed served preeminently to cement relations.
266
as the report predicted. Since the report is as of 1950,
and the present study is delimited to the year 1953, such
judgment is mainly outside its scope. A few comments may,
however, be in order. The arrangement began during a time
of teacher surplus--to some extent as an educational ex
periment. It was expanded for convenience and to formal
ize a working agreement. Later, it took on a new hue as
the teacher shortages of World War II and of the postwar
era took hold. So long as teacher shortages prevailed,
and they continued at an emergency level long after 1953,
the coordinators were a relatively inexpensive means for
the Los Angeles City Schools to recruit new teachers who
had been thoroughly screened by the coordinators, the
latter having been handpicked for excellence of judgment
consistent with the system's own internal standards of
performance. In one year--1948-49, the year cited by the
Personnel Division report--of 2,380 student teachers who
had trained in the city schools, 734 (p. 8), or 30.8%
were hired. Of the total group, 1,225 were USC student
teachers; 314 of them, or 25.7%, were hired by the dis
trict, a lower but still favorable ratio. In terms of
cost, the report estimated "$173.00 per student teacher
267
for those they hire from among those they train" based on
proration of total cost over only those hired--$52.00 per
student teacher otherwise. And the figures were gathered
in a "spot check of only one in ten of the new teachers
hired" that year; there was no way to know how many of
the others had been trained in previous years under Los
Angeles City Schools teacher training coordinators (p. 8).
If one may deviate from strict documentation and rely
for a moment on personal and "common" knowledge, it may be
observed that a teacher selection department has blossomed
since World War Two in the administrative offices of the
Los Angeles City Schools. In addition to the regular
operating costs, nationwide recruitment excursions by
teacher selection personnel have been underwritten almost
as standard procedure, with the predictable result that
along with the worthy and successful would be brought the
substandard, the unknown, and the misfits of other places.
No cost analysis of the various selection operations has
come to light. But the inclination in this brief hiatus
from stringent reliance on cited sources is to surmise
that the "homegrown variety" have carried lower price tags
and provoked much less anxiety than have the importations.
268
So the resilient teacher training coordinators pro
gram has served its creators well. The record shows
stability of personnel, attesting to satisfaction on the
part of both contracting parties (Bulletins, 39, 43, 45,
et seq. , passim). But it seems an overstatement to de
scribe the coordinatorship as the preeminent factor in
the history of cooperative relations between the Los
Angeles City Schools and the School of Education.
USC Alumni in the Los Angeles City Schools
As important as any single factor in engendering a
spirit of cordiality and sustaining it has been the fact
that so many of the school system's teachers and admin
istrators have, over the years, been USC alumni. The
roll is extremely long, but a few instances will serve
to illustrate.
Susan M, Dorsey, superintendent of the Los Angeles
system from 1919 to 1929 (Sargent, p. 140), accepted an
honorary LL.D. at commencement in 1920 (Alumni Magazine.
October 1920, p. 12). In 1929, Frank A. Bouelle, class
of '12, succeeded Mrs. Dorsey in the superintendency.
That year, of the system's nine assistant superintendents.
269
six were "USC men" (Alumni Review, X, 6 [February 1929],
p. 9). Superintendent Bouelle held a great fondness for
his alma mater. Said he to an Alumni Review reporter.
Among my pleasantest memories are the days spent
at the University of Southern California in the
classes of some of her great teachers. Their
lives of unselfish devotion to the cause of edu
cation will ever be an inspiration and a guide
to the students who were fortunate enough to
come under their influence (Alumni Review, X, 6
[February 1929], pp. 8-9).
He was destined to put that affection to the test, for he
was to head the schools through the years of the Hull and
Ford Survey until 1937 (Sargent, p. 140).
Bouelle was followed in the Los Angeles superintend
ency by other USC graduates. Most well-known, perhaps,
was his immediate successor, Vierling Kersey, '16, who
moved from the position of State Superintendent of Public
Instruction, which he assumed in 1929, to the Los Angeles
assignment, remaining in the latter superintendency until
1948 (Alumni Review, XVI, 6 [February 1935], p. 14;
Servin and Wilson, pp. 216-217). Former Superintendent
Kersey worked closely with the School of Education during
his professionally active years; he was, among other
things. President of the Trojan Teachers Club (Alumni
270
Review, X, 7 [March 1929], p. 8). He is still active in
Los Angeles affairs as a private citizen and still close
to the University. After Kersey, three other USC alumni
were Los Angeles superintendents; their tenure postdates
the present study. They were Claude Reeves (1954-66),
Ellis A. Jarvis (1956-62), and Jack P. Crowther (1962-
1970).
Among the numerous USC graduates who over the years
have become Los Angeles City Schools principals, the name
of-Ethel Percy Andrus stands out historically. Dr. And
rus, Ph. D., '30, became principal of Lincoln High School
in 1916 and served in that capacity for more than twenty
years. During her tenure she served intermittently in an
adjunct capacity on the faculty of the School of Education
(Alumni Review, XVI, 3 [November 1934], p. 16). Said Dr.
Weersing of Dr. Andrus :
I was on Mrs. Andrus's committee when she got her
doctorate. I didn't have to do anything except
read her dissertation. I wasn't able to tell her
anything . . . that she didn't already know long
ago and better than I did.
She founded the first California Retired Teachers
Association, then the National Retired Teachers
Association, then the National Association of
Retired Persons (Weersing, 1969).
271
In sum, then, weighing, on the one hand, the school
system's tribulations of the 1930's, the complications of
the Hull and Ford survey, the effects of World War Two,
and the impact of teacher shortages against, on the other
hand, the infusion of the system with teachers and admin
istrators who count among the University's alumni, the
record of cooperation recounted above, and a plethora of
occurrences of coordination and complementation that have
characterized the relations of the two entities, the
scales are heavily tipped to the positive side. That more
ponderous differences than those which have been noted
between the Los Angeles City Schools and the University
of Southern California have been virtually non-existent
bespeaks a healthy and stable working association of long
duration.
Teacher Placement
The preceding discussion of the teacher training
coordinatorship and fleeting references to USC alumni who
have filled important posts with the Los Angeles City
Schools documents that district's historic reliance upon
the School of Education and the University at large as
272
sources of staff. By reason of its proximity, its sheer
size, and its insatiable need for teachers and other
credentialed personnel, the Los Angeles City Schools Dis
trict has been the largest single consumer of USC pro
ducts. But the record shows that other districts, inevit
ably and admittedly smaller and more modest in the number
of personnel each could absorb, have likewise found the
University a multifaceted source of services as well as
of products.
In this connection, mention has been made earlier
herein of the professorial consultantships and school
survey teams which so many districts have relied upon over
the years. Documentation of other kinds of utilization
also abounds.
It will be recalled, for example, that summer ses
sions at the University were originally instigated by
teachers. Summer session offerings expanded under Dean
Rogers' leadership--he was for many years Dean of the
Summer Session--with particular attention to the needs of
teachers and administrators for credential courses,
special seminars, and courses in subject matter discip
lines; and public school people found it convenient and
273
profitable to spend their summers studying at USC. One
year, 1931, the administration of the Long Beach City
Schools was inquisitive enough to ascertain that of its
206 teachers attending summer sessions, "118 came to the
University of Southern California" (Minutes, I [January
29, 1932], p. 190).
During the regular school year, teachers were like
wise in attendance in large numbers. However, as they
were regularly employed, they could not attend classes
meeting in the mornings or early afternoons. Thus the
Metropolitan College, which had been established in 1924
in the downtown area ostensibly to service business stu
dents, found itself satisfying teachers' needs for
classes at "odd hours"--late afternoons, evenings and
Saturday mornings.
For many years Education classes were held under
the direction of University College [new name of
Metropolitan College] on the uppermost floors of
the Transportation Building, Seventh and Los An
geles Streets, downtown Los Angeles in the late
afternoon and evening. They were also held as
University Extension classes under University
College in nearly all the neighboring towns and
cities (Thompson, n.d., p. 2).
Later, University College returned to the campus under
the successive direction of Dr. Emory Olson, Dr. Thomas
274
W. McQuarrie (£.v.), Dr. Ernest W. Tiegs, (another Pro
fessor of Education) and, last within the purview of this
study. Dr. Carl Hancey (likewise from the School of Edu
cation). In 1931 Dean Tiegs reported that 1,282 teachers
were enrolled in University College's winter quarter
(Alumni Review, 12, 8 [April 931], p. 28).
(While teachers' attendance at University College
and University summer session is meaningful both to the
University and to employing school districts, it does not
connote official arrangements between the public agencies
and the private institution. Individual teachers act in
dependently when they choose where they will study. But
many benefits accrue to school districts from such study,
and they encourage it through several means, perhaps the
principal one being by salary schedule advancement for
college units earned.)
Corroboration of official, directly coordinated
liaisons between the School of Education and many school
districts--Long Beach, Pasadena and Santa Monica, to name
but three--took the form of frequent references in Uni
versity publications to a variety of joint ventures.
Added evidence that the credential programs gener-
275
ously distributed their products during the period under
study may be found in the hundreds of items in University
publications (mainly but not solely in the Alumni Review)
reporting affiliation, promotion, or distinctive achieve
ment of this alumna or that alumnus with any one of
dozens of school districts.
One especially interesting entry sets forth the
"Distribution of U.S.C. Alumni in California Schools" as
of 1921 (Alumni Magazine, April 1921, pp. 25-26). This
compilation is special on several counts. First, it is
unique--the only one of its kind that has come to light.
Second, it complements data on the number of credentials
earned by successful candidates at the School of Educa
tion. ^ Third, it therefore contains information that is
intrinsically material to the present study.
To be specific, the list shows that as early as 1921,
only three years after the founding of the School of Edu
cation, USC alumni were teaching in secondary schools all
^Gates' history of the University informs that between
1884 and 1925, 134 secondary credentials were earned (p.
279); this suggests that virtually all of the successful
candidates were subsequently employed as teachers.
276
over the state. Moreover, the numbers are impressive (see
Footnote 6 in order to make an interesting comparison):
a total of 253 teachers dispersed to 86 school districts,
including (and these make up only a smattering) Alhambra,
Banning, Beaumont, Burbank, Calexico, Chino, Claremont,
Compton, Downey, Fresno, Fullerton, Glendale, Hemet,
Inglewood, Lancaster, La Verne, Long Beach, Los Angeles,
Modesto, Monrovia, Nevada City (Nevada), Needles, Norwalk,
Oakland, Ontario, Oxnard, Palo Alto, Pasadena, Pomona,
Redlands, Riverside, San Bernardino, San Jose, Santa Ana,
Santa Barbara, Santa Monica, Torrance, Tulare, and
Visalia.
Possibly even more significant than the contents of
the list, partial or total, is the fact that the compila
tion was performed and published. Considering the nature
of the data, the research should have been formidable.
It would seem that more than the University family's
curiosity about the whereabouts of its teaching alumni
was involved in the decision to gather the data. It is
logical to infer that interest in the information, will
ingness to gather it, and authorization to do it, all
imply a commitment within the University to continuous
Ill
discharge of its teacher placement responsibility and
periodic painstaking inspection of the results.
This matter of the University's concern with teacher
placement has been introduced in Chapter IV in a brief
section on the opening of the Teachers' Appointment Regis
try in 1917. With its inception, the School of Education
took over and maintained the service in its own offices
until 1923. That year. President von KleinSmid returned
the Appointment Office to the University at large, moved
it to the administration offices, and named Miss Edith
Weir, L.A. '12, as Appointment Secretary (Alumni News, IV,
1 I February 1923j, p. 7).
Soon thereafter. Miss Weir described the Appointment
Office as a "Clearing House for Occupations," explaining
that
[tjhe department originated in the School of
Education for the placing of teachers, and
that is still the largest part of its work.
Now, however, the University assists graduates
from all departments in securing positions
(Alumni News, IV, 4 [May 1923], p. 5).
She went on to elucidate the activities and problems which
engaged her. Her description, quoted at some length be
low, reveals something of the times in which it was
278
written, the kinds of part-time jobs college students were
offered, and an ingratiating style.
During the spring and summer months our main work
is snatching the seniors from their paper writing
long enough to learn their life history, length
of hair and particular accomplishments, and equip
ment for employment. We also allow them to give
us some 32 for 50 cents photos for distribution
into various parts of the country.
Then our troubles start, attempting to keep the
applicants in line until the proper principal or
employer arrives. Sometimes we succeed.
Among the points of information we should keep
at our fingertips are: Size of towns and schools
throughout the State, wardrobe necessary for each
place, number of movies in town, number of elig
ible young men, and many more of less vital in
terest.
Our troubles, frequently, are not over when an
applicant accepts a position, whether or not
through our assistance, because many forget to
notify us of their success. After holding them
on the available list for some time, when we think
we can fill a position, we find ourselves with
no candidates. This is more true of those seek
ing teaching positions than those in commercial
lines.
The newer branch of the appointment work is that
of centralizing request for student part time
help. . . .
[Ljet us give you a few of our problems.
If possible we prefer to be called before start
ing the heater when a young man is wanted to wash
the ceiling. In choosing waiters only the one
can be considered who can fit the white coats of
his predecessor. Frequently when you want Japan
ese or Filipino help we must persuade you other
wise according to our supply.
Finding someone to make a typewriter talk German
on dictation is not among the easiest calls to
279
fill, but we can find a tutor for both ancient
and modern Greek,
Opportunities for selling on commission basis
are the most plentiful of any position offered,
and the very hardest to give away. . . . We
have many more calls for girls to live in homes
in exchange for a small amount of labor than we
can fill. We manage to keep the neighborhood
lawns fairly well cut though sometimes it is
rather difficult (p. 5).
Despite Miss Weir's demonstrated comprehensiveness of
approach to her tasks, the rapid growth of the University
student and alumni population soon outstripped her capa
city to service all the calls for employees, employment,
and other vocational assistance. Consequently, beginning
in 1926, the General Alumni Association undertook to oper
ate a University Bureau of Employment; and the Appointment
Office was thenceforth restricted to aiding "students and
graduates of the University to obtain positions in the
teaching profession" (Bulletin, XXIV, 16 [December 1929],
pp. 21-22; on the origin and operation of the Bureau of
Employment, see "The President's Page," Alumni Review,
XII, 8 [April 1931], p. 5).
Thereafter, Miss Weir became an integral part of the
School of Education's service to its students and alumni
and to school districts seeking credentialed personnel.
280
The annual Bulletins unfailingly described the Appointment
Office and referred eligible candidates to the Appointment
Secretary. From time to time during the late 1920's and
the 19 30’s, Dean Rogers would convey to the faculty of
the School of Education the sense of Miss Weir's memoranda
to him. One such communication, for example, contributes
a rare allusion to the effects on the University of the
Great Depression of the 1930's. At the meeting of Septem
ber 15, 1931, the Dean reported "that the Appointment
Office of the University of Southern California ha[d]
about 500 teachers who ha[d] not been placed" (Minutes,
I: 187).
Ten years later, at the meeting of March 11, 1941,
Dean Rogers again presiding. Miss Weir was present to
participate in the first order of business, an informal
discussion of "teacher placement problems" (Minutes, II;
333). From that time on, until 1948, Miss Weir often
attended faculty meetings and presented her reports per
sonally. After 1948, her name does not again appear in
the Minutes among those present.
Although the Appointment Office became the "Bureau
of Teacher Placement" as of 1936 and Miss Weir was desig-
281
nated its "Director" (Bulletin, XXXI, 4 [March 15, 1936],
pp. 16, 25), as long as Miss Weir retained that position,
the placement office was "maintained by the University"
and never subordinated to the School of Education. As
Dean Hull put it. Miss Weir was responsible "to von
KleinSmid only." Moreover, said Dean Hull,
we tried to take it [the Bureau of Teacher
Placement] over one time, and von KleinSmid
says, "No." (I was again, one of those
middlemen, chairman of the committee.) We
went to von KleinSmid and we discussed it
with him. He says, "She's a University
placement officer, not an educational place
ment officer." She had placed engineers and
others like that, mainly teachers, but he
wouldn't give her up (Hull, 1968).
It was not until after Miss Weir's retirement, which
postdates the temporal delimitation of this study, that
the educational placement function was incorporated into
the School of Education and became the influential arm
that it is today.
Nevertheless, Miss Weir's work was evidently substan
tial and trusted. In 1944, Miss Weir presented to the
faculty "a comparative summary of registrations and place
ments through her office for the last four years, class
ified by sex, by degrees received, by credentials, and by
282
previous experience. A similar analysis of calls was pre
sented" (Minutes, II [November 22, 1944], pp. 391-392).
(The summary appears below as Table 4). To Miss Weir's
credit, the numbers in the summary are impressive. More
over, the tabulation is of historic interest insofar as
it reflects the effects of World War Two, when numbers of
applicants decreased as numbers of calls increased in
even greater proportion. And it shows an important break
through; for, whereas the office had processed no calls
for administrators in 1939-40, four years later there were
56. And, although teacher placement naturally currently
continues to predominate,at least numerically, in the work
of the office, which since 1960 has been designated as
Educational Placement (Bulletin, 55, 18 [May 1, 1960],
p. 15) in keeping with its broader scope, referral of
qualified candidates for administrative positions has be
come one of its major responsibilities. In general, the
manner and extent to which the Appointment Office and its
successors, the Bureau of Teacher Placement and Educa
tional Placement, have facilitated fruitful contacts be
tween School of Education applicants for placement and
acquisitive school districts is one of the success stories
283
Table 4
COMPARATIVE STATISTICS: APPOINTMENT OFFICE
Registered for Appointments
Men
Women
Holders of Bachelor's
degrees from U.S.C.
Credentials
Elementary
Secondary
Inexperienced
Out of State
1943-44 1939-40
Placements
334 (25%) 722 (48%)
642
975
217
233
529
175
301
Records Sent
Calls for
High School
Junior High School
Elementary
Junior College
Colleges in California
Out of State Colleges
Administration
Non teaching
2853
714
135
1423
38
49
98
56
163
3082
869
1641
411
239
1029
419
358
4067
334
39
576
34
43
43
T37Ô
(Minutes. II: 392),
284
of the School of Education.
Evolving Curricular Patterns
The theme of the present chapter is the coming of
age of the School of Education, whose rite de passage was
the action of the Board of Trustees in 1928 authorizing
the Doctor of Education degree. All the corollaries of
full professional status that have been touched on thus
far in the chapter would have remained only disjointed
fragments had not Dean Rogers and his faculty acted forth
with to effectuate curricular patterns for the doctoral
degree. As might be expected, the professors were equal
to the task.
Within weeks of the Board's action, upon the Dean's
request, "Dr. Touton presented a program for the Ed. D,
with two curricula; for Administrators and Supervisors,
and for Master Teachers of Academic Subjects, as worked
out by the Dean and Dr. Touton, and tentatively approved
by the President" (Minutes, I [June 28, 1928], p. 92),
The curricula were approved by the faculty with a few
alterations. Some six weeks later, in a memorandum to
Dean Rogers which has been made part of the collected
285
Minutes, the Registrar, Mr, Patmore, recapitulated the
University's understanding of what the School of Education
had stipulated for the Doctor of Education degree. The
understanding had been arrived at in deliberations of the
University Scholarship Committee and "confirmed by the
signature of the President" (Minutes, I [August 13, 1928],
p. 98).
The summary contained in the memorandum is both clear
and succinct. It also proved to be the embodiment of the
basic program for the degree, of which "all subsequent
programs" have been "modifications" (Thompson, n.d., p.
22). In view of its central importance, Mr. Patmore's
statement of "Suggested Requirements for the Degree of
Doctor of Education" is herewith quoted in full.
TIME AND AMOUNT - Three years or their equivalent, a min-
OF WORK imum of seventy-six units, beyond the
baccalaureate degree. In the seventy-
six units is included a doctor's dis
sertation for which credit of twelve
units is allowed.
RESIDENCE - In addition to the work for the dis
sertation, a candidate must complete
a minimum of twenty-four units (normal
ly the last year's work) for this deg
ree at the University of Southern Cal
ifornia.
Practical - Three years of successful teaching ex-
Experience perience satisfactory to the candid
ate's Guidance Committee.
286
REQUIREMENTS FOR
ADMISSION TO
ADVANCED PROFES
SIONAL STUDY FOR
THE Ed.D. DEGREE
APPLICATION FOR
ADMISSION TO
CANDIDACY
ADMISSION TO
CANDIDACY-
PRELIMINARY
EXAMINATION
The requirements for admission to the
advanced curriculum leading to the Ed.
D. degree are the baccalaureate degree
from the University of Southern Calif
ornia or a degree of equivalent stand
ing from another institution and the
completion of 12 semester units in Edu
cation. In special cases, significant
experience may be accepted in place of
6 of the above 12.
Application for admission to candidacy
should be filed with the Dean of the
School of Education at the beginning of
the second year of advanced profession
al study (after the completion of 28
units of advanced work). At this time
the student must secure a satisfactory
grade on a college aptitude test and
must present other evidence of his abi
lity to undertake the Ed.D. course.
The student will be asked to make known
his selection of the Administration-
Supervision or the Master Teacher cur
riculum. After the student has satis
fied the faculty of his fitness to un
dertake the work, the Dean will appoint
a Guidance Committee of five to direct
the student's program of study. The
guidance of the dissertation will be in
the hands of a committee of three re
sponsible to the Guidance Committee.
Before being admitted to candidacy for
the degree, and one year before the
candidate expects to apply for his fin
al examination, the student will be re
quired to pass a three hour oral exam
ination and such written examinations
covering the principal and subordinate
fields as may be deemed essential by
his Guidance Committee.
The prerequisites for this examination
are:
287
(a) Completion of 52 units (the last 12
may be in progress) of advanced
professional study acceptable to
the Guidance Committee.
(b) Command of the tools needed in
writing a dissertation, including
Advanced Statistics and a foreign
language if required by the Guid
ance Committee. A reading know
ledge of one foreign language is
required for the Master-Teacher
curriculum.
FINAL ORAL - When all other work has been completed,
EXAMINATION including the dissertation, the candid
ate will be required to pass a final
oral examination covering the disserta
tion and related problems.
DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK
Requirements in the School of Education
History and Philosophy of Education 8 units
Educational Psychology 8 units
One applied field 8 units
Two seminars, one of which must be in
the principal fields, the other probably
in the first subordinate field 8 units
Dissertation 12 units
(Total, 44 units)
Requirements outside the School of Education:
In approved related fields
Administrât ion-Supervis ion 12 to 18 units
For Master-Teacher (In a single field) ... 18 units
For Master-Teacher (In the same or
related fields) ................ 6 to 12 units
Approved electives in Education and related fields:
Administrât ion-Supervis ion ......... 14 to 20 units
For Master-Teacher ................... 4 to 10 units
Total 76 units
The fields in Education are as follows;
History of Education
Philosophy of Education
288
Educational Psychology
Elementary Education
Secondary Education
School Administration and Supervision
Vocational Education
(Minutes, I [August 13, 1928], pp. 96-98).
The preliminary examination portion was further de
tailed in a statement of degree requirements prepared in
October of the same year, which has also been placed
chronologically in the collected Minutes. The pertinent
section reads as follows;
The preliminary examination consists of (1)
written tests of approximately three hours in
length each in (a) History and Philosophy of
Education, (b) Educational Psychology, (c) one
elected applied field in Education approved by
the candidate's committee and (d) the subordin
ate field or fields; (2) an investigation of
some problem assigned by the chairman of his
committee in which the candidate will devote
approximately twenty hours in intensive study
and in the preparation of his report; and (3)
a conference with his Guidance Committee
(Minutes, I; 104).
The dissertation was considered to be "an integral
part of the candidate's program,"
written under immediate direction of the chair
man of the candidate's Guidance Committee. It
may deal with interpretative or constructive
work or a research problem (p. 105),
The final oral examination followed the acceptance
of the dissertation. In summary.
289
[a] candidate is eligible for the recommendation
of the faculty of the School of Education for the
degree of Doctor of Education on the satisfactory
completion of a three-year advanced professional
curriculum acceptable to his Guidance Committee
provided he has satisfied the residence require
ment, has satisfactorily passed all examinations,
and has presented an acceptable dissertation (p.
105).
The newly elevated School of Education formalized
the requirements for the Ed. D. as set down by Mr. Patmore
by including them virtually verbatim and without supple
mentation in its first Bulletin, dated December 1928
(XXIII, 14, pp. 22-23). Not until the next Bulletin did
a more detailed statement appear; this time it was the
School of Education's own October 1928 summary of the Ed.
D. requirements, slightly altered to include certain
modifications enacted by the faculty in the interim (XXIV,
16 [December 1929], pp. 30-34.
The substantive alterations were as follows:
1. The Administrâtion-Supervision option was expand
ed to ' ' Administrât ion-Supervis ion-Counsel or curriculum. ' '
2. The Master-Teacher curriculum specified inclusion
of elementary statistics as well as one foreign language.
3. The Administrâtion-Supervision-Counselor curric
ulum specified both elementary and advanced statistics but
290
made no mention of a foreign language alternative.
4. For both options, the list of possible "elected
applied fields" was expanded to include "Counseling-
Guidance."
5, A difference in the preliminary examination was
prescribed for the two curricula:
a. the fourth section of the Master-Teacher op
tion's examination covered the subordinate field
or fields;
b. the Administration-Supervision-Counselor
option substituted a "general examination in
Education covering the work not included in the
three major fields, and the related courses ap
proved by" the Guidance Committee as part of the
individual candidate's program (pp. 32-33
passim).
Although the "twenty hour problem" continued on the
books, it was, according to Dr. Thompson's recollection
"soon abandoned in practice" (Thompson, n.d., p. 24),
The abandonment apparently did occur, but somewhat in the
face of resistance from Dean Rogers. On August 22, 1935,
the Dean addressed a memorandum to "Chairmen of Committees
291
of Students Working for the Doctorate in Education" re
minding them of the requirement and suggesting that
"[wjhile some students may have been admitted to candidacy
without having fulfilled this requirement," such students
should be told that "this report is a necessary part of
their program and must be completed before they come up
for the finals, and presumably before they have progressed
very far with their dissertations." It appears that the
above quoted suggestion was not heeded, for on September
19, 1935, another such memorandum was addressed to the
same group, this time more urgently phrased; viz., "All
committees of candidates for the doctorate in Education
are asked to adhere rigorously to this requirement." But
this seemingly urgent directive was compromised by the
following qualifications:
In the case of candidates for the Ed. D. who have
already been admitted to candidacy, the require
ment may be regarded as optional. However, wher
ever the committee feels that there is a special
need and it can be administered without embarrass
ment, it is advisable to do so.
The implication of this softening of tone was that a
committee, through its chairman, could choose to ignore
the requirement until candidacy had been assured, then
292
rule it unnecessary within the option permitted. Inter
preted freely, the memorandum acknowledged the end of
rigid enforcement; yet the twenty-hour problem was to per
sist in the Bulletin until 1944-46, when it was omitted
from the doctoral program and ended officially.
From an historical perspective, these changes look
remarkably progressive for their time. The movement away
from insisting upon a foreign language for a professional
degree in Education had begun earlier in relation to the
Bachelor of Science in Education (see Chapter V). To
apply this obviation to the professional doctorate in
Education was an act responsive to the needs and compet
encies of the candidates and a logical extension of a
trend for which there was precedent at Harvard and Stan
ford (O'Leary, passim).
Conversely, the inclusion of "Counselor" as one of a
triad with "Administrâtion-Supervision" and of "Counseling
-Guidance" as a doctoral field equal to philosophy of edu
cation, secondary education, and the like was a step for
which no formal precedent seems to have existed, even if
there were de facto parallels.
At Harvard, for example, the Ed. D. program allowed
293
students "complete freedom--subject to the approval of
their advisors--to choose their own programs of study"
(O'Leary, p. 64); it was thus possible to elect guidance
and counseling as fields of concentration. But Harvard
did not formalize a program in "Vocational and Educational
Guidance" for an advanced degree until 1936, and that for
the Master of Education (O'Leary, pp. 88-89).
At Teachers College, Columbia, arrangements were much
the same as at Harvard (p. 162). In contrast, as recently
as 1940, the University of Michigan had made no allowance
for a degree which emphasized the guidance component of
public school theory and practice although it had insti
tuted a Department of Vocational Education and Vocational
Guidance by 1939 (pp. 222-223, 234).
Stanford University, after whose bifurcated doctoral
program the USC plan had apparently been fashioned, had
not significantly modified its program as late as 1939.
Its counterpart of the "Administration-Supervision-
Counselor" curriculum was intended for "those wishing a
thorough and comprehensive professional understanding of
educational problems met by school administrators, super
visors, guidance workers, and curriculum specialists"
294
(O'Leary, p. 348); hence, a few courses provided advanced
work in guidance. But formal recognition of a guidance
curriculum per se had not yet been instituted.
Thus the School of Education may be said to have led
in the formal recognition of guidance and counseling at
the doctoral level. Considering the institutions which
were eventually to fall in after USC, this must be counted
as no mean achievement.
Credit for it must go to a few pioneers in the School
of Education. First, Dr. McQuarrie introduced Education
233 (Methods of Counseling in the High Schools) into the
graduate curriculum in 1925 (Bulletin, XX, 12 [December
1925], p. 46). However, as Director of Metropolitan Col
lege (£.y.), McQuarrie soon relinquished most of his
teaching responsibilities. When he left USC in 1927 to
become President of San Jose State Teachers College, the
counseling courses and the task of building the guidance
curriculum fell to the hands of Dr. Lefever.
Thereafter, Dr. Lefever was listed as the instructor
for Education 133 (Methods of Counseling in the Elementary
Schools), 138 (Educational Tests and Measurements); at the
graduate level, Education 233, 237 (Advanced Statistical
295
Methods), and 238 (Advanced Educational Tests and Measure
ments) (Builetin, XXII, 12 [December 1927], et seq., pass
im) . Subsequent course changes and curriculum revisions
during the 1930's changed course titles and numbers and
shifted their emphases, but Lefever alone carried the
guidance curriculum through this period.
That McQuarrie's and Lefever's achievement required
administrative sanction and facilitation should not be
overlooked. Dean Rogers; Educational Vice-President
Touton until his untimely death in 1936 (Alumni Review,
XVIII, 1 [September 1936], p. 5); thereafter. Dr. Rauben-
heimer, like Rogers and Touton a Professor of Education,
sometimes Dean of the College of Letters, Arts, and Sci
ences (successor to the College of Liberal Arts) and Ex
ecutive Dean, and during the late 19 30's Director of the
Educational Program of the University, were fully support
ive of Lefever's efforts. This is evident in the record
of consistently favorable actions which greeted the let
ter's new offerings, such as of Education 244: Methods in
Vocational Guidance and Occupational Orientation, and of
curricula in elementary counseling and secondary counsel
ing, all approved in 1929 with Touton, Raubenheimer, et al.
296
in attendance and Rogers presiding (Minutes, I [November
6, 1929], p. 142).
The doctoral program in Education never ceased to be
subjected to close and sometimes nagging scrutiny. Two
examples are of special interest. First, in 1934, the
Dean wondered whether to impose "a regulation that no one
beyond the age of forty, unless in an established posi
tion, be admitted to candidacy" (Minutes, II [June 11,
1934], p. 216). No formal action was taken. Second, on
two occasions during the 1935-36 academic year, "the need
for a course in expository writing for students working on
theses" and dissertations was brought up, once by an un
named faculty member (Minutes, II [June 8, 1935], p. 234)
and once by Dr. Weersing (Minutes, II [January 7, 1936],
p. 238), who by his own admission was a stickler for the
proper and effective use of language (Weersing, 1969).
As with the first example, no action was taken on either
occasion.
Over the years, the Dean's idea of an age limitation
for doctoral candidacy--which may have been offered as a
backhanded gesture of concurrence with liberal arts pro
fessors, who have traditionally and with some practical
297
justification dissuaded older students from pursuing doc
toral studies because of the relative unlikelihood of
their engaging in substantial scholarly production^--the
faculty of the School of Education tacitly rejected and
allowed to die of neglect. The ever-present but lately
quiescent hope for help in improving the writing of grad
uate projects seems only to have retreated into the fac
ulty's collective unconscious.
In 1935, a new course appeared in the Bulletin--
Education 298abcd: Advanced Comprehensive Seminar (XXX,
2 [February 28, 1935], p. 94). The course had evolved
through lengthy faculty deliberations and been approved by
the University Curriculum Committee in 1934 (Minutes, II
[September 17, 1934], p. 223). The faculty concurred that
inasmuch as the course had been planned to span two years
^Renetzky's and Walker's studies complement each other
on this subject. Renetzky found age to be a significant
factor in attrition in the Ph. D. program and recommended
counseling pointed to encouraging earlier beginning for
doctoral study (pp. 186-189). Walker found entering ages
for doctoral aspirants in Education to be 36.5 for men and
40,6 for women, with completion ages 38.7 and 42,9, re
spectively, thus apparently justifying rejection of an
age limitation in Education as inapplicable to the unique
needs and qualifications of its candidates (p. 122).
298
(one year for full-time students) and had other special
features, it should require no examinations. Furthermore,
although designed to run concurrently with doctoral study,
completion of the course "should in no way be a substitute
for the preliminary examination . • . required for the
doctorate" (Minutes, II: 223).
Later in the same academic year, the Dean opened for
consideration the possibility of revising the preliminary
examinations (Minutes, II [March 22, 1935], p. 229). One
of the problems connected with the "prelims" was the lack
of clarity about the difference between admission to the
doctoral program and admission to candidacy (Thompson,
n.d., p. 35). Aside from the aptitude test which was
being used as a sort of screening device (and about which
the faculty seemed never to be comfortable), no prescribed
process of selection and admission had been defined or
employed. It was partially to solve that problem that the
Comprehensive Seminar was created. The seminar was in the
process of being organized and convened in 1936 according
to it's purpose; formal inclusion in the doctoral curric
ulum was announced in the next Bulletin with the statement
that beginning in September 1937, the seminar would be
299
"required of all candidates for the degree of Doctor of
Education and for candidates for the degree of Doctor of
Philosophy whose principal field is education" (XXX, 4
[March 15, 1936], p. 37). Admission to the seminar was to
be on recommendation of a committee and would be tanta
mount to admission to the doctoral program.
As Dr. Thompson summarized the situation and its en
suing development,
[ujp to that time there had been no distinction
between "admission to candidacy" and "admission
to the doctoral program", but gradually the dis
tinction was made and the "Preliminary Examination"
given one year before graduation came to be called
the "Qualifying Examination" and preceded "admis
sion to candidacy". A new "Comprehensive Examin
ation was established to be given two years before
graduation and was to be a major factor in the
action of the Doctoral Committee on "admission to
the doctoral program". There had been much con
fusion owing to the misuse of the term "prelimin
ary", but the dropping of the term entirely
cleared up the matter. That clarification did
not come until some time later, however. . . .
In relation to . . . admission to the doctoral
program, there was a strong feeling on the part
of the faculty that it was unfair to students
to let them proceed when there was little or no
chance of their passing. To forecast competence
thus has been a continuing problem . . . (n.d.,
p. 35).
Adoption of the term "Qualifying Examination" came
early, officially with the Bulletin of 1936-37, dated
300
March 1936 (p. 37). However, as Dr. Thompson’s remarks
suggest, full clarification was not to be achieved until
years later, the cause being that the term "Preliminary
Examinations" reappeared for a time with a different re
ferent, as will be explained below.
During the years when admission to the Advanced Com
prehensive Seminar was in fact equivalent to admission
to the doctoral program (the procedure prevailed through
the 1938-39 academic year), the faculty committee was
charged with screening each potential candidate by
exhaustively considering
the applicant's academic and professional attain
ments and achievements; ability to participate
in and contribute to the program of the seminar
as may be determined by previous records ; esti
mates of the applicant's work in regular course
work and in professional activities; his command
of the fundamental bases of education gained
either through regular course work or through
evidences of individual study on which the work
of the seminar is based ; et cetera. In general,
it presupposes one and one-half to two years of
graduate study including advanced work in hist
ory and philosophy of education, educational psy
chology, educational administration, materials
and procedures in learning activities, and guid
ance (Bulletin, XXXI, 4, p. 37),
The Bulletin of 1940-41 revealed that in the transi
tion of programs, the screening process had been delegated
301
Q
to the newly created Committee on the Doctorate (XXXV,
7 [May 15, 1940], p. 70). This committee, appointed by
the Dean at the faculty meeting of November 30, 1939, had
as its first constituency Professors Thompson, Lefever,
Hull, Melbo, and Weersing, Chairman (Minutes, II: 306),
As the other major revisions of the doctoral program
which became effective with the Bulletins of 1939-40 and
1940-41 took shape, modifications intended gradually to
implement the new patterns were disseminated and tenta
tively applied. (For reasons set forth in Footnote 8,
most of the specifics are not in the collected Minutes.)
One change had to do with the residence requirement.
Besides a given number of units completed, candidates
®The deliberations of the first Doctoral Committee,
from November 1939 on, produced several important reports
which were submitted to the faculty. The respective min
utes of the individual meetings made perfunctory mention
of the reports and directed the reader to "See attached."
Unfortunately, none of the reports remained attached long
enough to become part of the collected Minutes. There
fore, the substance of the reports must be inferred from
their consequences in action and from their effects on
the Bulletin. For example, for the content of an "at
tached report" to which the minutes of March 26, 1940,
refer, one must look to the "forthcoming issue of the
bulletin of the School of Education" in which the faculty
had approved its inclusion (Minutes, II; 316),
302
were uncertain as to what constituted residence. On March
24, 1939, the Dean requested and received faculty approval
for the adoption of a new statement respecting residence;
in part, viz.: "The minimum full-time residence study
acceptable for the Doctor of Education is one academic
year of two consecutive semesters, or continuous study
through one semester and the two terms of the summer ses
sion" (Minutes, II; 290). The quoted sentence and some
minor qualifications thereto were to appear verbatim in
subsequent Bulletins.
Another series of changes affected the course offer
ings themselves. The Advanced Comprehensive Seminar seems
not to have proved entirely successful although aspects of
it needed retention. One can surmise that a tedium set in
among the students who saw the same faces week after week
for years in the same seminar with the same focus and the
same professor; the repetition must have been deadening.
From the professor's standpoint, the seminar must have
been an unwieldy and seemingly interminable burden which
severely circumscribed his scholarly pursuits: how could
he undertake a research project which might require dis
location, or attend scholarly meetings, or take a visit-
303
ing professorship, or go on a leave of absence in the face
of a two-year seminar requiring his weekly attendance?
Yet the seminar did serve several important purposes:
it provided critiques of earlier research, background in
research methodology, and peer reaction and professorial
evaluation of dissertation proposals which were of value
to the candidates. Accordingly, substitute offerings
were designed to satisfy those needs. First was the
"Critique" series : Education 292, -3 -4, and -5ab, each
for 2 units per semester, respectively critiques of "Lit
erature in History and Philosophy of Education"; of "Re
search in Educational Psychology, Measurement, Counseling,
and Guidance"; of "Research in Educational Supervision and
Administration"; and of "Research in Curriculum and In
struction." Next in order for the doctoral candidate was
the "Research Seminar," Education 298ab (3-3), to which
"8 units in critiques of literature and research" were
prerequisite. And last in the sequence was the "Disserta
tion Seminar," Education 299 (0 units), "a continuous, co
operative group," membership in which had admission to
doctoral candidacy as its prerequisite (Bulletin, XXXIV,
6 [May 1, 1939], pp. 114-115, passim).
304
As designed, the critique and research seminars to
gether were equivalent to the Comprehensive Seminar (Bul
letin, XXXV, 7 [May 15, 1940], p. 94) and carried the can
didate forward to the dissertation seminar where, unencum
bered by concerns about units to be earned, he could meet
his peers irregularly and informally according to his own
perception of his need for their opinions, criticism, and
suggestions.
The practice of using a comprehensive examination as
a major screening tool for admission to the doctoral pro
gram, referred to above in a quotation from Dr. Thompson,
was introduced in the Bulletin of 1941-42 (XXXVI, 12
[August 1, 1941], p. 74). None of the deliberations lead
ing to the devising of the "Comprehensives" is recorded
in the Minutes. But scattered bits of information emerge,
such as that at the meeting of October 15, 1941, the Dean
withheld approval of the Doctoral Committee's report of
progress, made by its chairman. Dr. Weersing (II: 325);
and that at the meeting of November 12, 1940, Miss Hum-
richouse noted cryptically under the heading "Admission
of Students to the Doctoral Program," "Special mention was
made of the action regarding the doctoral program, and two
305
questions were raised for later consideration" (II; 327).
The 1941-42 Bulletin, too, is brief, its paragraph
on the Comprehensive Examination stating only that "it
should be taken some time during the second year of post
graduate study" and that
[i]t deals primarily with the fundamentals in
education such as history and philosophy of edu
cation, the learner, and learning process, cri
teria and procedures in evaluating educational
outcomes, and the development and trends in
thought and practice in the various fields of
education (XXXVI, 12 [August 1, 1941], p. 74).
The years of World War Two intervened. No bulletin
was issued for three years thereafter. In August 1944,
the slender (105 page) Bulletin for 1944-46 was published.
A condensation of essentials, it only allowed mention of
the "comprehensive examination" (in lower case) as one of
the steps in admission to candidacy in an equally con
densed version of the doctoral program. Candidacy now
preceded the "Qualifying Examination," which was to be
taken during the latter half or after the final year and
might be "written or oral" (39, 7, pp. 30-42).
The Bulletin of 1946-48, still bearing the austere
buff binder of the war years, outlined three steps in the
doctoral program. The first step was "Admission to the
306
Doctoral Program in Education" (41, 6 [May 1946] p. 41).
One item of information-gathering by the Doctoral Com
mittee in "Step I" consisted of a Comprehensive Examina
tion in the four divisions enumerated below, each divi
sion's objective type sub-test being based on the content
of specified courses.
A. History of Educational Theory and Practice
based on such courses as Ed. 200ab, 201, 202,
and 288A.
B. Educational Psychology, Measurement, and Sta
tistics, based on such courses as Ed. 138,
232, 234ab, and 288a.
C. Educational Administration and Supervision
based on such courses as Ed. 110, 210, 215ab,
228a, 258a, and 288b.
D. Curriculum and Instruction, based on such
courses as Ed. 224, 225, 250, 254, 285, and
288b (p. 42).
"Step II" is the surprise; headed, "Preliminary
Examinations," it reverted to the old terminology; and
its description was of an examination procedure for which
the term "Qualifying Examinations" had begun to be used
(pp. 42-43). The term "Preliminary Examinations" was to
persist into the post-war era, well into the term of the
next Dean, through the jurisdiction of the Bulletins of
1948-50 (43, 7 [August 1948]) and 1950-52 (45, 8 [June 1,
1950[). Finally, the Bulletin of 1952-54, the latest with
307
which the present study is concerned, restored the term
"Qualifying Examinations" to the essay examinations which
preceded admission to candidacy (47, 1 [February 1, 1952],
p. 28).
By this time, the doctoral program had altered sig
nificantly and reflected the new character of the School
of Education, which will be discussed below.
Candidates for the Doctor of Philosophy in Education
have all along followed patterns similar to those seeking
the Doctor of Education degree. But Ph. D. candidates
have remained under the jurisdiction of the Graduate
School, met standard Ph. D. language requirements, taken
fewer units overall, and included in their programs
twelve units in a subordinate field, usually in an aca
demic department within the Graduate School (Bulletin,
May 15, 1940, pp. 74-77 ; see also Walker, pp. 105-114)
^Walker's summary of the differences is apropos. "The
essential differences," she wrote as of 1953, "in terms of
requirements for the Ph. D. (with major in Education) as
compared with the Ed. D. are as follows: (1) Ph. D. de
gree requires sixty units of graduate work, forty of which
are in education as compared with seventy-six for the Ed.
D., fifty-two of which are in education; (2) Ph.D. degree
requires a reading knowledge of French and German, while
the Ed. D. degree requires educational statistics; (3)
308
2. "A broad general education as revealed by the
student's academic history and the Graduate Survey Examin
ation . . . ." (In 1946, the nationally used standardized
test of academic and cultural achievement supplanted the
Professional Aptitude test which had been used with mis
givings for many years [Minutes, III: 442j . Later, the
Graduate Record Examination was adopted.)
3. "A thorough knowledge of the fundamentals of edu
cation, particularly of public education in the United
States, to be judged partly by . . . rating on the Com
prehensive Examination . . .," which was to be of the
objective type in four slightly revised divisions: Hist
ory of Educational Theory and Practice, Educational Psych
ology and Measurement, Educational Organization and Admin
istration, and Curriculum and Instruction in Elementary
Education or in Secondary Education.
4. "Mastery of one of the following fields . . . as
constituting the student's major interest: Administration
the Ph. D. degree requires a background of eighteen upper
division undergraduate academic education courses while
Ed. D. degree requires twelve such units; (4) ten to
eighteen units of graduate work outside the field of Edu
cation is required for the Ph. D. degree" (p. 109).
309
and Supervision, Elementary Education, Guidance, History
and Philosophy of Education, Music Education, Physical
Education and Health, Psychology, Secondary and Higher
Education."
5. "Mastery of a special area within a major field
in which the student proposes to become an expert and
authority. The special area may deal with any type of
educational service at any academic level and is left en
tirely to the student's choice, subject only to approval
of his Committee on Studies. . . . It is expected that
the dissertation will be written in the area of special
ization. "
6. "Mastery of a supplemental field in education
chosen from the fields listed in paragraph 4 or one of the
following: Audio-Visual Education, Business Education,
and Industrial Arts Education."
Residence and units requirements remained unchanged
from those specified earlier herein.
After completion of the steps for admission to the
doctoral program, the applicant was to appear before an
oral committee, which would examine his Graduate Survey
and Comprehensive Examinations scores and his personal
310
and professional qualifications and then render a deci
sion about his admissibility.
Once admitted to the program, the student would com
plete an additional twenty units or more, as prescribed
by his Committee on Studies (as a practical matter, by the
committee chairman) including among the advanced graduate
courses six units in the critique and research seminars,
which were by this time renumbered as the separate sec
tions of 792ab offered by the several departments of the
School of Education; plus the courses in Educational Sta
tistics (Educational Psychology 537) and Advanced Statis
tical Methods (Educational Psychology 637).
The Qualifying Examinations followed. All essay,
they were intended to test the would-be doctoral candid
ate in the "field of his major interest," "special area
within the major field," and "supplementary field in edu
cation." The oral following the "Quals" would then be
before the Committee on Studies and largely focused on
approval of the proposed dissertation topic.
Admission to candidacy, like admission to the pro
gram, was by vote of the entire faculty in a regularly
convened meeting endorsing the recommendations of the
311
student's Committee on Studies, The dissertation was then
to be written during sequential registration in 794ab:
"Dissertation," repeatable for zero units until completion
of the writing and concomitant formalities. Again, after
the final oral, the faculty would vote to recommend grant
ing of the degree by the University (Bulletin, 47, 1
[February 1, 1952], pp. 27-29, passim et passim).
The rate of production of Doctors of Education and
Doctors of Philosophy in Education at the University of
Southern California through 1952-53 is represented in
Table 5. It is an informative tabulation. Although there
were dips during the depression, only once did the total
fall to pre-Ed. D. years; that was in 1945-46, after four
years of World War Two, when few educators had been free
to devote their energies to scholarship which did not con
tribute in some way to the war effort. From 1947-48 on,
the increase was almost continuous through the years of
the present study. (As is common knowledge, growth con
tinued after 1953 and is still going on. The 1966-67
total, for example, was 86 doctorates granted in Education
[Bundy, 1958, p. 25].)
One of the studies of the doctoral program in Educa-
312
Table 5
NUMBER OF Ph.D. AND Ed.D. GRADUATES IN EDUCATION
AT THE UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
1927 THROUGH 1953
Year Ph.D. Ed.D. Total Year Ph.D. Ed.D. Total
1926-27 1 - 1 1941-42 5 6 11
1927-28 3
-
3 1942-43 1 7 8
1928-29 1 - 1 1943-44 2 10 12
1929-30 2 - 2 1944-45 - 4 4
1930-31 5 2 7 1945-46 - 3 3
1931-32 - 5 5 1946-47 2 10 12
1932-33 4 10 14 1947-48 8 18 26
1933-34 2 7 9 1948-49 7 21 28
1934-35 5 5 10 1949-50 6 28 34
1935-36 2 2 4 1950-51 6 24 30
1936-37 3 6 9 1951-52 4 29 33
1937-38 3 5 8 1952-53 12 26 38
1938-39 2 10 12
1939-40 3 8 11 Total 94 256 350
1940-41 5 10 15 Per Cent 26.9 73.1 100.0
(After Bundy, p. 25)
313
tion at the University of Southern California has been
reviewed in the chapter on related literature. However,
two others have been performed by candidates for advanced
degrees in the School of Education, The first, Covert
(1949); the second. Walker (195 3, £.v.); and the third,
Bundy (1968). Of the three. Covert and Walker are mater
ial to the present study because they dealt with the era
which falls within its scope. On the other hand, Bundy's
dissertation is not material, for its research focused on
"students admitted to the doctoral program between July,
1953 and October, 1957." Nevertheless, Bundy's recom
mendations corroborate Walker's findings and suggest the
propriety "of continuous research to determine if the ad
mission requirements are significantly related to success
in the doctoral program."
Covert's and Walker's studies are even more closely
related ; in fact, it might be said that Walker's work was
an elaborate replication of Covert's design. Not unex
pectedly, whenever their research took them into the same
areas of inquiry, their findings were also in basic agree
ment, Hence it is relevant to recount some of the key
points which emerged from both.
314
1. Like the trend nationally, the emphasis of the
USC doctoral program in Education has shifted from sub
ject matter for the better preparation of teachers to
training for specialization in several fields to enable
the graduate to provide leadership in public school
administration, teaching and special services.
2. Approximately 20% repeated the Comprehensive
Examination, but only 10% repeated the Qualifying Exam
ination.
3. Of those who did not complete the program, 65%
were eliminated after the "Comps," 28% after the "Quals,"
and 6% because of non-acceptance of the dissertation.
Those who were unsuccessful ranked the Comprehensive Exam
ination as the number one hurdle but also named the dis
sertation as a major obstacle.
4. The reason ranked first for wanting the doctorate
was "increased personal growth." Others in rank order
were "increased professional knowledge," qualifying for a
future position, and professional recognition. The reason
most often volunteered was "better position."
5. Los Angeles County retained 61% of the doctoral
graduates in Education and California retained 78%.
315
6. The graduates seemed to be quite satisfied with
the doctoral program, with their positions, and with their
selection of Education as a profession.
7. The vast majority of doctoral graduates took
their degrees in some phase of educational administration
and held positions as public school administrators (Covert
and Walker, passim).
This brings to a close the portion of the section on
"Evolving Curricular Patterns" that has dealt with the
growth and development of the doctoral program in Educa
tion at use. The discussion has dwelt both on major and
minor elements with some purpose in mind to which the fol
lowing overview is germane.
In the earliest years of the School of Education,
"teacher training" was central in thought and action.
When the Bachelor of Science in Education was approved,
that for a time became the central concern. Later, when
the new Master of Education degree began to produce large
numbers of successful candidates, it seemed to capture
the faculty*s interest. All these manifestations are
implicit in the collected Minutes. The cold fact is,
moreover, as the Minutes and other documents bear out,
316
that throughout the history of the School of Education
during that period under study, the number of credentials,
of baccalaureates, and of master's degrees have each ex
ceeded the number of doctorates. Credentials have always
been the institution's major product.
Nevertheless, and in the face of it all, since the
inception of the doctoral program, the doctorate has been
the preoccupation and been at the heart of the purpose of
the School of Education. Walker's finding that the empha
sis of the doctoral program has shifted over the years
from subject matter for the better preparation of teachers
to training for specialization to provide leadership in
the public schools (to paraphrase a preceding reference to
her work) tells the story concisely: for teachers, the
terminal degree is superfluous, but for educational
leaders it is a sine qua non.
From the moment the School of Education achieved
"full professional status," which even at the beginning
meant the power to grant its own professional doctorate,
there has existed a permeating and prevailing sense that
the ultimate product of the institution is the Doctor of
Education. As Dr. Thompson put it in reference to the
317
Society of Delta Epsilon, the degree recipients are "the
flower of the School of Education" (1968).
The long section on the doctoral program and its
inclusion of detail, perhaps seeming digressions, were
meant in part to mirror the School of Education's own
"obsession." But a second purpose has been, by illustrat
ing the process of curricular evolution in the case of the
doctoral program, bringing to light some of the doubts,
opposition, tangents, details, and other problems that
arose along the way, to avoid going through such tortuous
paths again in the discussions of new names for School of
Education degrees, revision of credential programs, other
changes in courses and curricula, accreditation, and de
partmentalization, all of which are to claim attention in
this chapter and the next.
Thus, to return to the evolution of curricular pat
terns, focus now shifts from the doctorate to other de
grees offered by the School of Education. As has been
noted in Chapter IV, the Bachelor of Science in Education
was initiated in 1923 and was first mentioned officially
in the Bulletin of that year (XVII, 8 [October 1923], p.
10). In 1924, 4 women graduates received the new degree--
318
but no men. Thereafter, annual Increases were substantial
and men did enter the picture in a minor way; in 1925, 35
women recipients were joined by the first 7 men to earn
the degree; in 1926, from the previous total of 42, the
sum doubled to 84, including 16 men; in 1927, the 75
women graduates outnumbered the 37 men only by two to one;
but 1928 saw a return to a six to one ratio, with 112
women and only 18 men recipients (Gates, p. 276).
As has been observed above, for an important interval
in its history, the School of Education's principal prod
uct was the Bachelor of Science in Education. However,
the master's degrees soon became numerically dominant. A
segment of the statistical picture, derived from the col
lected Minutes, is represented in Table 6.
After the period portrayed in Table 6, the data in
the collected Minutes are alternately sketchy and ponder
ous, but a few statistics are telling. In two separate
instances of faculty endorsements of degree bestowal dur
ing the World War Two years, the total number of bacca
laureates and master's degrees fell short of one hundred
(Minutes, II: 365, 380) graphically reflecting the
general decimation of regular University enrollment.
319
Table 6
SCHOOL OF EDUCATION JUNE GRADUATES : 1930-1935
Year Bachelor's Master's Doctorate
1930 158 118 1
1931 150 169 7
1932 249 215 5
1933 244 246 14
1934 221 221 9
1935 195 241 10
The initial requirements for the Bachelor of Science
in Education presumed that prior to admission to upper
division work in the School of Education the candidate
would have completed something similar to what in modern
times has come to be known as a general education pattern.
The requirements for graduation read in part as follows:
1. The junior college work in the freshman and
sophomore years includes all the requirements
specified in the College of Liberal Arts for
freshman and sophomore students, which are:
a. English 1. One year; six units.
b. Science. One year; eight or ten
units. The science may be Chemistry,
Physics, Botany, or Zoology.
c. Foreign Languages. Two year; sixteen
units. The language may be Latin
Greek, German, French, Spanish, or
320
Italian. If the language offered for
entrance is continued, the require
ment is reduced to six units.
Note: Mature students who have had
two or more years of successful teach
ing or other acceptable experience,
and have attained full junior stand
ing with the exception of the language
requirement may, with the approval of
the faculty of the School of Education,
elect an equal amount of work in a
department not included in Education,
the principal group, or the second
ary group.
d. Psychology. One semester; three units.
e. Physical Education. Two years; two
hours per week; 4 units (Bulletin,
XVIII, 8 [October 1923], p. 9).
The two upper division, or "senior college work in
the School of Education" years, included
a. Education, 24 units.
b. Satisfactory completion of one approved
principal sequence or group.
c. Satisfactory completion of one approved
secondary sequence or group.
d. Elective sufficient to make a total of
sixty units, thirty-six of which must
be upper division or graduate units (p. 9).
The "principal sequence or group" and "secondary
sequence or group" constituted "courses offered in other
schools or colleges to supplement the work in the School
of Education, thus providing the best training possible
for the teaching profession. The groupings are made on
the basis of demands of the educational situation rather
321
than department sequence and unity" (p. 21). Hence, while
in conceptualization the primary and secondary groups were
more flexible than the majors and minors which were later
to supplant them, they were substantively the same. As
listed, these groups or sequences were offered in Biolo-
logical Science, Commerce, English, Fine Arts, French,
Home Economics, Latin, Mathematics, Music, Physical Sci
ences, Physical Education, Spanish, Speech (Oral and Dra
matic Expression), and Social Sciences (pp. 21-25 passim).
By 1929, one addition had been made to lower division
requirements: United States Constitutional History, pre
sumably to meet California credential requisites (Builet-
in, XXIV, 16 [December 1929], p. 27). Years later, on
recommendation of Professor Wagner (Minutes of the Council
on Teacher Education, November 12, 1947, p. 119), the
terms major and minor replaced primary and secondary (and
its successor, subordinate) groups and sequences, respect
ively, with the Bulletin of 1948-1950 (43, 7 [August
1948], p. 25). Otherwise, the Bachelor of Science in
Education curriculum remained substantially the same
through 1953.
A somewhat paradoxical circumstance involved the
322
School of Education's new baccalaureate. For some years
after the authorization of the Bachelor of Science in
Education, the College of Liberal Arts and its successor,
the College of Letters, Arts, and Sciences, offered inter
ested students the option of matriculating under its aegis
for the Bachelor of Arts degree with a major in Education.
It is not difficult to infer causes for this anomaly:
perhaps it was simple inertia--the Department of Education
having for so long been a constituent of the College of
Liberal Arts--perhaps it was an understandable unwilling
ness on the part of the liberal arts college to diminish
its official enrollment figures by the numbers of under
graduates who might elect candidacy for the Bachelor of
Arts in Education. Perhaps there was reluctance to relin
quish authority over the programs and progress of candid
ates for the Bachelor of Arts, a degree whose very title
would place it properly within the province of a liberal
arts rather than of a professional school.
The situation evidently troubled the faculty of the
School o^ Education, but they were powerless to act so
long as the School of Education remained subordinate to
other divisions of the University. In 1928, upon being
323
informed that the Trustees had granted full professional
school status, the faculty quickly appointed a committee
to consider questions emanating from the degree situation
The committee--Drs. Crawford, Hull, and Ford, Chairman--
"was asked to give the practice in the leading private
and state universities" on a number of questions. Two of
the questions referred to the baccalaureate:
"Is the A. B. more distinctly a Letters and Science
degree rather than the B. S.?
"What Bachelor's degree is given in universities
where Education is organized as a professional school?"
(Minutes, I [June 28, 1928], p. 95).
The collected Minutes yield no direct evidence that
the questions were subsequently answered. However, as
Miss Humrichouse recorded no title for the committee, and
as many committee reports to ensuing faculty meetings
went acknowledged without explanation or inclusion in the
Minutes, it is impossible to know whether one or more
reports from Professors Ford, Crawford, and Hull were not
forthcoming. The logical inference is that data were
collected and findings submitted by the committee--if
prior and later performance of faculty committees are any
324
indication.
The alternative of the Bachelor of Arts with major
in Education offered by the College of Letters, Arts, and
Sciences persisted until 1932. In that year, the problem
having been brought to his attention by Dean Rogers (who,
it may be presumed logically, had been armed by the com
mittee with data and recommendations). President von
KleinSmid discontinued the Bachelor of Arts with major in
Education altogether, thereby placing all undergraduate
Education majors squarely within the jurisdiction of the
School of Education (Minutes, I [May 31, 1932], p. 197).
Years later, partly in response to resistance to
what Chen has called "the lock-step system" in college
curriculum (1940, p. 23) and partly in a move to increase
the professional school image of the School of Education,
admission to the School of Education was restricted solely
to upper division and graduate students. That decision,
moreover, signalled recognition of the fact that commit
ment to a teaching career was too much to ask of most
young people just embarking on their college careers; so
the new structure encouraged incoming freshmen to enroll
for their first two years in the College of Letters, Arts,
325
and Sciences (or, not to be exclusionary, in public junior
colleges), to be "admitted to the School of Education only
after . . . completing two full years (60 units) of ac
ceptable college work" (Builetin, 45, 8 [June 1, 1950],
p. 19).
A similar but more involved series of changes affect
ed the master's degree in Education. As noted and quoted
in Chapter V, the Master of Arts in Education had been
announced in December 1924 as a regular degree of the
School of Education. However, graduate students in Educa
tion were admitted to candidacy through the Graduate
School. This practice continued until President von
KleinSmid's memorandum of June 14, 1928, reported the
Trustees' decision and directed that degrees in Education
theretofore controlled by the Graduate School would there
after be administered and controlled by the School of
Education in conformity with its newly granted full pro
fessional status.
Assumed among other powers was authority over two
master's degrees: the Master of Arts in Education for
holders of the Bachelor of Arts with majors in academic
subjects, and the Master of Science for holders of the
326
Bachelor of Science or Bachelor of Science in Education,
Here, then, was another incongruity which wanted
remediation. In the case of the baccalaureate, the Col
lege of Letters, Arts, and Sciences had retained juris
diction over a misnamed degree which would more fittingly
have been the School of Education's responsibility under
a different title; the degree was simply done away with.
In the case of the master's degrees, the School of Educa-
cation became proprietor of a Master of Arts degree,
similarly mislabeled. Creating and confusing the problem
was the fact that the titles of the degrees derived not
from the substance of the candidates' graduate work but
from the degrees they had earned prior to advancement to
graduate standing I At best, the rationale behind the
practice was peculiar; at worst, it engendered a complic
ated and indefensible anomaly.
The committee of Ford, Crawford, and Hull which had
been appointed in June 1928 to consider questions relative
to the degree programs of the School of Education were
charged not only with queries about the baccalaureate and
the doctorate but also with obtaining comparable data for
the master's degrees. Specifically, they were directed
327
to report "[w]hat Master's degree is given in Education
in universities where Education is organized as a pro
fessional school . . . and to give a recommendation for
the School of Education of the University of Southern
California" (Minutes, I: 95).
As with the baccalaureate, evidence is lacking as to
what, if anything, was reported back to the faculty or to
the Dean by the committee. Nevertheless, again as with
the baccalaureate, and at the same time, decisions were
forthcoming from the President four years hence. As set
forth in the Minutes,
In considering problems which involved the ques
tion of . . . a major in Education for the degree
of Master of Arts under the regulations of the
Graduate Council, the President authorized the
following :
b. That the degree of Master of Arts with major
in Education under the administration of the
Graduate Council is not to be offered.
c. The degree of Master of Arts in Education is
to be changed to the degree of Master of Sci
ence in Education, the transition to be made
in such a manner as to keep faith with pub
lished announcements.
In regard to the transition from the degree of
Master of Arts in Education to the Master of
Science in Education, it was moved and carried
that after June, 1933, the only Master's degree
recommended by the faculty of the School of
Education will be the degree of Master of Sci
ence in Education; and that students now in
328
candidacy for the A.M. in Ed. may have until
June, 19 33 to complete all work, but that they
may request a transfer from the A.M. in Ed. to
the M.S. in Ed; and that students who have taken
the thesis seminar but have not yet been admitted
to candidacy may continue work for the degree of
A.M. in Ed., until June, 1933 (I, [May 31, 1932],
p. 197).
Thus did the faculty carry out the President's di
rective by setting a detailed policy for implementation
of the transition.
The first Bulletin to describe the curriculum for the
Master of Science in Education was that of 1933-1934.
Its conditions were simple and straightforward and identi
cal to those which had described the Master of Arts in
Education in prior years.
First, a minimum of twelve units of undergraduate
work in Education was prerequisite for admission to candi
dacy.
Second, the undergraduate and graduate programs in
Education must have included acceptable work in a) History
of Education, b) Educational Psychology, and c) Philosophy
of Education.
Third, the year of graduate professional work must
have included a minimum of 28 units, of which 20 units
329
must have been in residence (£.v.), consisting of course
seminars in Education, 4 units ; additional 200 level
(graduate) courses in Education, 8 units; minor, a minimum
of 4 units; electives, 8 units ; and thesis and thesis sem
inar, 4 units (Bulletin, XXVII [February 1, 1933], p. 35).
As planned by the framers of the overall pattern,
[t]he above distribution permits a student to
elect with reference to his particular interests,
either a general curriculum, specializing in
History of Education, Philosophy of Education,
Educational Psychology, Elementary Education,
Secondary Education, Business Education, Admin
istration, Supervision, or Counseling-Guidance;
or the Master-Teacher curriculum, specializing
in the content, curriculum-making, and methods of
some school subject (pp. 35-36).
The minor referred to was to be in a "content subject
or subjects" related to the elected field. The thesis was
expected to be a substantial piece of research, less am
bitious than a doctoral dissertation but nevertheless of
substantial scope and quality, in the elected field.
The master's program soon ran into unexpected com
plications. A committee of three: Drs. Burton, Rauben-
heimer, and Hull as chairman, was appointed to "consider
the desirability of a two year graduate program in Educa
tion leading to a diploma or a degree." On April 23,
330
1934, the committee set forth the issues as they saw them
as follows:
(1) Is there a need for extending the present
program for the master's degree? (2) May this
need be met by a modification of the present
requirements? (3) What incentive could be off
ered to induce students to attempt the extended
program? A preliminary consideration of these
issues leads the committee to make the follow
ing suggestions:
1. A study should be made of the present
program for the master's degree. It is estim
ated that about one-tenth of the students secure
the master's degree with a program of 28 units
including the thesis, and that the program of
the other nine-tenths range from 30 to 40 units.
In general, the present master's degree program
is not a one year program.
2. An optional master's degree program,
substituting for the thesis graduate work in
research, elementary statistics and measure
ment, with other desirable extensions in the
graduate field to insure a more advanced pro
fessional training, would probably meet the
need for a more varied program extending defin
itely beyond the credential requirements.
3. The standard degrees and credentials
offer the only effective inducements to advanced
work. Diplomas and other similar awards would
probably prove ineffective.
Hull, Burton, and Raubenheimer (Signed)
(Minutes, II: 214).
On June 11, 1934, speaking for the "Committee on Two-
Year Graduates Program in Education," Dr. Hull presented
a follow-up report containing the committee's conclusions,
as follows:
331
1. A survey made of the units completed by
students graduating this year shows that the
Master's program is now a year and one-half in
terms of units, and from two to four years in
elapsed time.
2. We can not consider a two-year program,
without a thesis, for the M.S. in Ed., on ac
count of the graduate program at other institu
tions in California.
3. The present program of graduate work for
the M.S. in Ed. should be strengthened, and no
new program for a two-year course should be
established at the present time (Minutes, II:
215).
The motion to adopt having been made and seconded,
the report was adopted as presented.
It is important to reflect on the implications of the
deliberations documented above. The record shows only
that the master's degree curriculum had become a more pro
tracted affair than had been envisioned; that the faculty
contemplated alteration in fairness to students who had
been led to believe they would conveniently earn the de
gree in one year ; and that the faculty confirmed their
original intent in establishing the degree program by
rejecting any change in it. All that is true enough.
But more was involved. Segments of the faculty
were striving to satisfy in some way the need to give
more than token recognition to working public school
332
educators who took graduate work at the School of Educa
tion but could not essay the master's thesis. That re
quirement was the major impasse to the degree just as the
doctoral dissertation has proved to be for so many
"A.B.D.'s.”10
The reasons were many and complex, but a primary one
seemed to be the candidates' inability or unwillingness or
both to exercise the self-discipline needed to "steal" the
time for the project from their work, home, or family.
Some among the faculty thought a diploma or a cer
tificate upon completion of a two year curriculum would
suffice. Such an idea was first formally proffered on
January 19, 1934, and was received favorably by the fac
ulty at that time (Minutes, II: 212). But the committee
whose charge it was to investigate practices elsewhere
and to make recommendations rejected the idea on the
grounds that only the standard degrees and credentials
offered "effective inducements to advanced work."
Others on the faculty attacked the problem more
^ Renetzky designated those who had not completed the
doctorate as "All But the Dissertation"--"A.B.D."--in his
study of the interfering factors in doctoral failure.
333
frontally. Their hope was that the committee would come
up with a two year master's curriculum without a thesis.
The committee responded by asserting that inasmuch as the
other California institutions had so far retained the
thesis, for the School of Education to discard it at this
juncture without precedent might impair the institution's
scholarly reputation and academic standing.
By and large, however, despite these moves to ease
master's requirements, at least with respect to the
thesis, the sense of the majority of the faculty during
this era was zealously to guard its standards of scholar
ship, Two examples make the case emphatically.
The first instance occurred when Dr. Raubenheimer,
speaking as the School of Education's representative on
the Council on Graduate Studies, revealed that the Council
was weighing the advisability of reducing the amount of
graduate course work for the Master of Arts degree from
24 to 20 units and asked for an expression of opinion from
the faculty of the School of Education. The proposal was
greeted with a resounding "Nay" (Minutes, II [September
16, 1935], p. 235).
The second instance occurred when the Dean became
334
cognizant of the case of a student who had received the
Master of Arts in Education in 1932, only to be confronted
five years later with evidence that she had plagiarized
a large part of her thesis from an unpublished doctoral
dissertation completed at an Eastern institution. Despite
the possibility of scandal that publication might produce,
the Dean did not evade the issue nor obscure it in execut
ive session. On the record, the minutes identifying the
offending student by name, the Dean set forth the facts
at the regular meeting of September 10, 1935, and the
faculty acted; viz.:
It was moved and carried that a recommendation
be made to the President and Board of Trustees
that credit for the thesis and her degree be
cancelled, and that her diploma be returned to
the University (Minutes, II: 255).
So, for the moment, the move to modify the master's
program in Education failed. But the issue was not at
rest. One suggestion made by the Committee on Two-Year
Graduate Program in Education and then summarily rejected
by it as flying in the face of prevailing practices (see
above), continued to hold the faculty's interest. It was
the proposal to create an "optional master's degree pro
gram, substituting for the thesis graduate work in re-
335
search, elementary statistics and measurement, with other
desirable extensions in the graduate field to insure a
more complete advanced professional training." Interest
ingly, even as the committee of which he was a member was
rejecting its own proposal to that effect, Dr. Rauben
heimer was taking a step which would facilitate its im
plementation. For on June 11, 1934, he saw his motion
carried to combine the existing two 2-unit courses in
educational tests and measurements and educational statis
tics into a 3-unit course, "Introduction to Educational
Measurements and Statistics," which would then "be made
optional with the three courses . . . specified for the
Master's degree in Education, and three of the four
courses be required" (Minutes, II: 215).
The records are skimpy on this issue for the years
immediately following the related events of 1934. Never
theless, the minutes do show that a Committee on the
Master of Education had been appointed and empowered to
design a suitable curriculum for the new degree. Dr.
Lefever had been appointed chairman of that committee.
When Dr. Lefever presented the committee's report to
the faculty meeting of December 9, 1938, the tone of the
336
report's phrasing and the specificity of its detail be
spoke a fait accompli, as though the decision had been
made at the highest level of the University and only
awaited a concrete plan in order to be put into effect.
The new Master of Education degree, the report ex
plained, would be earned upon completion of a two year
graduate course of study which had been "designed to pro
vide an opportunity for professional growth to a select
group of experienced educational workers," Factors to be
considered in deciding admission to candidacy would be
(a) Character of professional experience
(b) Scholastic record
(c) Aptitude test results
(d) Personal fitness (Minutes, II: 271).
The program itself was to include a minimum of 24
units of graduate professional work within the following
distribution of courses :
200 courses in Education, a minimum of 10 units
Course seminars in Education 6 units
Intrepretation of Educational
Research 2 units
Planned professional activities 0-6 units
Organized academic sequence 12-18 units
Electives (planned in harmony
with professional goals) 10-22 units
TOTAL 52 units
(Minutes, II: 279).
Within the curriculum for the new degree, allowance
337
would be made for graduate credit for such professional
activities as "field work, surveys, projects, curriculum
reorganization, clinical study, [and] authorship," pro
vided the activity had been approved and credit arranged
for before the activity was begun.
Other requirements were that the School of Education
Aptitude Test would have to be taken before credit would
be recorded in 200-level (graduate) courses; a minimum of
30 units would have to be completed in residence; and a
comprehensive examination would have to be taken and two
years of successful teaching completed before the degree
of Master of Education could be awarded (Minutes, II:
270-271, passim).
The first Bulletin to carry the Master of Education
as an official degree of the School of Education was that
of 1939-1940 (XXXIV, 6 [May 1, 1939], pp. 35-36). Later,
prerequisite work for the degree was made the same as that
for the Master of Science in Education, with courses in
"History of Education, Educational Psychology, Philosophy
of Education, and Educational Measurements and Statistics"
all required somewhere along the line (Minutes, II [Sep
tember 14, 1939], p. 302).
338
It was a heavy program indeed that the committee had
concocted, hardly a dilution of the master's program in
Education which some might have hoped for. Little wonder
then that the numbers of candidates and of successful
graduates were small. In March 1940, a "progress report"
of the Committee on the Master of Education degree ex
pressed doubt that there would be "any students ready for
the degree" at the end of that semester, although two had
qualified the previous January and twenty had applied for
advancement to candidacy (II: 314).
Still, the degree persisted throughout the period of
the present history. Modifications were attempted but
met with stiff resistance, in part from the faculty major
ity, but mainly from Dean Rogers. On one occasion, the
Dean inserted into the minutes his handwritten vetoes of
faculty approvals of two modifications of the Master of
Education curriculum which would have made it accessible
to more candidates, one being reduction of the required
In fact, the faculty challenged the Dean on this
action and forced an explanation from him at the next
meeting, which then secretary Weersing reported as
follows :
"In commenting on the action taken at the last meet-
339
teaching experience from two years to one, and the other,
waiver of the final (comprehensive) examination (Minutes,
III [May 9, 1945], p. 420).
Not until after Dean Rogers' retirement in 1945 were
interested members of the faculty able to define a clearer
distinction between the Master of Science in Education and
the Master of Education. An attempt to designate the M.
S. in Ed. as a degree for school administrators and the
M. Ed. as one for teachers failed for lack of equity in
requiring so much more study by teachers. A more palat
able suggestion placed the M. Ed. a notch above the M. S.
ing on the requirements for the M. Ed. degree, the Dean
announced that changes in degree requirements must be
[the word approved is here lined out in ink and the next
word inserted] recommended by (a) the Dean, (b) the Schol
arship Committee, and (c) [in ink] approved [by] the Pres
ident. The Dean further announced that he can not give
his approval. The Dean next reviewed the history of the
M. Ed. degree in this and other institutions? and indic
ated that further study of the problem is highly desir
able before we commit ourselves to the contemplated ac
tion. The Dean thereupon asked a Committee consisting of
Professors Lefever, Thorpe, Thompson, and Hull to study
the graduate curricula and degrees and report back to the
faculty. In the meantime the previous action stands un
approved until a more acceptable solution can be found.
After some general discussion, it was voted that with the
exceptions mentioned, the minutes be approved" (III [May
23, 1945], p. 422.
340
in Ed. and offered it as a sequential objective for stu
dents who had earned the latter degree or had met all of
its requirements (Minutes, III [December 1945 (?)], p.
433). In explaining the distinctiveness of the newer
degree, the Bulletin described it as especially applic
able to the needs of "[g]raduate students who do not plan
to work toward the doctorate in Education" but "desire
advanced training in content areas of a different kind
and more extensive in scope than is commonly required or
accepted in the one-year program for the Master of Science
in Education" (Bulletin, 41, 6 [May 1946], p. 38).
By the end of 1945, it was clear that the Master of
Education stood somewhere between the Master of Science in
Education and the doctorate in Education and that its re
quirements would not be eased.A last ditch gesture at
dropping the Master of Education altogether was summarily
rejected by the faculty early in 1946 (Minutes, III [April
3, 1946], p. 462). So the movement to create a less de-
1 2
Developments postdating this history have seen the
M. Ed. become the Advanced Master of Education, its re
quirements set at ”24 units of graduate study beyond the
master's" (Bulletin, 62, 2 [August 1, 1966], p. 54).
341
manding master's program devoid of a thesis took a dif
ferent turn; instead of trying to dilute the Master of
Education curriculum, the Committee on the Master's Degree
proposed an optional sequence for the M. S, in Ed. in
which the thesis would be replaced primarily by Education
138: Educational Measurements and Statistics (3 units)
--the Raubenheimer creation documented above--and Educa
tion 236: Techniques and Interpretation of Educational
Research (2 units), thereby increasing the total number
of units for the degree from 28 to 30 (Minutes, III
[December 10, 1945J, p. 435).
The committee's proposal was accepted with one modi
fication. The faculty felt compelled to require a project
in lieu of a thesis, implemented "through a separate
course arrangement, the objective of which [would be] to
initiate and complete the project, recognizing special
fields, the nature and number of the course to be deter
mined ..." (Minutes, III [February 6, 1946], p. 451).
Consequently, Education 260: Master's Project Seminar
(2 units), was established and first appeared in the
Bulletin of 1946-1948 (41, 6 [May 1946], p. 110); and the
thesis-free Master of Science in Education option was
342
launched. It has proved to be the School of Education's
most popular route to the master's degree, as attested to
for one year, at least, by Table 7, adapted from a similar
tabulation appearing in the Minutes of June 5, 1950
(IV: 740).
Table 7
CANDIDATES FOR DEGREES IN EDUCATION: 1948-1949
AND ESTIMATES FOR 1949-1950
Degree 1948-1949 1949-1950 Estimate
B. S. in Ed. 267 398
M. S. in Ed. (Theses) 61 57
M. S, in Ed. (Projects) 381 500
M. Ed. 2 2
Ed. D. 21 28
Ph. D. (in Ed.) 7 6
739 991
While modernization modifications of the master's
degrees occurred over the years, such as in minimizing
undergraduate requirements in Education for master's de
gree applicants, deleting minors, adding a required course
in Organization and Administration of Public Education,
343
and adapting to departmentalization and course-numbering
changes, their character remained fundamentally the same.
More evident than radical changes of format and content
and perhaps more important has been the crystallization
of the School of Education's conception of its several
degree offerings.
In the case of the Master of Science in Education,
numerically, at least, the backbone of the degree programs
if Table 7 is any indication, some well-turned phrases
appear in the Bulletin of 1952-1954, the last to occupy
the present study.
The degree of Master of Science in Education, the
Bulletin stated, was "designated to develop qualities and
techniques requisite to leadership" by means of "mastery
of the fundamentals of education," "understanding and ap
preciation of the procedures and values of educational
research," "proficiency in the solution of educational
problems through research" and knowledge of current pro
gress in the field, the ability to write "according to
professional standards" and to make logically organized
"oral presentations of professional matters," and "com
petency in one or more of the specialized fields in
344
education" (Bulletin, 47, 1 [February 1, 1952], pp. 22-23
passim). The objectives were not always behaviorally
stated, to be sure, but always cogently and purposefully
defined in terms that should have been crystal clear to
interested educators of the day.
Evolving Credential Patterns
To turn to a related subject, when the degree
programs were developing and maturing, the state
credential structure was simultaneously suffering pangs
of growth which affected the School of Education both
indirectly and directly. For their part, the degree
programs were indirectly but significantly affected by
trends in credential requirements and consequent approved
credential curricula because candidates for both degree
and credential slanted their degree concentration so
that one pattern would not conflict with the other.
Contrastingly, as credential curricula were entirely
dependent upon state requirements, they were directly
affected by alterations thereof; the School of Education's
twofold purpose in providing these curricula was to concur
with state requirements while expanding its own creden-
345
tial recommending authority.
Thus, when the School of Education was launched in
1918, the only credentials it had been authorized to
recommend were the Elementary and the High School Teachers
Certificates and the Intermediate School Permits, as ex
plained in Chapter V. Not long after the School of Educa
tion's inception, however, the state began a series of
credential revisions, one group of which became effective
in 1924, shortly after State Superintendent Will Wood
looked to the School of Education for guidance in the re
vamping process, of which (according to Dr. Weersing's
ascription) Dean Rogers was the principal architect.
Consequently, the Bulletin of 1924-1925 described
credential sequences which were based upon the new Calif
ornia patterns and reflected the School of Education's
newly expanded authority to recommend a larger and more
varied number of credentials than it could before. In
cluded were the Elementary Credential (valid for teaching
in the elementary schools); the Junior High School Creden
tial (valid for teaching in junior high schools); the
General Secondary Credential (valid for teaching in the
elementary schools as well as in junior and senior high
346
schools and in Junior colleges); Special Credentials in
Commerce, Home Economics, Music, Physical Education, and
Speech; School Administration Credential (valid for the
supervision of instruction in the special subjects speci
fied in the credential and in any type of school for which
the holder had a regular or special credential) in three
classes: General Supervision, Special Supervision, and
Departmental Supervision; and the Educational Research and
Guidance Credential (valid for "Directors of Bureaus of
Educational Research and School Counsellor"). For each of
the credentials named, a complete program had been planned
and set forth in the Bulletin, which devoted eight pages
of small type to the series of synopses (Bulletin, XIX,
13 [December 1924), pp. 21-28).
Even at this early stage, substantial numbers of ap
plicants sought the credentials offered by the School of
Education, As early as 1924-1925, applicants for every
authorized credential except Research and Guidance num
bered between forty and three hundred; 1925-1926 saw an
across the board increase in applicants in every category
and even the appearance of one applicant for the Research
and Guidance Credential (Minutes, I; 58).
347
The Builetins of the School of Education constitute
a revealing, interesting, and pertinent record of the
labors of the State Department of Education as it strove
to implement the legislature's intent to modernize the
credential structure while attempting to meet the public
schools' burgeoning need for more educational specialists
with differing preparation and expertise. To the present
history, the changes that were made are relevant insofar
as they affected the School of Education--which they did
to a considerable extent.
To cite an example which may be of interest to stud
ents of the history of higher education in California,
at one point the state took to differentiating among the
levels of preparation and qualification within credential
categories by affixing "Class A," "Class B," et seq. to
the respective gradations within each category. One such
gradation was the Class B Secondary Credential, the
state's first venture into a separate credential "limited
to teaching in junior college" for which the "professional
requirements [were] somewhat modified" (Builetin, XXII,
12 [December 1927J, pp. 30-37). The School of Education
accommodated this separation partially by inserting a new
348
requirement into the Class B Secondary Credential se
quence: Organization and Administration of Junior College
Education (2 units).It might be contended supportably
that thereby were sown the seeds of the School of Educa
tion's program in higher education.
Revision of the credential structure and expansion of
the School of Education's scope continued. In 1932, the
^^Neither the Builetins preceding nor following the
one cited above list a course by that title. However, it
is clear that Education 259: Junior College Education,
first taught by Dr. Touton in 1927, met the requirement,
as evidenced by a comment in the Minutes of September 14,
1939, that since Education 259 was not currently being
offered. Education 250a: Secondary Education, "be substi
tuted for this course for the Junior College Credential"
(II: 304).
^^An interesting aside is that Dean Rogers gave much
thought to means by which the School of Education might
best serve the junior college movement and periodically
took steps to involve the institution in that rapidly
growing field. In 19 38, he wrote to President von
KleinSmid as follows:
"For some time I have been giving thought to the need
for an experimental study in Junior College Education.
Such an investigation, if it can be organized and carried
through, would stimulate research by members of our staff,
attract advanced graduate students, and give them a chance
to work on real educational problems; aid junior colleges
in solving some of their problems, and enable us to give
genuine leadership in the field of Junior College Educa
tion in California" (Minutes, II [January 12, 1938],
p. 258).
349
Kindergarten-Primary Credential was added to the author
ized list; the Junior College and the Child Welfare and
Supervision of Attendance Credentials had already become
separate entities, both authorized ; the guidance component
of the Educational Research Credential had been deleted;
and the Home Economics Special Credential had been dropped
from among those for which the School of Education had
authorization (Builetin, February 1, 1932, pp. 54-68
passim).
In 1934, State Superintendent Kersey (£.y.) appointed
a committee to consider revision of the requirements for
the administrative credential. As a member of the commit
tee of distinguished educatiors (it contained Grayson
Kefauver of Stanford among others), Dean Rogers asked his
faculty to "give some thought to the problem and to file
with him any suggestions or recommendations . . . for the
improvement of the training of administrators and super
visors" (Minutes, II [August 24, 1934], p. 222). Out of
the committee's deliberations, in which Dean Rogers played
a vital role if Dr. Weersing's perception is correct, came
a new administrative credential structure which would be
effective on September 15, 1936 (Bulletin, XXXI, 4 [March
350
15, 1936], p. 52).
The new administrative and supervisory service cred
entials were structured in five authorizations, as
follows :
I. Superintendent of Schools. Required 24 units
of graduate work beyond all requirements for the General
Secondary School Credential, the work being mainly in
school administration.
II. Secondary School Executive. 18 units beyond
the General Secondary Credential; authorized service as a
principal responsible directly to a board of education.
III. Secondary School Principal or Supervisor. 12
units beyond the General Secondary; authorized principal-
ship only under a superintendent of schools.
IV. Elementary School Executive. 24 units beyond
the General Elementary Credential; authorization as Number
II, above.
V. Elementary School Principal or Supervisor. 18
units beyond the General Elementary; compare Number III.
At the same time that these newly differentiated
administrative credentials were being created, authorized
for School of Education recommendation, and fitted with
351
required course sequences, the state was approving a re
vised array of credentials and likewise accrediting the
School of Education's recommendations for those in the
following list, some of which were changed in form and not
in title, others being entirely new.
1. Administration; 2. Junior College; 3. General
Secondary [if issued after December 31, 1936,
service would be limited to teaching any or all
subjects in all grades of secondary schools and
in the seventh and eighth grades of elementary
schools]; 4. General Junior High School; 5.
General Elementary; 6. Kindergarten-Primary;
7. Special Secondary in Art, Business Education,
Music, Physical Education, Speech Arts, and Cor
rection of Speech Defects; 8. Child Welfare and
Supervision of Attendance; 9. Continuation Edu
cation; 10. Health Education; 11. Librarianship;
12. Educational Research; 13. School Counseling;
14. School Business Management (Builetin, March
15, 1936, p. 51).
Like the administrative credential grouping, the
School Counseling Credential was subdivided into two com
ponents ; General Counseling, predicated upon the applic
ant's posessing a general teaching credential and com
pleting 12 units beyond that credential including super
vised field experience in counseling ; and Vocational
Counseling, intended for the holder of a special creden
tial in an industrial occupation (the latter credential
was to be dropped with the Bulletin of May 1, 1939),
352
The ensuing years delimiting the present study were
to see changes mainly in credential details: moderniza
tion of titles, especially of administrative credentials;
deletion of obsolete credentials or those whose functions
had been incorporated into others, such as Educational
Research, Continuation Education, School Business Manage
ment, and Health Education; and introduction of the School
Psychologist and School Psychometrist credentials, both of
which would join the General Counseling credential in
being superseded by the General Pupil Personnel Services
Credential in 1956. But, by and large, the basic creden
tials would remain the same until major changes were
legislated during the 1960’s,
The rapid growth and sudden alterations of the cred
ential programs during the late 1920's and mid-1930’s were
partial causes of a problem endemic to institutions of
higher education (Sanford 1962, p. 394) afflicting the
School of Education: proliferation of courses. To intro
duce the subject of proliferation somewhat obliquely and
only tentatively, still in the context of credentials, a
most striking feature of Bulletin entries during the
period of credential growth and modification is the
353
elaboration beyond minimum credential requirements of
patterns "suggested" for "special objectives."
For example, in 1929 the School Administration
Credential program that had been approved required 15
units in Education and was so stated in the Bulletin.
However, nearby in the same Bulletin separate patterns
were outlined for specific administrative specialties,
and the suggested--but not required--pattern for the
candidate who would specialize in elementary school ad
ministration was 22 units (XXIV, 16 [December 1929],
pp. 41, 57), or an excess of 7 units over the required
minimum--not an outlandish suggestion from the standpoint
that the School of Education should urge more than rock
bottom qualification. The rub was that only a little
more than two years later the Builetin of 1932-19 33
listed in the same area of concentration twenty-five
"suggested" courses comprising 53 units (XXVI, 19 [Feb
ruary 1, 1932], p. 50). Similar increases occurred in
other areas of concentration.
These discrete special objectives did more than
contribute to proliferation of courses. For one, the
specializations found their way into the credential
354
structure itself, as evidenced by the five separate ad
ministrative and supervisory credentials first offered in
1936, which are set forth above, thus virtually mandating
the creation of correspondent courses while corroborating
by implication the ascription to Dean Rogers of a vital
role in designing the California credential structure.
For another, so complex did the rules and regulations
pertaining to credentials become, so frequent were their
alterations, and so numerous were student applicants that
Miss Humrichouse could not long continue to augment her
already considerable responsibility as secretary to the
Dean by keeping "generally informed regarding [credential]
requirements and practice" and assisting students "through
the details involved in filing application." Consequent
ly, the new position of Credential Secretary, was created.
Gertrude Jennings accepted the position in 1930.
She was followed by Anna Watt in 1935, Gwendolyn
Miller in 1938, Marva Harrison in 1938, Lucile
Winter in 1942, and Helen Frahm in 1948, the
title of the last being Credential Technician in
1954 and Graduate Technician in 1958 (Thompson,
n.d. , p. 30).
A Major Curricular Reorganization
Trepidation over the incipient problem of proliféra-
355
Lion bespoke the vigilance of the preponderance of the
professors against dilution of courses and curricula which
can be the price of mass appeal and popularity. Prolifer
ation is a constant, insidious problem. Sometimes it
arises from innocuous causes such as the innocent wish to
serve students with unique needs. Or it may embody a
tendency toward redundancy via duplicated courses within
a college or via introduction of courses which fall out
side the scope of the college altogether. More often it
feeds on the self-interest of professors seeking approval
for pet projects without regard for the appropriateness
of such courses in the context of the institution housing
them, and finds acquiescence in their colleagues' reluct
ance to oppose them.
Both direct and inferential evidence exists that
conditions of proliferation and dilution were operating
to the detriment of the academic standards of the School
of Education during the mid-1930*s (Hull, 1968; Weersing,
1969). The Dean and the faculty came to realize that only
a radical reorganization of the curriculum could imperson
ally cull the obsolete, redundant, and pet courses by es
tablishing a curricular framework for the future direction
356
of the School of Education into which the undesirable
courses simply could not be fit. Accordingly, the newly
formed Committee on Curriculum and Schedules, with Dr.
Weersing as its chairman, was charged with the responsi
bility of performing a comprehensive study of the cur
ricula of the School of Education, preparing a report of
its findings, and proposing a plan. The hope was that it
could be implemented in time for inclusion in the 19 39-
1940 Bulletin of the School of Education (Minutes, II
[September 10, 1938], p. 267).
After several delays. Dr. Weersing presented the
committee's report to the faculty on December 19, 1938.
The committee recommended that graduate work in the
School of Education be reorganized on the basis of major
fields, as follows:
1. Elementary education.
2. Secondary, special, and higher education.
3. Educational psychology and counseling.
4. Techniques of measurements and quantitative
research.
5. Educational supervision and administration.
6. History, philosophy, and social aspects of
education.
The committee also proposed the following pattern
of graduate courses in each field:
357
1. Basic work (as far as non-majors go).
2. Major graduate course or courses,
3. Research seminar.
4. Practicum (independent or group work--
usually a field problem, or "professional
activities".
5. Separate courses on special problems or for
special groups, to fit local conditions, in
cluding majors for special purposes.
In explaining the division into major fields and the
suggested pattern in each, the following were offered as
"criteria" for their conceptualization;
1. The whole list of fields and courses should
present an organized picture of the content
of education, should disclose present gaps,
if any, and reveal future possibilities.
2. Each division or sub-division, with all
courses listed under it, should represent
a functional whole.
3. Fields must be coordinated and proper rela
tionships between fields brought out.
After some discussion in which the Dean expressed
the view that unqualified adoption of the proposal as pre
sented would be premature, the faculty voted to "express
approval of the general plan and tentative curriculum"
(Minutes, II [December 19, 1938j, pp. 273-274 passim).
Unaccountably, minutes were not kept at the faculty
meeting of January 11, 1939, which followed. However, at
the meeting of February 3, 1939, it was reported that at
the unrecorded meeting "Dean Rogers stated that he had
358
gone through rather critically the material handed him by
Dr. Weersing, and that certain major conclusions should
be arrived at before taking up the different divisions."
Dean Rogers* reservations focused on three areas :
terminology, course numbering, and organization of the
curricula.
The matter of terminology was apparently solved to
his satisfaction; seminar "should rightly refer only to
genuine research"; practicum "might deal with actual prob
lems of school situations and ordinary compiled papers";
critique "should center around the literature of a field";
methods "as principles and general approach [should be]
distinguished from curriculum and methods [italics sup-
lied] which [sh]ould include the library and lecture study
phase"; and methods and observation should deal with the
"laboratory phase" (Thompson, n.d., p. 48).
The Dean's wishes in the matter of course numbering
also prevailed; viz., adaptation of the new structure to
the existing numbering system without major revision (un
dergraduate and special methods courses numbered in the
100's and graduate courses in the 200*s).
The Dean's expressions on both these matters were
359
viewed by the faculty as merely requiring acceptable
minor adjustments. But Dean Rogers' ideas about curri
culum were more complex.
First, he supported the new foundation program in
Education propounded by Dr. Weersing (Hull, 1968) but not
formally proposed by the committee, consisting of four
3-unit courses as follows: The Teacher and the School,
The Learner, The Learning Process, and The School and
Society.
Second, he urged coordinating curriculum, methods,
observation, and directed teaching courses into a unified
group "designed to effect a functional combination of
theory and practice in the various fields and at the vari
ous levels for which training was offered. Each course
in curriculum and methods was [to bej accompanied by a
laboratory course in directed observation and student
teaching which must be taken simultaneously ..."
(Thompson, n.d., p. 47).
Third, he suggested "larger units in the graduate
program" (Minutes, II: 275).
The outcome of the work of the Curriculum Committee
and of the subsequent deliberations was the reorganization
360
of the School of Education's courses into eight "group
ings," with course number clusters assigned in logical
juxtaposition. The groupings were as follows:
I. Introductory Sequence or Undergraduate Intro
ductory Courses.
Education 101. The Teacher and the School (3).
102. The Learner (3).
103. The Learning Process (3).
104. The School and Society (3).
II. Courses in Nursery School, Kindergarten, and
Elementary Education.
III. Secondary, Special, and Higher Education.
A. Secondary and Higher Education.
B. Part-Time and Adult Education.
C. Business Education.
D. Practical Arts and Vocational Education.
E. Health and Physical Education.
F. Art Education.
G. Music Education.
H. Audial and Visual Aids to Education.
IV. Combined Courses in Curriculum, Methods, Direct
ed Observation, and Student Teaching.
V. Courses in Educational Psychology, Techniques of
Measurement and Research, and Counseling and Guidance.
VI. The Administration and Supervision of Public
Education.
VII. History, Philosophy, and Social Aspects of
361
Education.
VIII. Critique of Research and Advanced Research
Seminar (Minutes, II: 277-289 passim; Bulletin, XXXIV, 6
[May 1, 1939], pp. 74-92 passim).
Dean Rogers, Dr. Hull, Dr. Weersing, Dr. Thompson,
and others in the School of Education, past and present,
would probably be chagrined to learn that the net count of
post-reorganization courses in the Bulletin of 1939-1940
does not differ from that of the pre-reorganization era.
Nevertheless, it is true, and the fact discloses that the
faculty's vigilance against proliferation was preventive
of further increase but was not corrective. What did
transpire was the transformation of the offerings of the
School of Education into a tightly knit network, with
each course part of a larger curricular design.
Courses had been added--yes--but within clearly de
fined boundaries. This is evident microcosmically in the
basic sequence, listed above, which was projected as the
Certain refinements and clarifications were made for
the Bulletin, so that the entries therein differ somewhat
in wording but not in intent from the original outline in
the Minutes on which the section above has been based.
362
foundation for all subsequent degree and credential study
(Hull, 1968), (which with minor adjustments it has been
to the present day) and as epitomizing the quadridirec-
tional thrust of the curricula of the School of Education
(Bulletin, May 1, 1939, p. 75).
Courses had been added also where needs had previ
ously not been met, such as for preparation in methods
and materials in the teaching of reading.
A salient casualty was the well-known "how-to"
course of Professor C. C. Crawford's devising, "Methods
in Directed Study," for which he had written and published
a textbook in a series of editions with the title, Tech
niques of Study (1928 et seq.; an earlier version carried
another title; see bibliography). As stipulated in the
Bulletins, the course concerned "[p]ractices prevailing
in how-to-study courses for college freshman," with
"attention , . . given to the actual procedures of the
student . . ." (XXXIII, 3 [March 1, 1938], p. 94).
The course had value, but it had seemingly been mis
placed. It will be recalled that von KleinSmid and Touton
had contributed Effective Study Procedures in Junior Col
leges and Lower Division Courses (1929) to the Education
363
Series of the University of Southern California Studies
as a work in the same realm as Crawford's, frankly ad
dressed to lower division students. If Professor Craw
ford's course concentrated on students' study procedures
and, as stated in the Bulletin, not on methods of teaching
and administering courses in study techniques, then it
would seem to be more appropriately offered to lower
division students than as a graduate course in the School
of Education. At least, that is the way Dean Rogers and
Dr. Weersing saw it, and they prevailed (Weersing, 1969).
In recounting the circumstances surrounding the
adoption of the new curricula, for which he gave major
credit to Dr. Weersing, Dr. Hull recalled that he had
taken a personal hand at a crucial stage.
Dean Rogers had looked the whole thing over, Dr. Hull
remembered, and then said,
"Well, that might work; I don't know. But we'll
have to renumber our courses and regroup them,
and the bulletin is due on a certain date--we
just can't do it."
I said, "Dean Rogers, can I have that stack
of papers on your desk with all these courses.
I want to look them over tonight."
At 3:30 in the morning Mrs. Hull and I had
finished organizing those things. Now my talent
wasn't such as to originate what Weersing did.
. . . Having had administrative experience, I
364
pulled that together, [brought it to the Dean]
and said,
"Dean Rogers, there it is; and you've got
time to put that in to the University editor
for the bulletin."
He shook his head.
"I don't see why it won't work," I said.
"It's worth a try."
And we got it into the bulletin. This
whole new pattern, jumping from all these scat
tered courses into patterns, into the basic
sequence, the master's sequence, and the doctor's
sequence (Hull, 1968).
Dr. Thompson's judgment was that "[tjhe report of the
Curriculum Committee . . . was of outstanding importance
in the history of the School [of Education]" (n.d., p.
48). That he was right seems to be evident from the fore
going as well as from the story of the development of the
departments, as will be seen later.
A Hard Look at Teacher Training
Trepidation over proliferation of courses was only
one manifestation of a more general attentiveness to the
achievement and maintenance of quality education in the
School of Education. These attitudes were as evident as
anywhere else in various concerns about the preparation
of teachers--about selection of candidates, their general
and special education, and their directed teaching
365
experiences.
During the late 1920's and the 1930's the School of
Education was receptive to transfer students who wished to
attend the University of Southern California for graduate
work in Education. The attitude of the faculty had been
rather liberal toward such persons, the tendency being to
wink at transcripts which revealed undergraduate grades
below the standards required for admission to graduate
status. Information about the prevalence of such prac
tices has a way of becoming widely disseminated; and it
was not long that the situation had become problematical.
At the meeting of January 12, 1938,
[t]he Dean reported that an increasing number of
students [were] com[ing] . . . from U.C.L.A. and
the University of California at Berkeley who do
not have the academic record that permits them
to carry graduate work for the Master's degree
or the General Secondary Credential. The Office
of Admission[s was] also concerned about this.
A motion was made and carried that a small com
mittee be appointed to confer with the Dean and
make a recommendation regarding the admission of
such students to the School of Education. The
Chair appointed the following as members of this
committee: Dr. Lefever, Chairman, Dr. Campbell,
Dr, Adams (Minutes, II: 258).
The appointment of this small committee set into
motion a large examination, not merely of the question of
366
transfer students, but of virtually all the processes
involved in the selection and preparation of teachers.
For the committee was not content to address itself solely
to its official mandate. Instead, it studied the broad
problems of "selection and examination of candidates for
degrees and teaching credentials." Acting expeditiously,
the committee submitted under date of February 15, 19 38, a
thought-provoking summary of three aspects of the problem
it had chosen to examine.
Its first pronouncement was of the "needs in the sit
uation." It saw that needed were more adequate bases for
selection of candidates, earlier determination of quali
fications and "a barrier and basis of selection which
[would] serve as a safeguard against undesirable trans
fers," more extensive guidance for candidates, and more
adequate background and mastery of the content of Educa
tion by teacher candidates (Minutes, II; 260).
Second, the committee summarized the "factors that
should be recognized." Some of these were prescient of
recognitions which schools of education and colleges and
graduate schools are still resisting today. The committee
noted that prospective teachers came from a variety of
367
undergraduate backgrounds, that little correlation had
been found between high scholastic achievement and success
in teaching, and that relatively little was contributed to
teacher education by advanced graduate study in special
ized subjects (p. 260).
Finally, the committee presented its recommendations
to the effect that, in the light of its findings, the
School of Education should authorize construction of
"[ ajppropriate examinations . . . to be administered [for
a small fee] to all candidates for teaching credentials
. . , as early as feasible in their work at this institu
tion" and that a staff member be assigned half-time to
developing the examinations, administering them, super
vising the recording of results, and counseling with the
candidates. Moreover, a personnel committee should be
appointed by the Dean to scrutinize doubtful candidates
and recommend appropriate action in their cases. And all
candidates, at the earliest possible moment, should be
interviewed and their records checked, with those candid
ates offering less than a 1.5 grade point average (on a
three point scale) being considered doubtful (p. 61).
With minor changes, the committee's report was
368
accepted, and the Personnel Committee was subsequently
established (Minutes, II [February 15, 1938], p. 262).
One is inclined to wonder about how it was that the
committee named above, whose report has just been summar
ized, came to exceed its mandate with impunity and to see
its recommendations receive favorable action. Perhaps it
was Dr. Lefever's personality and prestige as a scholar
which carried the day. Perhaps it was the faculty's in
ability to be ungentlemanly to Dr. Adams which fettered
its censure. Perhaps it was that the intention to exceed
the formal mandate had been implied and tacitly sanc
tioned. Or perhaps it was a toleration of the third mem
ber of the committee, Professor William Giles Campbell,
whose seriousness and vigor in the cause of excellence
in the instructional program for teaching credential can
didates was untiring during the era of his presence at
the University.
Dr. Campbell had succeeded Dr. Thompson as director
of secondary teacher education in 1936 (Thompson, n.d.,
p. 49). From the time he assumed that responsibility,
but more visibly from the time he participated in the
drafting of the committee report described above, Dr.
369
Campbell peppered the Dean and the faculty with criticism,
experiments, and proposals designed to improve teacher
education at the University of Southern California. As
early as 1936, he had served on a committee with Drs.
Lefever and Crawford to consider personnel problems re
lated to student teaching; the committee had recommended
the discontinuance of the old educational aptitude test,
the creation of a standing personnel committee, and a
classification system for applicants for student teaching
in three groups; "qualified, doubtful, and impossible"
(Minutes, II [May 26, 1936], p. 248.
At a faculty meeting in May 1938, Dr. Campbell criti
cized the School of Education's program of student teach
ing in the secondary schools for its lack of continuity
in supervision, lack of subject matter specialists among
University supervisors, infrequency of supervisory visita
tions, lack of standardization of demands upon student
teachers, as well as for other shortcomings (Minutes, II
[May 27, 1938], p. 266). And he made several suggestions
for improvement of conditions, including "a course in
methods of teaching the particular subject in which the
teacher is doing supervisory work, in the summer session
370
or on the campus" (p. 266),
In 1939, Dr. Campbell addressed a memorandum to Dean
Rogers in which he enumerated "weaknesses in the prepara
tion of . . . prospective teachers," especially in their
"knowledge of the social resources of Southern California,
in the relation of their teaching to life activities, in
the reading of current books, and in attendance at educa
tional professional meetings." Experimentally,
Dr. Campbell organized visits, trips, and excur
sions to a number of places, such, for example,
as the Firestone Tire Company, the Federal
Theatre Project, Huntington Beach Schools, Nor
walk Hospital for the Insane, Pacific Colony
for subnormals, the County Farm, and others,
attendance or reports from professional confer
ences, such, for example, as the Progressive
Education Association, American Association of
School Superintendents, etc., and discussion of
current books (Thompson, n.d., p. 49).
He recommended that a course or courses be set up in which
the beneficial activities that he had introduced could be
included regularly, and suggested Education 101 and 104 as
the principal receptacles for his enrichment program
(Minutes, II: 294-295).
Inasmuch as Dr. Campbell remained Director of Teacher
Training through 1945, he wielded considerable influence
in shaping the program he headed. But his was not the
371
only restiveness over standards in teacher education. In
1942, on the occasion of an appearance before the faculty
by Robert M, Dulin, President of the State Board of Educa
tion, Dean Rogers "presented a brief history and a resume
of the policy and practice regarding credentials." He
pointed out that the State Department of Education was
applying dual standards in qualifying applicants for
teaching credentials:
a. Professional standards developed by the
Commission on Credentials in conference with
representatives of teacher training institutions;
and
b. The granting of credentials on direct
application to the Commission on Credentials on
the basis of the minimum requirements as legally
and technically interpreted.
For its part, explained the Dean, the School of Edu
cation's credential standards were based upon the action
of its faculty as approved by the "All-University commit
tees and the President," liberally interpreted in prac
tice. Thus, use students qualified for credentials in one
of three different ways:
a. The regular University recommendation
. . . . based on the satisfactory completion of
a professional curriculum organized in keeping
with the standards of accreditation promoted by
the State Department of Education. . . .
b. The "Informal" recommendation. . . .
372
Occasionally, students . . . [do] not meet in
full the program for the regular University
recommendation, such as full admission or
amount of residence work, or recency of teach
ing experience, et cetera, but who are believed
to be able to do effective work in a classroom,
and meet the minimum standards of the state,
are given a note of endorsement or "informal"
recommendation to accompany their applications
to the Commission on Credentials. This endorse
ment expedites consideration.
c. Direct application to the Commission on
Credentials. Students who have had work at
miscellaneous institutions and are qualifying
on the minimum state requirements. These stud
ents are usually unable to qualify for (a) or
(b) due to deficiencies on one or more of the
following: general education, teaching fields,
sufficiently strong recommendation to be exempt
from directed teaching [this applicable to stu
dents offering experience in lieu of directed
teaching], personality.
Mr. Dulin "frankly acknowledged" the dual standards
described by Dean Rogers but explained that efforts were
being made to secure the necessary legislation whereby the
Commission on Credentials would "operate on the same basis
as the professional program maintained by accredited
institutions."
It appears from the above that both out of necessity
and preference, the faculty had devised teaching creden
tial curricula which exceeded minimum requirements (a
practice which, according to Mr. Dulin's remarks, was
373
prevalent among accredited institutions), that it was "the
policy of the Dean to support the recommendations of the
various faculty members or committees responsible for
carrying out the policy of the School of Education," and
that the recommendations had therefore been submitted for
the approval of the Commission on Credentials.
The President Intervenes
Both interesting and material to the present study
is that President von KleinSmid seems to have been taken
aback by what he read in the Minutes of October 7, 1942
(II; 357-358), for it occasioned one of his rarely used
inked-in vetoes. Addressing himself to the comment which
conveyed that University standards exceeded those of the
state, he wrote firmly in the margin;
"Minimum requirements of State to apply."
To the description quoted above of the three ways of
qualifying, he reacted with the following handwritten
insertion:
This seems to be somewhat involved. Students
are entitled to recommendation who are regularly
admitted in good standing, do credential work
and meet the minimum requirements of the State.
It is clear from his reaction that the President
374
opposed on principle what he believed to be the School of
Education's practice of unilaterally setting credential
requirements for USC students which exceeded those of the
state, nor did he take kindly to arbitrary barriers which
denied USC students University endorsement.^^
Without directly confronting the issue which had
aroused his interest, he soon thereafter recalled to Dean
Rogers' attention the existence of a committee he had
created more than a year before "to confer with the Dean
of the School of Education on interrelations of the
teacher education program." The President's appointees
had been Dr. Raubenheimer, Dr. John D. Cooke, and Profes-
^^Some nine years earlier an issue had arisen which
similarly elicited his intervention. Education 190:
Observation and Directed Teaching in Secondary Schools,
had been added to the offerings of the School of Educa
tion. Dr. von KleinSmid resisted what he interpreted as
proliferation with the marginal reminder that "[t]he
policy now requires that no additional units of instruc
tion be added without a corresponding reduction by the
elimination of a course or courses" (Minutes, II [November
17, 1933], p. 210).
However, Dean Rogers explained to the President in a
promptly written memorandum that he had misread the fac
ulty's intent; the course only modified the directed
teaching requirement for experienced teachers lacking re
cency and so was a substitute and not an addition (Min
utes , II: 211). The President acquisced.
375
sor Willett. It was evident that the President was bring
ing pressure to bear on a reluctant Dean Rogers to commit
himself to greater cooperation with the committee.
For indications are that Dean Rogers had theretofore
studiously avoided meeting with them. If he had had any
foreboding of future events, Dean Rogers should have
deemed the very existence of the committee an incursion
into his authority as dean and a threat to the autonomy
of the School of Education. The trio appointed by Presi
dent von KleinSmid was too formidable to be taken lightly.
(For one. Dr. Raubenheimer was then Director of the Edu
cational Program of the University as well as Dean of the
College of Letters, Arts, and Sciences.) Now that his
hand was being forced by the President, Dean Rogers was
unwilling to face the three men alone. On receipt of the
President's reminder, the Dean turned to his faculty and
described the problem. He was bolstered by their decision
to appoint a committee of three--Drs. Campbell, Hull, and
Lefever--to "sit with him" in conferences with the Presi
dent's appointees (Minutes, II [November 4, 1942],
p. 359).
Circumstantial evidence leads to the inference that
376
the deliberations of the President's appointees with the
Dean and his cohorts were disconcerting to the faculty of
the School of Education. Raubenheimer, Cooke, and Willett
seem to have been untiring in setting "numerous confer
ences" at which "a wide range of issues was discussed."
On December 16, 1942 (Minutes, II: 364), and on May 5,
1943 (Minutes, II: 369), Dr. Hull made what from the sec
retary's records seem to have been disheartening reports
on the committee's actions, and the faculty responded in
passive resignation.
A few months later, on August 13, 1943, Dr. von
KleinSmid's appointees addressed a lengthy document to
him. They first recapitulated the background of the com
mittee's existence:
On April 14, 1941 and on October 16, 1942 you
asked the undersigned to constitute themselves
into a committee to study certain problems con
nected with the School of Education.
Then they set forth what they had taken to be their
mandate; viz., "to arrive at sound conclusions and recom
mendations" on the "major problems" articulated by the
President :
(a) qualifications for secondary credentials.
377
and the setup of major and minor subjects in
which sufficient subject-content work was to
be furnished for the prospective teacher, (b)
problem of elementary and secondary creden
tials, (c) degree requirements and their rela
tion to requirements in other divisions, (d)
issues that have arisen as the result of the
war crisis.
Then they stated that, based on "numerous meetings"
with the Dean and other representatives of the School of
Education, on a conference with Dr. Aubrey A. Douglass,
Assistant Superintendent of Public Instruction, and on
reports from the School of Education on its "fundamental
thinking" on the subject of teacher education, they had
developed the report they were then submitting embodying
discussions under the following three headings:
I. Certification of Teachers for the State of
California
II. Recommended Council on Teacher Education
III. Problems arising from War Conditions.
As to certification practices, subject of the first
heading, the committee found that the School of Education
had lived up to its contract of accreditation and that
"for the University to recommend for certification on
bases that approximate the so-called minimum standards of
the State Board" was impossible, thereby vindicating the
approved programs in principle. However, the committee
378
was not convinced that the programs were either ideal or
inviolable and recommended "justifiable modification"
thereof.
Moreover, the committee recommended that the two
methods of obtaining credentials--by direct application
to the Commission on Credentials or through University
recommendation--be explained in the Bulletin of the School
of Education, with the fact pointed out that approved pro
grams were required by the State Board to exceed the mini
mum standards.
As to the effects of war conditions, the committee
summarized six problems and made relatively non-controver
sial recommendations about them. Interestingly, several--
those having to do with development of "audio-visual edu
cation" as part of the regular program, establishment of
"demonstration and practice teaching facilities in remed
ial reading and clinical work," creation of off-campus
graduate centers in outlying geographic areas (see below,
Chapter VII), and qualification of teachers in rehabili
tative education--have had consequences in the more recent
history of the School of Education.
379
The Council on Teacher Education
The most crucial issue to which the committee ad
dressed itself was the recommendation of the creation of
a Council on Teacher Education to have
general jurisdiction in all matters pertaining
to teacher education and certification in the
University, including (1) curriculum, course,
and scholarship requirements for the University
recommendation for all credentials; (2) personal
qualifications of candidates for the University
recommendation; and (3) all matters pertaining
to directed teaching. The Council also [would
have] advisory relation to the University Place
ment Bureau.
The Council on Teacher Education was also to be pro
vided with an Advisory Council "composed of approximately
fifteen persons, not officially connected with the Uni
versity . . . prominent and active in various phases of
education . . . ."
The establishment of a Council on Teacher Education
would predictably involve radical shifts in responsibility
so that, in effect, the School of Education would undergo
reorganization. One anticipated consequence was that the
faculty would, "as a faculty, be concerned primarily with
instruction and research."
Furthermore, the committee observed, "It seems to be
380
the consensus of opinion that the faculty should be organ
ized by departments, each with its chairman or head and
staff of instructors." This pregnant suggestion was "re
ferred to the Dean of the School of Education and his
faculty."
As to the proposed Council on Teacher Education, it
was to be composed of fifteen members, as follows:
1. Dean of the School of Education, ex officio--
Presiding Officer of the Council.
2. Director of Teacher Training, appointed by
the President after conference with the
Dean--Executive Officer of the Council.
3. Six members of the Faculty of the School of
Education, appointed by the President after
conference with the Dean.
4. Seven members of the faculty at large, who
are in departments offering courses in sub
ject content fields, appointed by the
President.
(All quotations and references in the section above are
from the document filed under date noted, in chronological
order in the collected Minutes of the Council on Teacher
Education, pp. 1-6 passim).
An intriguing part of the committee's proposal was a
projected table of organization for the School of Educa
tion which showed the Council on Teacher Education respon
sible directly to the University committees and to the
381
University President, with the Dean simultaneously serving
in an advisory capacity to the Council and as its presid
ing officer, reporting directly to University committees
and to the President, and functioning as the University's
liaison to the State Board and other outside agencies.
School of Education committees were shown reporting only
to the Council. But the faculty of the School of Educa
tion, projected as being made up collectively of the sev
eral proposed departments, the Council on Teacher Educa
tion, and other persons appointed to the faculty, was
shown unattached as to either authority or lines of
responsibility.
From May 5 to December 8, 1943, meetings of the
faculty of the School of Education seem not to have been
called, or so it would seem from the fact that the pagi
nation of the collected Minutes is unbroken from the first
date to the second, indicating no missing pages. This may
be accounted for by the fact that during the interval in
question, the major recommendation of the committee of
Raubenheimer, Cooke, and Willett--to create a Council on
Teacher Education--was put into effect.
The Council's first meeting was called to order on
382
September 23, 1943. President von KleinSmid, present for
the inaugural meeting, in brief remarks charged the Coun
cil with insuring that teacher education graduates of the
University of Southern California "may represent the high
est standards of American education, not only at home, but
in any part of the world to which they may be summoned"
(Minutes of the Council on Teacher Education, p. 7).
Thenceforth, and for years to come, the Council on
Teacher Education exercised its authority and influence
over the policies and programs of the School of Education.
Some of the Council's salient actions are briefly summar
ized below.
The Council immediately defined the functions of the
various committees of the School of Education and con
firmed the lines of authority which had only been sugges
tions in the table of organization described earlier.
Most important to the work of the Council was the Commit
tee on Personnel and Credentials. As "agent of the Coun
cil," that committee became the recommending body and the
Council the decision-making body in the screening of
teacher education candidates, whose names and qualifica
tions were submitted by the committee to the Council for
383
action in the manner that had previously been the province
of the faculty of the School of Education. Moreover, in
executing its duties, the Committee on Personnel and
Credentials followed the Council's directive to work to
ward improving the caliber of teacher education candidates
(Minutes, Council on Teacher Education, October 11, 1943,
pp. 15-17; November 10, 1943, p. 22; et passim).
Another Council action was to authorize publication
in pamphlet form of one thousand copies of the section in
the School of Education Bulletin which covered the teacher
education program. Entitled Teacher Education Program
Under Direction of the Council on Teacher Education
(1944), the pamphlet received general distribution.
In addition, as the Council had been born during
World War Two, it soon began to wrestle with problems
engendered by war and post-war conditions, among them the
teacher shortage, teacher recruitment, and emergency
credentials and maintenance of standards in the face of
massive enrollments.^^
^^At one stage, when 625 were enrolled in directed
teaching. Dr. Cannon, speaking as Director of Student
Teaching, urged limitation to 500 candidates (Minutes,
Council on Teacher Education, October 10, 1949, p. 160),
384
The Council appointed sub-committees to devise pro
grams for majors in the subject-content fields (September
27, 1943, p. 8) and later prevailed upon the College of
Letters, Arts, and Sciences to eliminate listing "teaching
majors" in its Bulletins (November 14, 1949, p. 162).
The Council authorized a document to be known as the
"University Recommendation" to be awarded to all students
who qualified for a University-endorsed credential (Oct
ober 4, 1943, p. 13; December 6, 1943, p. 28).
It studied and authorized training of candidates for
special credentials in correction of speech defects, (pp.
78-79) and in the teaching of lip-reading to hard of hear
ing adults and children (pp. 80-82).
It dropped as obsolete the Junior High School Creden
tial from the list of those for which the University
issued recommendations (December 12, 1949, p. 105),
Through Dr. Cannon it confronted the sticky problem
of payment to "critic teachers" (May 8, 1950, p. 178).^®
1 A
The School of Education's practice had long been to
pay a small "honorarium" (Dr. Hull's word) to the critic
teacher: twenty dollars for supervising a student teacher
for one semester. The School of Education found the ar
rangement eminently satisfactory, and, perhaps surpris-
385
And, last of this necessarily select list culled from
among the many actions of the Council on Teacher Educa
tion, the Council moved to enlist the cooperation of each
ingly, total payments proved to be a sizable budget item.
The sum for 1949-1950 was projected at $28,000 (May 20,
1949, p. 153). For 1950-1951, $19,500 had been allocated;
but on Dr. Cannon's recommendation, the Council voted to
request an additional $13,500 (May 22, 1950, pp. 181-182).
Complications arose because the state had refused "to
approve budgetary items for the payment of critic teachers
[which] had resulted in various artifices by the state
colleges for getting around the ruling." By 1950, "state
alertness had obviated such practices." A conference at
Asilomar that year was "charged with the duty of arriving
at a formula which would permit payment . . . and at the
same time conform to the state ruling." Dr. Cannon, prin
cipal USC representative at the Asilomar Conference, was
"keenly aware of the necessity of preventing the adoption
of a blanket-formula which would do harm to our own method
of payment to critic teachers .... The danger at Asil
omar, in the words of Dr. Cannon, was that 'inability to
pay the fee might determine the specific essentials in the
teacher training program.' After considerable attention
to the problem, the committee, with Dr. Cannon playing a
key role, hit upon a formula which was satisfactory. The
decision reached was to recommend that all training
schools should make arrangements with the District, not
the teacher, thus avoiding direct payment of teachers plus
pay by the school--the crux of the state's objection.
This formula will mean that funds in state college budgets
will be used for reimbursement of Districts and that Dist
ricts may use such funds as they see fit--thus making pay
ment of Critic Teachers permissible in a circuitous man
ner. The formula will have no effect upon the Southern
California procedure . . . ."
The method was adopted as described and remains es
sentially the same to the present day.
386
department providing subject-content course work to teach
ing credential candidates to schedule "400" and "500"
level courses "at hours when the student teachers can
take them" (March 12, 1951, p. 187).^^
The Advisory Council to the Council on Teacher Educa
tion had a briefer history. It first met on April 13,
1944. Its initial constituency was most imposing, con
sisting of Dr. Walter F. Dexter, State Superintendent of
Public Instruction; Dr. Walter R. Hepner, President of
^^Effective September 1, 1949, the University adopted
the course numbering system which continues in effect to
the present day. "The first digit of the course number
indicates the college year level of the course: 100 first
year, 200 second year, 300 third and fourth years but not
graduate credit, 400 third and fourth years and graduate
credit, 500 first graduate year, 600 second graduate year,
700 third graduate year" (Bulletin, 45, 8 [June 1, 1950],
p. 49). Under date of March 30, 1949, the School of Edu
cation submitted its new course numbers, "revised in ac
cord with University classification." Aside from a few
courses in the 300's, including C301 in the basic se
quence and a few others in early childhood and elementary
education, all courses were at the 400 level or higher
(Minutes, IV: 696-697). At first, letter prefixes in
alphabetical order designated the department offering the
course; these were changed before the first Bulletin under
the new system so that the more familiar departmental
symbols came to be employed (e.g., "EdAd" for Administra
tion and Supervision, "EdTT" for Teacher Training). By
the time the Bulletin of 1950-1952 was written, the basic
sequence had been absorbed by the Teacher Training Depart
ment (45, 8 [June 1, 1950], pp. 50-71).
387
San Diego State College; Dr. C. C. Trillingham, Superin
tendent of Los Angeles County Schools; Mr. Arthur F.
Corey, Executive Secretary of the Southern Section of the
California Teachers Association; the superintendents of
half a dozen city school districts; and a deputy superin
tendent and several assistant superintendents of the Los
Angeles City Schools (April 5, 1944, p. 39).
These impressive individuals, or their representat
ives, met in an all-day session in the Advisory Council's
first convocation. Fortunately for the would-be historian
and student of California education, the transcript of
their deliberations has been preserved in the collected
Minutes of the Council on Teacher Education (pp. 41-49).
The transcript makes fascinating reading, for it brings to
life the issues in education which occupied the minds and
efforts of the leading California educators of the day.
The discussants were wide-ranging in their comments,
taking the opportunity to use each other as sounding
boards for their own preoccupations. Ultimately, however,
the focus of their conversations narrowed to emergency
needs for teachers, numbers and costs of teachers and
their training, and standards of qualification. With a
388
few exceptions that resulted when Dean Rogers addressed
questions to the assemblage on the immediate situation of
USC teacher education, the considerations were too gen
erally applicable to qualify as the special province of
an Advisory Council to the Council on Teacher Education
of the School of Education of the University of Southern
California. The conference was a forum--an enlightening
and useful one, to be sure--but a forum nevertheless.
The Advisory Council met again on January 18, 1945.
Those in attendance were similarly impressive, with many
of the original members present once more. This time. Dean
Rogers had prepared an agenda for the meeting; he posed
several searching questions relative to post-war condi
tions in teacher education and in the public schools. An
issue which concerned him--to cite one example only--was
the question of how compulsory military training for young
men in the postwar era would affect the University's pro
gram of teacher education (January 9, 1945, p. 70).
This time the group was more work-oriented. But
again the presence of the educational leaders of the state
seemed superfluous. Issues being confronted were clearly
within the scope of the Council on Teacher Education
389
itself, and the major contributions were being made by
faculty members of the School of Education, particularly
Professors Hull, Lefever, and Melbo.
More fruitful than its advisory role to the Council
on Teacher Education were its contributions to the solu
tion of statewide problems in teacher education. For
example, as a result of the Advisory Council meeting of
January 1945, County Superintendent Trillingham
invited the County Superintendents of the Coun
ties of the state south of Santa Barbara County,
and representatives of the teacher education in
stitutions of the state to prepare materials and
plan a cooperative program of recruitment of
teachers (Minutes, Council on Teacher Education,
March 5, 1945, p. 75).
This group then produced a document containing explicit
proposals for means to alleviate the crucial teacher
shortages facing the state in the years to follow.
On February 13, 1946, Professor Hull, by this time
Chairman of the Council on Teacher Education, advised the
members that the time had come for another meeting of the
Advisory Council. Someone "suggested that more super
visors and others who work directly with classroom teach
ers, as well as administrators be included" (p. 105), But
no date was set, and no record of an ensuing meeting of
390
the Advisory Council appears.
Finally, on January 19, 1948, Professor Willett,
dependable member of the Council on Teacher Education,
"raised the question of the Advisory Council."
In his opinion this feature of the original
"charter" of the Council on Teacher Education
had not proved very successful, and he suggested
that it might be revised to provide for a few
representatives of the teaching and administra
tive profession to be called into consultation
from time to time on specific problems (p. 124).
From that time on, the Minutes of the Council on Teacher
Education are dotted with references to the presence of
school principals and other visitors. The Advisory
Council was not mentioned again.
As to the Council on Teacher Education itself, its
change was more in the nature of a process of maturation.
From its beginning and for the balance of Dean Rogers*
tenure, the Council did indeed encroach upon the autonomy
of the School of Education. Professors from other divi
sions of the University who were little involved in teach
er education did for a time exert appreciable influence in
the Council. But gradually the inevitable came to pass.
It should be remembered that as ex officio presiding
officer of the Council, the Dean of the School of Educa
391
tion called its meetings, selected meeting sites, and had
the power to set agendas. It should also be remembered
that, including the Dean and the Director of Teacher
Training, a majority of the Council's membership came from
the faculty of the School of Education. It gradually
became apparent that most of the Council's action was
originating with the professors of the School of Educa
tion who daily faced the problems of the institution and
were thus by circumstance as well as by profession more
knowledgeable and committed to the areas of the Council's
responsibility.
Throughout the collected Minutes of the Council, the
names that appear repeatedly as opening discussions, mak
ing committee reports, offering and seconding motions, and
initiating actions are those of the professors of the
School of Education: Hull, Weersing, LaPorte (of Physical
Education, long a stalwart of the faculty and consistently
involved in its decision-making processes), Thompson,
Lefever, Campbell, Perry (successor to Campbell as Direct
or of Teacher Education for a brief interval), Melbo,
Cannon (introduced as the new Director of Teacher Educa
tion in May of 1948 [p. 129]), Wagner (Assistant Dean
392
during a part of Dean Hull's administration), and, some
what later, Naslund and Olson (passim).
Little by little professors whose primary interests
lay outside the School of Education and the problems of
teacher education drifted away. In 1946, Dean Hull com
plained of the difficulty of obtaining attendance of the
members from the content fields (Minutes, 111: 479).
Only a few of the "outsiders" continued faithfully to at
tend. Principal among them were Professor Lionel Steven
son, distinguished Victorian scholar of the English De
partment, long the Council's secretary; Professor Milton
Dickens of the Speech Department, for a time the Council's
secretary, whose purpose in Council membership seems to
have been to push for speech training for prospective
teachers (a worthy purpose--if one may editorialize for a
moment) and for a special category for the General Second
ary Credential in "Speech-Radio-Drama" (Minutes, Council
on Teacher Education, pp. 133-136); and Professor Willett,
factotum of the University, who began his extended USC
career in affiliation with the School of Education and
remained probably the best informed member outside the
School of Education on its operations and affairs.
393
Dr. Cannon recalled the process of change undergone
by the Council on Teacher Education as follows:
From 1948 on, the Council met monthly, discussing
agenda prepared by the Director of Teacher Educa
tion. . . . I believe . . . those academicians
who remained active developed more and more re
spect for the academic integrity of the School
of Education so that the Council's original in
tent of controlling the School of Education gave
way to a spirit of support and respect unusual in
major universities. . . . [T]he suspicion which
. . . characterized the Council's origin and early
behavior gave way to enough mutual respect so the
notion evolved that the education of teachers is
a university enterprise, but that an effective
program requires considerable leadership and auto
nomy in the School of Education (Cannon, 1970).
At the end of the 1950-1951 academic year, the col
lected Minutes of the Council on Teacher Education termin
ate for reasons which may be related to its evolving role.
Thus, to all intents and purposes, the Council itself be
came an advisory council to the School of Education--an
instrument rather than a master--as authority was restored
to the faculty,
7 0
^^Nevertheless, the Bulletins which document the bal
ance of this history continued to describe the Council on
Teacher Education as a "coordinating agency for all de
partments . . . interested in the education of teachers,"
ascribing to it "jurisdiction over all matters pertaining
394
The last topics to be dealt with in the present chap
ter, which serve as a natural link to the next chapter,
concern the School of Education's special activities dur
ing World War Two and its anticipation of the postwar
period. It has already been seen that the Council on
Teacher Education, having had its beginning in 1943, in
evitably faced the multiple problems springing from war
time and postwar teacher shortages. However, partially
because of the control exercised by Dean Rogers and Dean
Hull, respectively, the Council did not expand its sphere
beyond teacher education and credentialing, so that deci
sions about School of Education special wartime services
devolved upon its faculty.
Wartime Services of the School of Education
On November 4, 1942, the same date on which Dean
Rogers reluctantly acknowledged the President's committee
on "interrelations of the teacher education program," the
to the education and certification of teachers in the Uni
versity." The statement further confirmed that the Coun
cil continued to be "responsible directly to the President
of the University" (Bulletin, 47, 1 [February 1, 1952],
pp. 8-9). The statement remains substantially the same in
the current Bulletin (64, 4 [September 1, 1968], p. 29).
395
Dean put before the faculty President von KleinSmid's
request that each division of the University "consider
problems growing out of the war situation. " The Dean
asked the Curriculum and Schedule Committee "to make a
study of the work of the School of Education and submit a
report to the faculty . . . ." In direct response to the
request, Professor Melbo, acting as the committee's chair
man and spokesman (the other members being Professors
Campbell, Hull, Lefever, and Smith), presented its care
fully wrought and comprehensive report. (This time, for
tunately, the "attached report" remained attached, and
only an "accompanying table" indicating the relationship
of School of Education courses to the state program of
credential requirements and to University degree require
ments is missing from the Minutes, II: 359, 360-363.)
The report first set the tone of the times by con
firming the School of Education's commitment to inclusion
in the wartime mobilization of the nation's resources.
"A professional school of education," asserted the commit
tee, "is an inseparable part of the public school systems
of the state or region which it serves."
The School of Education would therefore respond will-
396
ingly to President Roosevelt's call upon organized public
school systems for a twofold contribution:
1. directly "to the war effort by performing certain
duties and functions which they alone can perform"; and
2. "to the preservation of democracy and the Ameri
can way of life," thereby reaffirming the role of public
education as "essential to the national welfare."
The special function of the professional school of
education, observed the committee, was to provide three
services to the public school systems:
1. training "new teachers and administrators to re
place those called away . . . by government, military, and
industrial establishments";
2. assisting in "retraining older teachers who are
called back into service"; and
3. assisting "regular employees of school districts
in solving their problems of providing new instruction
requested by military forces and government, and in pro
viding instruction and services as requested by industry."
In consideration of the above demands upon its re
sources, the committee addressed itself to defining the
essential wartime services of the School of Education.
397
First, the committee concluded, the School of Educa
tion must continue to provide courses required for teach
ing and administrative credentials.
Second, it must continue to provide degree courses
"as long as the University accepts students in such
curricula." (The committee here noted the overlapping
of degree and credential courses and directed the reader
to the now missing table.)
Third, the School of Education must regard "as es
sential" those courses "offered specifically to enable
employees of one or more school districts to solve the
special war time problems of those districts." (The com
mittee here remarked on the "flexible nature of many of
the offerings of the School of Education" and noted that
many had been "converted in large degree to include oppor
tunity for students to solve immediate, pressing war time
problems of their respective school districts," and that
such courses had been requested by several school dis
tricts for their employees.)
The committee then went on to detail seven special
needs of public education which the University would at
tempt to meet. Of these, six were to be mentioned months
398
later by President von KleinSmid's three-member committee
on "interrelationships of teacher education" and are
listed above in the discussion of that committee's work.
In reference to one of the items, that of the inception
of "Graduate Centers," the report which is of present
concern went further in detailing that
[rjequests for the establishment of Graduate
Centers for school employees have been received
to date from San Diego, Santa Ana City and
Orange County, Ventura City and County, Alhambra,
Bakersfield and Kern County Schools, Reedley and
vicinity, Montebello, and Long Beach. . . .
[These requests express] a clear and pressing
need for the services which a professional
school of education can render in assisting the
employees of school districts to adjust their
program of instruction to war time needs and to
help in the organization and operation of speci
al war time services which such districts have
been called upon to render. The problem has be
come especially acute because of transportation
difficulties. Whereas in the past, many indivi
duals from these centers have come to the Univers
ity for assistance, it is now impossible for them
to do so. They are, therefore, requesting that
the University come to them and that the Univers
ity be prepared to offer courses, to hold confer
ences, to render expert service, and to provide
advisory assistance.
The report then went on to explain the larger sig
nificance of such service and to make some predictions
about its future effects.
399
To the extent that the University is prepared
and able to render these services it makes a
direct contribution to the war effort and to
the national welfare, and establishes for it
self a position of leadership which undoubted
ly will continue long after the war emergency
has passed. It is the responsibility of the
University School of Education to make its
staff and facilities available to meet these
needs.
Thus the special report of the Committee on Curri
culum and Schedule delineated the ways the School of
Education could serve the war effort within and through
extension of its traditional role of trainer of public
school teachers and administrators and consultant to
school systems.
The School of Education also performed wartime serv
ice outside its usual sphere of activity in the Civilian
Pilot Training Program by "training men who [would] go
directly into the military forces or allied agencies as
instructors" (Minutes, 11: 360-363 passim).
Despite the readiness of the School of Education to
exceed the inherent limits of its emergency functions even
further, as stipulated in the committee report and en
dorsed by the faculty, other divisions of the University
pre-empted the training of pre-military, military, and
400
paramilitary personnel. These were mainly the Schools of
Engineering, Dentistry, and Medicine and the College of
Letters, Arts, and Sciences, which housed among them the
Army Specialized Training Units, the Navy V-12 Program,
and others. "By March of 1943, there were some 1,430 mil
itary students at USC" (Servin and Wilson, pp. 131-132),
of whom only about 75 were in the School of Education.
The professor who had chaired the Committee on Curri
culum and Schedule and had been instrumental in preparing
the wartime services report to the faculty. Dr. Irving R.
Melbo, was himself soon thereafter to leave for military
duty. His last meeting prior to leaving for service in
the United States Navy was that of December 16, 1942.
(still speaking as chairman of the committee, he suggested
several practical actions related to implementation of the
intent of its report [Minutes, II: 364]). Some two years
later, at the meeting of November 8, 1944, Dr. Weersing,
secretary of the faculty, recorded that "[t]he faculty
welcomed back from two years of service in the Navy, Lt.
Irving R. Melbo, who returned to his former post with us
as Associate Professor of Education" (Minutes, II: 388).
In a very real sense, Dr. Melbo's return signalled
401
the beginning of the postwar era. The first recorded
mention of the possibility of postwar planning within the
University was made in the case of the School of Education
when Dean Rogers suggested on December 16, 1942, that the
faculty should prepare for its role in the "adjustment of
the [public] school program to possible post war program"
(Minutes, II: 364). Not until a year later did Dr. Raub-
enheimer unofficially present to the faculty "the matter
of post-war educational planning at the University" (Min
utes , II: 371). Thereafter, a few gestures were made in
that direction within the School of Education, but nothing
of consequence is recorded in the Minutes or elsewhere as
having transpired. But within two weeks of Dr. Melbo's
return, coincidentally at the same meeting which found Dr.
Carl Hancey introduced as the new Acting Assistant to the
Dean and welcomed as a part-time staff member, Dean Rogers
announced the totally revised constituencies of the nine
committees of the School of Education, three of them--
Postwar Planning, Public Relations and Publicity, and
Student Organization and Activities--new. Dr. Melbo was
named chairman of the Postwar Planning Committee, and the
other members were Drs. Hull, Weersing, and Blackstone
402
(Minutes, II: 391).
Preparation for the Postwar Period
The deliberations and recommendations of the short
lived Committee on Postwar Planning must have been more
extensive than the record indicates. Several reports were
submitted to the faculty by Dr. Melbo; unfortunately,
their details are lacking. From certain developments of
the early postwar years, inferences may be drawn that they
derived from directions set--or, at least, indicated--by
the committee. But none warrants amplification here.
In the postwar era, the needs of the public school
systems propelled the School of Education in the direc
tions it took in curricular trends, rather than vice-
versa. Two significant examples may be cited, both of
which are based on more than adequate documentary evi
dence.
The first arose when Howard Campion, Assistant Super
intendent of the Los Angeles City Schools, urged the Post-
War Planning Committee to include in its projections for
the School of Education graduate work leading to the mas
ter's degree in industrial arts. This need, wrote Campion
403
in his letter of January 9, 1945, was "not being met by
any existing facilities of the universities or colleges
of California." He cited the fact that the Los Angeles
City School District employed about 400 industrial arts
teachers, with a similar number in the other Los Angeles
County districts, and stated his conviction that many of
the total group would be eager to avail themselves of the
program he was soliciting in their behalf.
Reinforcing Campion's letter was one from Claude E.
Nihart, Head Supervisor in Vocational and Practical Arts
for the Los Angeles City Schools, who offered concrete
ideas on a master's degree curriculum in industrial arts
and named specialists in his division whom he adjudged to
be qualified to teach the industrial arts courses for the
School of Education (Minutes, III: (402-403).
In response to these persuasive urgings, the Postwar
Planning Committee, over Dr. Melbo's signature, recommend
ed a series of courses be added to the curriculum which
would meet the needs described above. The committee
noted that comparable needs existed in home economics and
suggested that steps should also be taken to meet them
(Minutes, III [January 31, 1945], p. 401).
404
Upon the unanimous adoption of the committee's recom
mendations, the summer session of 1945 offered "Graduate
Courses and Conference in Industrial Arts Education"
(Minutes, III [April 11, 1945], p. 411), and the Bulletin
of 1946-1948 listed five courses in industrial arts teach
ing and administration (41, 6 [May 1946], pp. 93-94). The
five offerings had expanded to six upper division and five
graduate courses, including a master's project seminar and
the thesis, in the Bulletin of 1948-1950 (43, 7 [August
1948], pp. 71-72). This program in industrial arts educa
tion continued through the period of the present history,
only to falter and disappear with the Bulletin of 1956-
1958 (51, 13 [March 1956]). As to the suggestion for home
economics, it never got off the ground.
The other promised example of how the demands of
public education channeled the programs of the School of
Education needs but little amplification. Inevitably, the
Committee on Postwar Planning was drawn into the current
of the one problem which virtually engulfed all school
systems, state departments of education, and institutions
of teacher education: the teacher shortage. On March 28,
1945, "Professor Campbell presented a report on the
405
combined action of the Postwar Planning Committee and the
Committee on Curriculum on the recruitment and education
of prospective emergency teachers .... Professor Camp*
bell reported that he and Professor Melbo, for the above
mentioned committees, were at work on itineraries for
visitation of the junior colleges ..." (Minutes, III:
409)
Without announcement that might have been recorded
in the Minutes, the Committee on Postwar Planning soon
thereafter ceased to function; it was not again mentioned.
On October 17, 1945, under a new administration, the new
roster of committees was discussed and announced. Among
others. Dr. Melbo found himself assigned to several new
committees, one of which, the Committee on Organization
and Personnel, with Drs. Lefever and Thorpe, was to be
described officially as having authority
(a) to recommend to the Faculty the committee
structure for the School of Education and the
personnel of the standing committees, and
(b) to serve as an advisory committee to the
21
The faculty of the School of Education agreed to go
to the junior colleges to speak to and to interview in
terested and recommended students as teacher education
prospects--decidedly an emergency procedure I
406
Dean and the Faculty. It shall be elected
annually by ballot (Minutes, III [10-23-1946],
p. 428 insert).
Dean Rogers Retires
As the developments, events, and trends selected to
tell the story of the history of the School of Education
have unfolded in the pages just preceding, now and then a
reference was made to Professor Hull as "Chairman of the
Council on Teacher Education," or to "Dean Hull," or to
"a new administration." Such inobtrusive introduction to
the fact that Dean Rogers had withdrawn from the faculty
of the School of Education is in keeping with the way his
retirement is disclosed in the collected Minutes.
Not the slightest suggestion that such a decision was
in prospect surfaces anywhere in the records of meetings
prior to that of August 1, 1945, although it is likely
that the decision, if closely held, was not a secret. Yet
on that date alone. Miss Humrichouse entered tersely and
free of any editorial touch that "Dr. Hull reported that
22
In point of fact, this committee was called the Com
mittee on Committees in the Committee Organization chart
for 1945-1946 (p. 428).
407
an occasion had been planned for Saturday morning, Sep
tember 1, celebrating twenty-five years of achievements in
Education in this area, and of recognition to Dean Rogers
apropos of his retirement,"
So the "recognition to Dean Rogers apropos of his
retirement" took on the quality of an afterthought tagged
onto another event.
Equally brief was Miss Humrichouse's summary of Dean
Rogers' final remarks.
Dean Rogers expressed his appreciation of the
fine cooperation and sincere endeavor of every
member of the faculty in their endeavors to
develop a worth-while program at the University
of Southern California.
With that, the meeting was adjourned (Minutes, III:
426), and Dean Rogers had chaired his last meeting.
The name of Lester Burton Rogers never again appears
in the collected Minutes of the faculty meetings of the
School of Education.
These last items: the new committee structure, the
very existence of a Committee on Organization and Person
nel with the power vested in it as set forth in the quota
tion above, and the retirement of Dean Rogers, all possess
implications which will receive more extended interpréta-
408
tion in the next chapter. For the moment, let the items
signify that the School of Education had "come of age"
and that the war's end and the end of Dean Rogers' tenure
simultaneously heralded the onset of a distinctly changed
atmosphere at the University of Southern California as a
whole as well as within its instrumentality in the field
of professional education, the School of Education.
409
CHAPTER VII
HARVEST OF THE POSTWAR ERA
Antecedents and Processes of Change
Historical accidents are rarities; outside of natu
ral catastrophes--the proverbial "acts of God"--historic
events in the affairs of men have their antecedents in
prior events and conditions which, in scholarly retro
spection, reveal their roots and causes. So it is in the
history of nations and of peoples; so it has been in the
history of the School of Education of the University of
Southern California.
Nor have developments in the history of the School
of Education been so singular that valid analogues cannot
be drawn from the histories of a dozen other institu
tions of higher education. (In their respective special
spheres, the works of O ’Leary [1941j, Brubacher and Rudy
L1958J, and Hofstadter and Metzger [1955] are such exer
cises.) To make the case in a framework more immediately
pertinent to the present study, changes that occurred in
410
the University itself were concomitant with those manifest
within the School of Education to the degree that they
connoted interaction and even interdependence.
Therefore, in purporting to depict the postwar ambi
ence of the School of Education, the present chapter will
set its subject in the perspective of antecedents and con
currences which are historically germane.
The School of Education Asserts Its Autonomy
A series of situations of similar but unrelated cir
cumstances seems to have contributed smartly to an in
creasingly steadier posture of independence and assertive
ness on the part of the School of Education in its rela
tionships with other divisions of the University. Each of
these situations tested the autonomy and prerogatives of
the School of Education; each would-be or temporary incur
sion, however benign, was met with a steadfast refusal to
yield on the principle at issue. This steadfastness
tended also to strengthen the position of the members of
the Education faculty.
The first of the situations which serve as exemplars
of the trend arose when Dr. Milton Metfessel, Professor
411
of Psychology in the College of Letters, Arts, and Sci
ences (and, coincidentally, father of Newton Metfessel,
now Professor in the School of Education),
expressed his desire to so present the oppor
tunities for Psychology here on the campus as
to be understood and fully appreciated by any
one interested in the resources at the Univers
ity of Southern California in Psychology, par
ticularly examining committees with reference
to facilities for the doctorate.
Dean Rogers accepted Dr. Metfessel*s invitation to
discuss the problems involved but "invited Dr. Rauben-
heimer and Dr. Lefever, as the two members of the staff
interested, to sit with him and Dr. Metfessel in the dis
cussion of the problems involved." The result of their
meetings was a "Memorandum on the Collaboration of the
School of Education with the Department of Psychology,"
which outlined recommendations for a system of collabora
tion which purported to obviate the attendant danger of
obliterating lines of responsibility and affiliation
(Minutes, II ^ February 11, 1935 j, p. 225).
But the faculty seems not to have been satisfied by
the document despite its attempt to preclude such possib
ilities. The faculty expressed their concern to the Dean
that "official responsibility" over courses which were
412
cross-listed might be disturbed and that the "identity of
professors" in their relation to the School of Education
might be jeopardized, their fear being that "too much
overlapping would weaken the force of the professor's
prestige in his chosen field" (Thompson, n.d., p. 34).
Although he had been a signatory to the original
memorandum. Dean Rogers had apparently been moved to
second thoughts on its content. Apropos of an intervening
discussion with Dr. von KleinSmid, Dean Rogers addressed
a supplementary memorandum to the President on March 8,
1935,^ in which he clarified his own and his faculty's
position on a central issue.
"I would dislike very much," he wrote, "to have any
change in the titles of our men in Education that would
be uniformly followed in al1-University publications."
His reference was to the suggestion in the first memo
randum that Professors of Education be listed as "Profes
sors of Educational Psychology" in "departmental or divi
sional publications in Psychology" (Minutes', II: 225).
^No faculty meetings were called between November 22,
1934, and March 22, 1935, as the Dean was in the East for
a considerable portion of that period.
413
He acknowledged that the suggested change was not intended
to lead to al1-University changes along the same lines;
nevertheless, the prospect made him so ill at ease that
he was "not enthusiastic about it" for both philosophic
and pragmatic reasons. Thus he wrote,
To give to certain of our staff departmental
titles would be inconsistent unless we give
all our staff some such titles. To this change
I would be very much opposed in both principle
and practice. The high degree in specializa
tion that has grown out of this practice is the
particular weakness of Teachers College and
some other institutions (Minutes, II: 228).
He feared, moreover, that more extensive changes
would "result in the undermining of the morale of our
men in Education."
In closing his memorandum to President von KleinSmid,
Dean Rogers directed a barb at the Psychology Department.
(Perhaps he could not resist doing it for all the threat
ening implications the idea of collaboration had invoked.)
In passing, may I make a suggestion that is
wholly outside my field ; namely that the first
course in Psychology would be much more effect
ive if it is the orientation type rather than
the experimental type, and it would be more in
keeping with the trends of the time. Much of
the work in the experimental aspect of Psychol
ogy could, without disaster, be deferred to the
upper division and graduate years.
414
Dean Rogers' words were fighting words--even contem
porary academic psychologists might take them so--but
they came from an administrator aroused to the attack in
defense of the autonomy of his school, the integrity of
his staff, and the prerogatives of his office in what
could have been an instinctive tactic of diverting the
"enemy" to another front.
His tactic may have succeeded. In any case, the
record does not reveal ensuing internecine friction.
But on his convincingly argued position. Dean Rogers
held sway.
The second illustration of the assertion of institu
tional prerogative and identity is based upon an anecdote
told by Dean Hull regarding jurisdiction over late after
noon and evening classes. As Dr. Hull explained, Univers
ity College had assumed control over these classes when,
after having been offered off-campus only, they began to
be offered on the University campus. University College
control of Education offerings was not acceptable to the
School of Education.
"We insisted," said Dean Hull, "as a graduate school,
a professional school, that we choose the faculty and
415
control the courses."
University College stoutly resisted relinquishing
control over the schedule and the income from what made
up a large proportion of such late offerings. Not to be
deterred, and supported by the Schools of Law and Engin
eering, Dean Hull took the matter to the Deans' Council.
Dr. Raubenheimer was incredulous.
Dr. Raubenheimer said--he was presiding over
the Deans' Council for President Fagg--"You
mean. Dr. Hull, that the School of Education
will take on and operate all these late after
noon and evening classes?"
I said, "Yes sir. We're ready to do it."
But the matter was not yet resolved. There was a
subsequent hearing before the President himself and his
administrative council to which Dean Hull asked Dr. Melbo
to accompany him. And, Dean Hull recalled, Dr. Melbo
came through with a masterpiece. . . . He
said, "Gentlemen, when it comes to profes
sional training which is the responsibility
of the professional schools, University Col
lege is a college without a curriculum, it
grants no degrees, it grants no certificates,
it has no permanent faculty. I think it's
quite obvious where responsibility should lie."
That's about all he said, but they had no
answer to that.
And of course they |_University College] were
showing the income they had from these tuitions.
But who wrote up the courses, who planned the
416
program, who processed the units for diplomas,
who processed the units for recommendations on
certificates, who processed all the personnel
records? My office. [It was] our courses in
Education that brought that income in . . . and
we want[ed] credit for it on our budget (Hull,
1968).
But more than budgetary considerations motivated
Dean Hull, Dr. Melbo, and the rest of the School of Edu
cation faculty to argue so trenchantly and to be ready to
assume the added chores of scheduling, classroom assign
ments, and attendant minutiae. At issue was the integrity
of a professional school, and on that they were adamant.
In recalling the spirit of this assertion of profes
sional identity. Dean Hull put it this way:
One of the finest compliments we ever had down
here, when Dr. Fagg was fairly new as the Pres-
ident--been here a year or two, I think--he
said [to me],
"I have a problem that I don’t want to
take before the Committee of Deans until I’ve
thought it through with some other people.
I’m calling you to a luncheon meeting up in
my private lunchroom . . . with the deans of
the five major professional schools, and I
want you to come."
One of the five major professional schools
--I didn’t care what liberal arts said about us
after that. . . . Now that’s something when
you fight your way up from a department of lib
eral arts. . . . that’s a part of the thing
that keeps you going.
417
Assertions of Professorial Prerogatives
A spirit of seIf-assertiveness was abroad at the
University of Southern California as World War Two drew
to a close. As Servin and Wilson put it,
The most essential part of the University, the
faculty, had . . . changed radically since
spring of 1944. The 111 staff members appoint
ed in 1944, and the retirement of the older,
extremely loyal and dedicated professors, im
bued the faculty with a different spirit. The
young, new instructors affected by the changes
of the war years, were not of the docile and
easily satisfied generation of previous USC
faculties. Reared in the carefree and opulent
period of the war, they were submissive neither
to administrative decisions nor to economic
hardship (p. 138).
Antithetical to the mood of the faculty was the dis
position of President von KleinSmid.
By 1946 President von KleinSmid was approaching
seventy-one years of age, having received his
last contract in 1941, nine days short of his
sixty-sixth birthday. The product of another
generation, authoritative by nature, he neither
recognized the changes taking place in the
faculty nor understood its psychological and
financial needs (p. 138).
For the first time in President von KleinSmid's
career at USC, a revolt was brewing within the University.
Instead of proceeding in a way that might forstall seri
ous trouble, the administration only aggravated the
418
situation. As Servin and Wilson explained it,
Unfortunately, the administration, which was
easily recruiting new faculty from former war
industries at slightly better pay than that
offered to its loyal wartime staff, failed to
recognized the economic suffering of its staff.
This lack of recognition . . . intensified the
dissatisfaction .... [T]he lack of an ade
quate retirement plan, the nonexistence of a
salary schedule, the heavy teaching load, the
absence of research funds and facilities, the
overdiscipline of the educational administra
tion, and need for an academic senate became
paramount (p. 139).
Older professors, emboldened by the daring of their
younger colleagues, sought a means to unify the faculty
and to present their grievances in dignity and in unison.
An organizational entity was needed; affiliation with the
American Federation of Labor was rejected in favor of re
activation of the University chapter of the faculty’s own
organization, the American Association of University Pro
fessors. Someone "looked up the records and found that
their last chapter president had been Dr. Weersing, pro
fessor of education" (p. 140).
Thereby, through Professor Weersing, the AAUP chapter
became the instrumentality of change. Dr. Frank Baxter,
eminent Shakespearian scholar, was elected its new presid
ent. Studies were performed; letters and memoranda were
419
exchanged; a March 1946 salary adjustment with increases
averaging "not more than 10%" was mocked by the faculty in
the face of an "increase of 33.7% in the cost of living."
This whole series of episodes, which culminated with
the resignation of Dr. von KleinSmid as President and his
assumption of the title of Chancellor of the University,
"whose duties were to assist in public relations" with
"no . . . duties of an administrative or executive nature"
(pp. 142-143), Servin and Wilson interpret as having been
triggered by financial considerations. Their contention
is that the "Revolt of 1946" would not have become full
blown without that issue. They put it this way:
It is probable that there would have been few
repercussions--if any at all--from the Univers
ity faculty, if it had received adequate or
substantial salary increases in the fall of
1945 (p. 139).
In view of their own statements quoted in passing
above, it is difficult to credit Servin and Wilson’s in
terpretation of the episodes they describe. To digest
the substance of their description, they stated that the
"radically changed" faculty "were submissive neither to
administrative decisions nor to economic hardship,’’ When
the University offered to postwar recruits to the faculty
420
"slightly better pay than that offered to its loyal war
time staff," what "intensified the dissatisfaction" was
the "lack of recognition" of the "economic suffering" of
the older staff and not--by imp1ication--the economic
suffering itself.
Moreover, USC's co-historians’ summary of the "para
mount" issues of the day marshals additional evidence
that the deepest dissatisfactions stemmed, not--as they
imply--from the professors’ personal straits, but from
University practices which demeaned their status as pro
fessors in a major university. Of the six grievances
enumerated by Servin and Wilson, only two relate directly
to financial issues. The first, "lack of an adequate re
tirement plan," was more the concern of the older profes
sors and less of their younger counterparts for whom re
tirement was rather remote. The second, "nonexistence of
a salary schedule," has never been urgently pressed for
at USC; professors have been content to live without a
salary schedule of the public school or state college
type as long as each has received fair, adequate if not
generous, and competitive compensation.
The other deprivations--of a different order--were
421
far more compelling. It is characteristic of the uni
versity professor to guard vigilantly his institution's
academic standing, his own professional prestige, and his
professorial dignity. (An instance of a professor ex
pressing such participatory pride occurred when Dean Hull
told of President Fagg's inclusion of the School of Educa
tion among the University's professional schools, cited
above.) Perhaps the most tragic interval in the history
of the University, as recounted by Servin and Wilson,
spanned the critical months of 1946 when, to the faculty's
distress and disappointment, the University fell short of
the faculty's aspirations on each count within the scope
of the concepts of academic and professional stature and
dignity.
Thus, the "absence of research funds and^facilities"
combined effectively with the "heavy teaching load" to
stifle research, thereby compromising the very name
"university" in the eyes of its research-minded postwar
faculty.
Thus, the single most telling source of discontent,
that which flew most flagrantly in the face of the
faculty's individual and collective self-concepts, Servin
422
and Wilson called "the overdiscipline of the educational
administration,"
These, then, were the elements of the most disparate
polarization ever to divide the USC faculty and adminis
tration: on the one hand, a faculty imbued with the
spirit of a nation which, as the bastion of democracy and
standard-bearer of the free world, had just emerged vic
torious from a long and sanguinary war against fascist
tyranny, a faculty, therefore, to whom institutionalized
or personalized Prussianism, arbitrary authoritarianism,
abridgement of democratic processes, and insults to indi
vidual dignity were moral as well as personal affronts;
on the other hand an administration accustomed to quies
cence and acquiescience on the part of the faculty, toward
whom it maintained an attitude of paternalistic bene
volence, sustained in its authoritarian posture by a
powerful President of a quarter century's tenure.
And what of President von KleinSmid, whose influence
permeated the University and instilled in his administrat
ive staff the fortitude to maintain an authoritarian post
ure at a time when it seemed to be anachronistic? Accord
ing to his biographer's findings, Dr. von KleinSmid's
423
administrative leadership was characterized by appeals to
"traditionalism as a source of ultimate value"; by "play
fulness " ; "aristocratic bearing," dress, and countenance;
magnanimity; "public-spiritedness"; "assiduousness, if
not, at times, penuriousness"; "a paternalistic bent";
"pride" and "stubbornness"; "power, authority, and cen
tralism"; "a world-wide view of international purpose";
"optimism"; "a high style of delivery of speech"; and a
"flair for the dramatic" (Hungerford, pp. 182-183 passim).
Conspicuous in their absence from Hungerford's list
are words or phrases that might convey attributes of
flexibility in the face of changing times or of recept
ivity to new ideas or to positions antithetical to his
own, as are the adjectives democratic and equalitarian.
Thus, in sum. Dr. von KleinSmid's style of benevol
ently authoritarian paternalism, though it may have been
peculiarly apt during the period of his presidential
puissance (see above and below), became transformed by
time into an archaism whose consequences the faculty
could not abide.
In the School of Education, too, an authoritarian
held sway. Dean Rogers was a blunt and serious man,
424
hard-working and pragmatic, dedicated in his way to the
School of Education as was the President to the University
at large. But Dean Rogers had neither the charisma nor
the urbanity of a von KleinSmid.
Nevertheless, during the antebellum period, only
token resistance to Dean Rogers arose. The single faculty
challenge of record resulted from the Dean's peremptory
veto of a faculty action to ease requirements for the
Master of Education degree. (See Footnote 11, Chapter
VI.) More often, when the Dean suggested or even directed
an action at which the faculty took umbrage, their usual
tactic was to sabotage the idea by inaction.
An outstanding instance of this kind of dilatory
ploy revolved around the Dean's abiding interest in
"effective work in the classroom." On May 9, 1930,
[d]ue to certain problems which ha[d] come to
his attention, and with the thought that in
structors in Education should be above the
average of the University staff in their work
in the class room. Dean Rogers presented the
need for each instructor in Education to give
special consideration to his effectiveness in
the class room (Minutes, I; 156).
Appended to the record of that date was the Dean's "Digest
of Suggestions," constituting a thoughtful and useful
425
outline of teaching procedures, beginning with suggestions
for previewing the course and the day's work, continuing
through provisions for continuity and progress, problem-
discussion attitudes, testing and grading, and winding up
with estimates of the instructor's contribution, his re
lation to students outside the classroom, and his personal
interests (Minutes, I: 157-158 passim).
The record indicates that Dean Rogers' contribution
on teaching methodology was distributed to the faculty.
Perhaps he was satisfied by their reception of his sug
gestions and did not pursue the matter further. Or per
haps the "problems that had come to his attention" had
abated. Whatever the case, two years passed.
On September 8, 19 32, the Dean proposed a program of
"faculty seminars in Education to consider carefully pre
pared papers on the improvement of class room work" (Min
utes , I: 198), In that academic year a series of meet
ings on the subject of the Dean's interest did occur, car
rying through the spring semester of 1933.
On September 18, 1933, immediately upon the resump
tion of the regular session after the summer interval,
the Dean again raised questions about effective teaching
426
by the faculty reminiscent of those which he had attempted
to help them with in 1930. The faculty's solution then
was to move and carry "that each instructor visit the
classrooms of his associates, in an endeavor to find the
best methods ..." (Minutes, II: 208).
But the Dean was insistent. A week later, on Sep
tember 29, 1933, he confronted the faculty with the
following question:
"Do you feel that we should maintain or desire
to maintain within our group a faculty seminar
or group discussion program?" (Minutes, II:
209).
On behalf of the faculty and with their concurrence.
Dr. Hull answered in the affirmative. But no seminars
were held, and a year passed.
On September 17, 1934, the Dean once again raised
the possibility of reinstituting the seminar series and
appointed a committee of three, Drs. Tiegs, Crawford, and
Haynes, to "consider the problems involved" (Minutes, II:
223). They considered the problems involved. This time,
they were forced to reply more directly. A week later
the committee brought in its recommendation; in view of
the pressure of other responsibilities, especially of the
427
comprehensive seminar which was then in full swing, they
suggested that the faculty forego such an undertaking for
the time being (Minutes, II: 224), The Dean accepted
the committee's judgment and the faculty's support of it,
and he never again raised the issue.
It is impossible to know with certainty what the
faculty's true feelings were about the seminar series.
They never expressed displeasure with the idea. But the
record cited contains incontrovertible circumstantial
evidence that the faculty did all in its power to prevent
a seminar series from materializing in the first place
and from being reinstituted after its discontinuance.
Then, having for four years avoided declaring its reluct
ance outright, upon the Dean's forcing the issue, the
faculty chose to placate him by pleading excessive com
mitment to other responsibilities.
The logical inference from the demise of the whole
matter after the Dean's fairly intensive efforts to create
an ongoing program is that he understand the faculty's
feelings, recognized their tact, respected their wishes,
and withdrew on the issue.
That was in 1934, when professors were compliant and
428
content to remain with the University, overworked and
underpaid, grateful for a modicum of security in a time
of national depression. Moreover, faculty and administra
tion were in fundamental agreement on the principle of
administrative authority. In most cases, the benevolent
authoritarians of the University--von KleinSmid and
Rogers, to name the two who are immediately pertinent--
took positions and actions with which the professors con
curred in conviction rather than in obeisant capitulation.
If a professor suffered an occasional indignity at the
hands of administration, that was accepted as among the
inevitable concomitants of administrative prerogatives.
Unlike their counterparts in many of the major East
ern universities, at Stanford, and at some less prominent
institutions, professors at USC were generally disinclined
to attempt to wrest concessions from administrators on the
principle that administrative processes should be demo
cratically based. Not for nothing had the USC chapter of
o
the AAUP become defunct. As for faculty militancy to
^See Hofstadter and Metzger (1955) on the incipient
unrest involving AAUP and faculty-administrâtion relations
in American higher education as early as World War One.
429
lighten teaching loads, obtain tenure, and secure the
University's authorization for the establishment of an
academic senate--that would have been inconsistent with
the professors' conception of themselves as loyal members
of the institutional hierarchy.
Dean Hull's recollection of how he came to join the
USC faculty reveals something of the benevolent paternal
ism that characterized administrâtion-faculty relation
ships. This is how he told it:
When I came down here as an assistant professor
in 1924, I'd been recommended by the men up at
Berkeley. Dr. Touton had been on my committee
up there, and he was now down here on the fac
ulty . . . . I came down and interviewed with
Dean Rogers . . . and they had this place for
me . . . . I went in to be interviewed by Dr.
von KleinSmid.
He said, "You've been recommended, and
such and such will be your salary and your
rating. Now, as to your tenure, we don't have
tenure here. The understanding is that when
you come to the University we hope that you
will be a permanent member of the faculty, but
your continuation as a faculty member depends
on the mutual satisfaction of both of us."
He said it in such a nice way and all
that, and white hair and so forth (not so white
then), I couldn't help but smile a little bit,
and I said, "Well, Dr. von KleinSmid, I'll do
my best to make myself acceptable to you."
That was my contract.
Thus, the tender of a gentlemen's agreement as a
430
contract of employment, which in a later era would be
looked upon by both administration and faculty as no
suitable basis for a working arrangement between a large
public institution of higher education and a professor,
was met with a smile of resigned acceptance.
As to the later era just alluded to--to return now
to the impending retirement of Dean Rogers--his author
itarianism, which had found expression in myriad subtle
and straightforward ways, was now silhouetted against the
backdrop of the new self-image of the School of Education
professor who expected treatment commensurate with the
elevated status which his title bore in the academic com
munity. By the last year of World War Two, Dean Rogers'
style of administration had become a conspicuous anomaly
(Hull, 1968; Weersing, 1969).
At the same time, activism among the School of Educa
tion faculty was recognizable. The key men of the time
were Dr. Weersing, ever prodding the administration to
enlarge the decision-making power of the professors;^
g
Besides personally admitting to this role. Dr. Weer
sing 's goading of the administration is evident in the
fact of his AAUP leadership and in his attempts in School
431
Dr. Lefever, likewise among those who actively sought more
democratic attitudes and more democracy in the processes
of administration within the School of Education as well
as in the University at largeDr. Thompson, a gentle,
reticent scholar but a civil libertarian who would opt
against authoritarianism in a showdown (Thompson, 1968);
Dr. Hull, like Thompson in gentle disposition, whose al
legiance to his colleagues stemmed from spontaneous per
sonal kindness rather than from libertarian concepts
(Weersing, 1969); Dr. Melbo, like Dr. Thompson and Dr.
of Education faculty meetings to divert decision-making
from the Dean to the faculty. (See Minutes, II [January
I 1, 1936], p. 239; et passim.)
^With three professors from other divisions of the
University, including Eleazar Lecky of English, Dr.
Lefever served on the first Committee on the Academic
Senate. The preamble of its report, dated January 26,
1946, reads as follows:
"It is with the aim of establishing a broadly repre
sentative group of the faculty which shall be democratic
in its operation and capable of enlisting the fullest co
operation of faculty in the development and growth of the
University of Southern California that we propose the
creation of a Faculty Senate at the University of Southern
California.
"It shall be the purpose of such a group to work with
the various Departments, Divisions, and Schools in such a
manner as to secure for them and their members the utmost
freedom and autonomy compatible with the general welfare
of the University" (Minutes, III: 447).
432
Hull no rebel, but young, vigorous, worldly, and imagin
ative, possessed of an apprehension of the future of the
School of Education which underwrote his support of posi
tions of progress into the dynamic postwar era of insti
tutions of higher education.^ The other professors, in
the main, could be counted upon to accede quietly to an
updating of the administration of the School of Education.
If an organized revolt ever developed against Dean
Rogers, it is not a matter of public record. In their
respective interviews, both Hull and Weersing implied that
there was some concerted faculty action; but, out of de
ference to the memory of a man who had led the School of
Education through difficult years and had labored devoted
ly for its nurturance, neither was explicit. No specific
issue was suggested by anyone as having precipitated the
resignation. Thompson, Hull, and Weersing, each in turn.
^Cf., for example. Dr. Melbo*s consistent advocacy of
the use of film and related media for instruction long be
fore his colleagues were ready for such innovations. They
responded to his suggestions with alarm over initial costs
(Minutes, Council on Teacher Education, January 18, 1945,
p. 71; see also Minutes, II, passim). With Dr. Lefever,
Dr. Melbo was elected to the new University Senate in
January 1947 (Thompson, n.d., p. 73).
433
suggested that a buildup of resentment occurred toward
the end of Dean Rogers* administration.
One incident, reported by Servin and Wilson in an
other context, may have had a bearing upon Dean Rogers*
abrupt retirement. In 1945, the School of Education had
submitted its periodic report to the State Board of Educa
tion for reaccreditation as a teacher training institu
tion. Such applications had previously been filed without
incident on several occasions, most notably in 1938.^
Preparatory to the 1945 report, Dean Rogers discussed the
State Board's new standards of accreditation with the
faculty of the School of Education on November 15, 1944
(Minutes, II: 390). Accreditation had never been a rout
ine matter, especially while standards remained in a state
^Upon a decision made by the State Board of Education
in 1935, "accreditation of all private teacher training
institutions" was terminated in July 1938. With the deci
sion of 1935, State Superintendent Vierling Kersey asked
that "a graduate student at the University of Southern
California" perform a study "upon which the Board may base
a policy of accreditation" (Minutes, II [December 12,
1935 (?)J, p. 237). On January 12, 1938, Dean Rogers in
formed the faculty that a committee of which he was a mem
ber was "at work on the study of teacher education as a
basis for the establishment of policies to determine the
accreditation of institutions" (Minutes, II: 259).
434
of flux, but no serious question had arisen since the cur
tailed accreditation of the University High School had led
to its discontinuance many years earlier (see Chapter V).
Nor did the Dean and the faculty seem worried--the record
is clear on that--after all, the Dean was among the fram
ers of the standards of accreditation.
But another issue became injected into the report.
It must have been a source of embarrassment to the Univer
sity to have to reveal its niggardly salaries to the State
Board's accreditation committee, which regularly was com
posed of distinguished educators from all over the state.
So someone--the record is vague--made "a bloated salary
report to the State Board of Education" (Servin and
Wilson, p. 141).
Dean Rogers had retired long before the faculty com
mittee was to make the fact public in one of its more
scathing memoranda on the subject of salaries.
Lester Burton Rogers: An Assessment
It has been stated above that the authoritarianism
of von KleinSmid and Rogers may have been right for one
historic era and wrong for another, that to the degree
435
that the two administrators failed to change with the
times, so their styles became outmoded. As to their ac
complishments, the present great University of Southern
California and its large and influential School of Educa
tion are--in part, at least--monuments to them.
But the tie between the man and the years of prior
achievement dissolves in forgetfulness. Unfortunately
for the historical biographer, the principles of recency
and retroactive inhibition are operative: memory of the
early pages of a work fades, and that of the final pages
remains, especially when the latter provide the more last
ing impressions in delineations of the least attractive
aspects of their subject.
One strategy which utilizes the lessons of the curves
of learning and extinction employs a more leisurely as
sessment in the form of a summation that follows the end
of the historic account. Then the man can be viewed from
the perspective of the totality of his career, reflective
ly and dispassionately. The viewpoint is very often a
boon that comes with the detachment of retirement; the
essence of the strategy is to have access to those who
have retired from the scene of the history.
436
The present study is fortunate to have had access to
two retirees who had vivid memories of Dean Rogers and
could look back in contemplative objectivity. The quota
tions which follow are therefore included as the imple
ments of the strategy described above.
Let the words of the interviewees speak for them
selves. Thus spoke Dean Hull:
When he [Dean Rogers] first came here as Dean,
of course he had to have a strong hand like von
KleinSmid. Now in terms of philosophy, some of
my colleagues have been very critical of von
KleinSmid and Rogers, too. Both of them were
bosses ; they ran things with a strict hand and
pretty much by themselves. If they called a
committee meeting, it was to tell them, not to
solicit ideas. (And there are quite a few
jokes about that.)
But I always contended on behalf of these
men that they were pioneering a little liberal
arts college into a great university. And my
analogy is, when you start out across the plains
and the mountains in a covered wagon train, you
don't call a committee meeting every time you
have to make a decision. . . . You hire a boss
and what the boss says goes.
And I admire those men for the courage with
which they went ahead and pulled together a great
University and a great School of Education. . . .
. . . I have sympathy with von KleinSmid and
Rogers and their decisions. I always got fair
treatment. I didn't by any means get what I went
for, but I had an understanding hearing.
And thus. Dr. Weersing.
437
. . . Dr. von KleinSmid . . . was an empire build
er and something of a genius. . . . He was a man
of real ability and vision, a certain kind of
vision .................................................
Dean Rogers was a man in a million. He was canny,
very canny. . . . He knew what motivated people.
He knew how to build up an organization and keep
himself in the background. . . . he was tough in
good sense; he wasn't knocked over. He was the
opposite of what [President Lyndon B.] Johnson
was. He didn't mind if people didn't like him
particularly if he got a good job done. That's
what he was after.
. . . Rogers . . . had a great vision of teaching
as a service to the community and . . . lived by
that ideal and passed it on to our young people.
A Change in Administration
Dean Rogers' precipitant retirement, the University's
disinclination to rush into appointment of a new dean, the
climate of democracy abroad in the University, and the
faculty's apparent desire to preempt administrative pre
rogatives, all combined to enable the faculty of the
School of Education to seize the day. Their strategy--if
strategy it was--was to establish standing committees
which would assume many of the decision-making processes
that had previously resided with the dean and, subject to
the approval of the entire faculty, thereby to administer
the School of Education.
438
The idea of governance by committees was as revolu
tionary as it was to prove to be problematical, for its
consequences were to transform the inner workings of the
School of Education.
The first idea, that of standing committees, was an
innovation in its own right. "Up to the end of 1945 there
had been no order or systematization of committees or com
mittee work. Each one had been appointed as the need
arose and continued as long as seemed required" (Thompson,
n.d., p. 66). In the long run, the establishment of
standing committees was to prove a lasting structural
change which would permit the faculty to retain and to
wield much greater policy-making power than ever it had
before. Thereby, the trend toward increased democratiza
tion was partially satisfied.
The second idea, and the curiosity, was that over
seeing all committees was the Administrative Committee
consisting of Drs. Lefever, Melbo, and Hull, chairman.
To the Administrative Committee fell the mundane matters
material to the management of the School of Education.
To its chairman. Dr. Hull, fell the chairmanship of the
faculty meetings. All committees, standing, or "con-
439
tinuing," and special, reported to the Administrative
Committee (Minutes, III: 428).
For one academic year, 1945-1946, Dr. Hull chaired
the faculty meetings and countersigned the minutes as
"Chairman of the Administrative Committee" (Minutes, III
I October 17, 1945, to June 5, 1946, inclusive], pp. 427-
470 passim); and the School of Education was governed by
the committees. Soon, however, despite the wishes of
some to the contrary on principle, its problems became
insurmountable.
Administratively, the arrangement was inherently
unwieldy. As Dean Hull put it, "Who signs the diplomas?
Who signs the requisitions? Who signs the recommendations
for state credentials? Who represents the School of Edu
cation at the deans' meetings?" (Hull, 1968).
Inevitably, the dissipation of authority gave rise to
awkward situations. So, for example, when Dr. Hull ab
sented himself from the faculty meeting of January 9,
1946, to attend the funeral of Grayson Kefauver (£.v,),
"Professor Melbo presided at the beginning of the meeting;
Professor Lefever later" (Minutes, III: 442).
But probably most deleterious to the progress and
440
the status of the School of Education was the lack of an
administrator at its helm whose sense of institutional
direction would be sustained in spite of changeability in
the will of the majority of the faculty. This is not to
imply that the faculty's decision-making was either
frivolous or whimsical. Rather, so serious might the
differences among the faculty be that it would be immobil
ized. An administrator vested with some official author
ity could subordinate such differences by seeking and
defining the will of the majority and carrying it through
whether he agreed with it or not, rather than allowing the
viability of the School of Education to be subverted by
inaction.
Dr. Hull found that because his position as chairman
of the faculty meetings and of the Administrative Commit
tee carried no administrative authority, he was "getting
no place." It was not long before interested persons
became aware of the situation and moved to reestablish an
administrative hierarchy in the School of Education. Dr.
Hull recalled the sequence of events as follows:
. . . Trillingham, the County Superintendent
of Schools, and some other big shots around
here went to the President and said, "This
441
isn't right. The School of Education should
have a dean."
And they importuned him to make me the
dean. I heard about that, and I went to him
right away. I said, "Dr. von KleinSmid, it
has come to my attention that some of my
friends have been importuning you to make me
the dean."
And I said, "I want you to know that I
came to USC to teach, and if you don't make
me the dean you won't have a frustrated pro
fessor on your hands."
He laughed, you know. He said, "You can’t
help what your friends say."
And then, later, I went in and said, "Dr.
von KleinSmid, any reputation I have is as a
professor. . . . and I want to be reassigned
as a professor beginning next year."
That's what cut off the committee.
By Dean Hull's account, he had forced the issue, and
it may be that his action expedited the decision. But the
urgency was obvious; in the best interests of the School
of Education, a dean would have to be appointed. As to
the man, in view of his acceptability to the faculty and
to the administration of the University, his friends'
"importuning" of the President, and his administrative
experience in the School of Education and in the public
schools. Dr. Hull was the logical designee.
Osman Ransom Hull
Born in Fallbrook, California, on August 21, 1890,
442
Osman Ransom Hull was to earn in 1913 the Bachelor of
Science with a major in physics from the University of
California at Berkeley. Prepared by academic emphasis
for another career, he became a teacher. His account,
although not directly material to the history of the
School of Education, nevertheless is pertinent to con
sideration of the work and atmosphere of the institution.
And it reveals something of the character of a man who was
markedly to influence that history. Dean Hull recalled
as follows:
I started out to be an engineer, and with that
major in thermodynamics I got to be a laboratory
assistant. And then in my senior year I was a
teaching assistant--rather unusual recognition--
1 think there were two of us in our senior year.
Then that carried my graduate year [and] paid
my expenses till I got this master's. ( I went
out to teach with my master's degree.)
And in that experience, working with these
freshmen engineers--you see it was freshman en
gineering physics that I taught, under a profes
sor, of course--[lJ had all the quiz sections,
exams, and lab work, and all that.
And then through an involvement in YMCA work
and in church work with young people, even with
kids down on the waterfront sometimes. . . .
Used to ride around on the tandem of the
hooky cop's bicycle. He said, "Let me show you
something about [my work],"
Well, I was always interested in that angle.
I said, "This engineering and mechanics are not
for me; I'll work with people."
So that's how X got my first job up at
443
Crescent City where I was four years teaching
full time science and mathematics and princi
pal on the side. [A] county high school, [it
hadj about one hundred kids. I stayed there
four years working primarily with kids of that
town. You see it was a lumber camp originally;
two churches, both closed; eleven saloons, three
pool halls, no recreation. I was an athlete of
sorts, and I got in with the boys and we had a
program.
Well, at any rate, I mean it's that concern
and interest in people . . . that led me . . .
in working with teachers or youngsters to get
rapport one way or another. Not always; I lost
a few kids that didn't go right. But I could
tell you a lot of stories of kids . . . marvel
ous stories.
From Crescent City, young Mr. Hull moved on to Sebas
topol as high school principal and district superintend
ent, thence to Napa in like capacity, thence to a stint in
the office of the Superintendent of Public Instruction.
As the years passed into the 1920's, Hull harbored
an ambition to return to college teaching. He knew that
a successful and secure career in higher education neces
sitated the terminal degree. But absence from the class
room for nearly a decade had put him out of touch with the
rapid growth of knowledge in the physical sciences. More
over, his interests and experience were mainly in the
theory and practice of educational administration.
Hull hesitated awhile but was encouraged by the
444
professors at Berkeley who knew him as a district super
intendent and recognized his quality. Finally, in 1924,
he completed the Doctor of Philosophy in Education at
Berkeley. It was then that the opportunity to affiliate
with the University of Southern California presented it
self. His choice was not idly made, as he explained:
LWhen] this opening came up down here, those
people [at Berkeley] made this very significant
statement. If you go to any of the established
universities, you start in at the bottom. You
take,a long time to get up. If you want to go
down and help build what's going to be one of
the great universities, and start in on the
ground floor, go to SC. Von KleinSmid [is]
a comer.
I said, "I pioneered in Crescent City--
I've pioneered before. I'll go down and look
it over."
So I came down here in 1924 with that
point of view. You see, it was the teaching
angle that I wanted.
The rest, as they say, is history. Twenty-two years
and many classes, committees, seminars, and school surveys
later. Dr. Hull was appointed Dean of the School of Edu
cation of the University of Southern California.
Departmentalization
"Os" Hull was chosen to be Dean to counterbalance
the tensions of the times. The need for an executive was
445
clearly imperative, but the need was for a man who would
neither be a "boss" (to borrow a word from Dean Hull) nor
a contributor to conflict. Dean Hull was a man who by his
mere presence and demeanor could mollify ruffled tempers.
And he did just that under the tension-producing circum
stances of his era. As it turned out, despite his own
misgivings about the implications of the outcome to the
future of the School of Education, Dean Hull enabled it
to move from generalization to specialization; that is,
from a loose faculty structure with interlocking instruc
tional responsibilities to departmentalization. And he
did it partly by inadvertently acting as a buffer between
a still somewhat imperious University administration, in
the person mainly of Vice-President Raubenheimer, and a
spirited faculty.
The idea of departmentalization had earlier found
expression in other schools of education. By 1931, at
the College of Education of the University of Minnesota,
a departmental organization had been functioning for more
than ten years (Eurich, pp. 102-103). In 1927, Stanford
University had adopted a revised plan of organization for
its School of Education in four divisions, each of which
446
was to "have autonomous organization in matters of the
work it shall offer, divisional expenditures, and the
direction of students doing work with the Division"
(O'Leary, p. 317). And by 1934, Teachers College, Colum
bia University, found itself with "49 sharply demarcated
departments, resulting in unnecessary duplication," so
that its departments were soon thereafter reorganized
into five instructional divisions whose chairmen, augment
ed by elected divisional representatives, made up the
institution’s executive committee, but whose internal
structure as well as organizational interrelationships
were not further formalized (O'Leary, pp. 130-144).
At USC, departmentalization was to come to the School
of Education against informed opposition and after long
delay. Hindsight instructs that precursors of department
alization were present at the very inception of the new
division of the University in its Bulletin* s grouping of
related courses and in its professors' limitation of in
structional assignments to one or two course groupings,
according to the structure of the curriculum. Over the
years, categorization became more and more definitive as
veteran professors drifted toward specialization to meet
447
curricular needs or to satisfy their own emergent pro
clivities and as newcomers to the faculty were added be
cause they possessed specialized knowledge and skills.
Nevertheless, authentic systematization was not pre
sented to the faculty until 1938, when the Committee on
Curriculum and Schedules recommended the reorganization
of graduate work by major fields, the list of which could
easily have been interpreted as departments. Further com
mittee recommendations offered "criteria for conceptual
izing major field divisions, requiring that together they
provide "an organized picture of education," that each
represent "a functional whole," and that all "be coordin
ated and proper relationships between fields [be] brought
out.
Pursuant to the report's recommendations, the faculty
approved an organizational pattern for the curricula of
^For additional details of the abovementioned report
see the section headed "A Major Curricular Reorganization"
in Chapter VI. As to the committee's criteria, they im
plied simple solutions to extremely complex problems. To
the present moment, the wholeness of departments, their
coordination, and their proper relationships are still in
question and not clearly brought out. The very same mat
ters currently claim the study of the Faculty Council.
448
the School of Education, subsequently revised it, and saw
its inclusion in the Bulletin of 1939-1940 (XXXIV [May 1,
1939], pp. 74-92). But creation of the groups was not
alone to assure their systematic implementation. On March
12, 1940, speaking on behalf of the Committee on Curricu
lum and Schedule, Dr. Hull spelled out "the need for
action of the groups of the instructional staff primarily
responsible for each of the curriculum groups . . . in
preparing the outlines, et cetera, of the courses as re
quested on Jan. 23, 1940, and stated that much of the work
should be done by May 1" (Minutes, II : 313).
Dean Rogers could see that a deadline less than two
months hence would probably not be met unless responsibil
ity was assigned to one person in each group to expedite
the work to be done. Accordingly,
Dean Rogers appointed a chairman for each group
as follows, and suggested a report of progress
be given at the next meeting, March 26:
I. Introductory Sequence - Dr. Fay Adams.
II. Early Childhood and Elementary Educa
tion - Dr. Nila B. Smith.
III. Secondary Education - Dr. Wm. G.
Campbell.
IV. Supervision and Administration -
Dr. I. R. Melbo.
V, Adult and Higher Education - included
in other committees.
VI. Educational Psychology, Measurements
449
and Research, Counseling and Guidance -
Dr. L. P. Thorpe.
VII. History and Philosophy of Education -
Dr. M. M. Thompson.
VIII. Critiques of Research and Research
Seminar. (Committee on program and
requirements for the doctorate - Dr.
F. J. Weersing.)
(Minutes, II: 313).
Thus it may be that, inadvertently and against his
own judgment of its potential ills. Dean Rogers introduced
departmentalization (though not by that name) by assigning
responsibilities inherent in departments; viz., "groups of
the instructional staff primarily responsible for each of
the curriculum groups," each such staff cluster being
headed by a chairman.
For it should be recalled that Dean Rogers was out
spokenly opposed to departmentalization. Five years be
fore the incident recorded above, in 1935, in a memorandum
to President von KleinSmid, the Dean had been sharply
critical of the departmental structure at Teachers Col
lege and warned that cross-listing of professors with the
Department of Psychology might lead to such undesirable
alignments. (See "The School of Education Asserts Its
Autonomy," above in the present chapter.) And two years
after his unwitting abetment of the trend toward depart-
450
mentalization, when the President's select committee re
manded to him its endorsement of the faculty's "consensus"
in favor of departmentalization, the Dean effectively
pigeonholed the suggestion, (See "The President Interv-
venes" in Chapter VI.)
But, as Dean Rogers well knew, the national trend
toward specialization in higher education was under way
and would inexorably carve its course in the School of
Education. Partly, the trend nationally was due to "the
vast expansion of knowledge in modern times." Partly, it
was the result of "the increasing preoccupation of stu
dents with the utilitarian value of higher education"
(Brubacher and Rudy, p. 114).
At USC, the trend found expression in demands upon
the faculty of the School of Education to provide--besides
massive programs in regular and emergency teacher training
--integrated advanced curricula, horizontally, for admin
istrators, supervisors, counselors, psychologists, psy-
chometrists, and specialists in school finance, school
law, curriculum, and exceptionality and, vertically, ac
cording to whether the candidates worked in early child
hood, elementary, secondary, or higher education.
451
One concomitant of departmentalization which Dean
Rogers wished to prevent has been aptly set forth by
Brubacher and Rudy as follows;
Many of [the specialists on faculties J sought to
carve out a domain for their own fields whereby
they could offer the courses which were sine qua
non for them and concentrate on turning out more
specialists like themselves. . . . for many col
lege departments "protection" of their academic
interests came to be the central concern, Man-
euverings for departmental advantage took place
which could have done credit to lobbying groups
in Washington. There was even a struggle for
"high protection," namely, for including the de
partment's offerings on the list of required
subjects (p. 114),
Interestingly, even those who had had long experience
with departments held no brief for them. Teachers Col
lege's unfortunate experience in having to dissolve its
departmental structure has already been noted. More im
portantly, however, even Dean Haggerty of the College of
Education of the University of Minnesota, which had long
been departmentalized with moderate success, would not
endorse the technique for other institutions. Instead,
he wrote in 1922 (and held to the same position in 1931,
date of publication of his remarks);
These departments have developed as the college
has had to meet new demands. No defense is here
offered for this particular type of internal
452
organization. Obviously, the logical basis for
the departments is not the same throughout.
Some are determined by the kinds of knowledge
represented, others by the types of persons to
be trained. Equally cogent reasons can be
offered for other arrangements of courses and
personnel, and it is an open question whether the
professional interests of the college might not
be better served if these departmental lines were
all eliminated. The existence of the departments
however, gives assurance that the several phases
of specialized knowledge will be represented in
the college curricula. The chief danger is that,
in the effort to represent in its offerings a
comprehensive program of courses, the number and
divisions of offerings will exceed the genuine
needs of students. Highly organized departments
tend to become academic rather than professional
in character, to emphasize knowledge rather than
workers to be trained. (In Eurich, pp. 102-103.)
It is likely that the situation at USC paralleled
that at Minnesota. Without some kind of systematization
of School of Education curricula and of staff interrela
tionships which would enable clusters of professors with
common curricular competency and responsibility to work
cooperatively and be endowed with identity and some mea
sure of autonomy as a group, the likelihood was that the
faculty would falter in the face of the demands of public
school personnel for advanced specialized training.
In 1943, a special committee on the grouping of
courses was appointed in an attempt to confront the
453
problems of specialization. The committee found it dif
ficult to develop possible solutions to the problem with
out implying departmental structure. Speaking as chairman
of the committee and in its behalf, Dr. Hull explained to
the faculty
the reluctance of the Committee to set up formal
departments within the School and its decision
to recommend a type of instructional grouping
which would promote the development of courses
in the various fields by a particular committee
assigned to each field (Minutes, II [December
15, 1943], p. 371).
The committee's deliberations and subsequent recom
mendations led to the creation of "Instructional Groups,"
the listing of which first appeared officially in the
Builetin of 1944-46 (39, 7 [August 1944], pp. 75-81).
Under each Instructional Group were the numbers and
titles of the course over which the faculty members named
therewith had jurisdiction. The groups and their respect
ive chairman were as follows:
1. Introductory Sequence. Weersing. This was the
well-known basic sequence (g.v.).
2. Early Childhood. Nila Blanton Smith.
3. Elementary Education, Fay Adams.
4. Secondary Education, Adult and Higher Education.
454
Crawford.
5. School Organization and Administration. Hull.
6. History, Principles, and Philosophy of Education.
Thompson.
7. Educational Psychology, Counseling, and Adjust
ment. Thorpe.
8. Research, Statistics, and Measurements. Lefever.
9. Observation and Directed Teaching. Campbell.
10. Education in Special Fields.
(a) Art Education.
(b) Business Education. Blackstone.
(c) Music Education. Krone.
(d) Physical Education. LaPorte.
(e) Speech Education.
(f) Audio-Visual Education.
The instructional Groups functioned with only minor
changes for the next two years. In fact, on November 7,
1945, the faculty voted to continue the groups without
alteration in jurisdiction or constituency (Minutes, III:
429); and on March 26, 1946, the faculty confirmed their
continued existence by instructing the respective chairmen
to submit in writing course changes proposed for the new
455
Builetin (Minutes, III; 461), Suddenly, without prior
warning in the Minutes or any other document, the follow
ing startling entry appeared on July 30, 1946:
Professor Melbo reporting for the Administrative
Committee, presented a slate of departments and
Committee Chairmen for the coming school year.
The plan was adopted subject to review and re
vision (Minutes, III: 474).
Attached and immediately following in the collected
Minutes is a page dated July 1946 headed "SCHOOL OF
EDUCATION SUGGESTED DEPARTMENTS AND COMMITTEES." The
document reads as follows:
Departments responsible for Courses, Credential
Programs, and Student Advisement.
Teacher Education - Head of Department,
Dr. Perry, Professors Adams, Doane, La-
Grone, Wegener [and in pencil] & Basic
Seq.
Administration and Supervision - Dr. Melbo
Professors Gunn, LaFranchi
Curriculum and Instructional Services - Dr.
Weersing, Professors Adams, Crawford,
Doane
History and Philosophy - Dr. Thompson
Professors Hancey, Wegener
Psychology, Guidance, Research and Statistics -
Dr. Lefever, Professors LaGrone, Thorpe,
Wagner
Commercial Education - Dr. Blackstone
Dr. Henderson
Physical Education - Professor LaPorte
Professors Fredericks, Metheny.
(Minutes, III: 475).
456
By this time, Dr, Hull was Dean of the School of Edu
cation. On September 7, 1946, the first meeting of the
new semester and after the action of departmentalization--
an excellently attended Saturday breakfast meeting at
which President von KleinSmid and Miss Humrichouse were
guests--provided Dean Hull with the occasion to summarize
some of his perceptions of the state of the School of
Education.
First, he explained, "policies and programs [of
the School of Education] are determined by the faculty"
and "new developments or modifications may be initiated
by individuals on committees." Moreover, he said, "full
time professional service is required" if faculty are to
satisfy the "urge for personal professional development,"
realize the "opportunity for specialization," and fulfill
"the urge to be educated in fields in which we do not
specialize." And, he concluded, "guidance of students is
part of the full-time service" (Minutes, III: 476).
At the next faculty meeting less than three weeks
later. Dean Hull again picked up the theme of the state
of the School of Education. The situation, he observed,
had been unchanged by the startling July action; it had
457
"not fix[ed] action for the year, nor did it eliminate the
Instructional Groups," nor did departments or groups "con
fer authority on the heads, rather the responsibility of
the heads is for cooperation and for bringing men to
gether" (Minutes, III [September 25, 1946], p. 478),
But Hull was not Rogers, and the faculty immediately
challenged the new Dean, "Professor Thorpe asked how the
department heads were selected." To Dean Hull's reply
"that they were selected by the Administrative Committee
which was authorized by the faculty to appoint all com
mittees," Professor Thorpe shot back the suggestion that
"the heads should be elected by the persons in each group
or department,"
The faculty pressed forward in asserting its pre
rogatives. "Professor Adams suggested that there should
be a careful study of the whole problem of organization
of the School of Education." Upon Dean Hull's request
for proposals. Professor Adams quickly "moved that the
faculty elect a committee of four or five members to study
the problem." The motion was seconded by Professor
Lefever and carried. Thereupon, the faculty elected five
members "in order of the largest number of votes for each
458
. . . Adams and Lefever (tied), Melbo, Thorpe, and
Crawford."
In this fashion, the faculty took Dean Hull at his
word that "policies and programs are determined by the
faculty," first by taking him to task for an action that
suggested authoritarianism, then in pre-empting the
question of departmentalization by taking the matter of
the School of Education's organizational structure out
of his hands and placing it in those of a faculty-elected
committee.
A month later, on October 23, 1946, the Committee on
School of Education Reorganization submitted its report
to the faculty.
It dealt first with "Opportunities and Responsibil
ities of Staff Members," urging consistent effort to
equalize faculty opportunities, privileges, work and re
sponsibility with "minimal distinction based upon title,
rank, or seniority," and arguing for conditions which
would allow instructors "the freedom to grow profession
al ly and do creative work." Overridingly, the committee
urged that when problems related to "the welfare of the
individual professor" arose, consistent effort should be
459
exerted to consult that professor before crucial decisions
were made.
The committee then set forth its recommendations on
"Basic Organizational Structure," stressing the vesting of
power in the faculty via election of committees and other
options bearing on committee structure and action. In
this second section was entered the following terse and
unexpected sentence: "Departments and instructional
groups shall be abandoned."
In closing the report, the committee considered
"Voting in Faculty Meeting[sJ." This last section of the
report is further evidence of the style of the previous
administration, for the committee saw fit to spell out
explicit requirements of ample time for the discussion of
policy prior to a vote, the faculty's power to defer a
vote until the next meeting, the availability of a secret
ballot, and the conditions of eligibility to vote on mat
ters of policy. (The franchise was given to "any member
of the Faculty who has the rank of instructor or higher
in the School of Education, or who teaches more than one
course with an Education prefix.") (Minutes, III : 488.)
Thereafter, the Committee on Organization and
460
Personnel, Drs. Lefever, Melbo, and Thorpe, who had been
selected in compliance with the adopted recommendations of
the old committee on reorganization, itself undertook "to
classify the major functions of the School of Education as
a professional school and to determine the functions and
organizational set-up by which the functions will be
achieved" (Minutes, III [January 23, 1947], p. 509).
In a lengthy dittoed report, the Committee on Organ
ization and Personnel subsequently reaffirmed the group
ing technique but reduced the number to six "area groups"
(History and Philosophy of Education; Educational Psycho
logy, Research, Guidance; Curriculum and Methods in Ele
mentary, Secondary, and Adult Education, respectively;
Special Fields, now also inclusive of Industrial and of
Deaf Education; Teacher Training; and Administration-
Supervision), thereby tightening the group structure but
rejecting organization into departments.
The report further recommended a plan to assign
every course in the School of Education to one of the
area groups (the plan was part of the report) and proposed
that faculty members "be regarded as belonging to any area
in which they teach at least one course," In that way,
461
as professors would in most instances be affiliated with
more than one group, their status as individual professors
would not be subordinated to any group. This view of in
dividual professorial autonomy was further illustrated in
the committee's proposed organization chart, reproduced
below as Table 8, which placed individual professors
parallel to--and therefore equal to--area groups in hier
archical relationship to the Dean and University admin
istration. (Minutes, III [April 1947], pp. 546-549
passim.)
The committee had boldly essayed salient issues be
fore the School of Education which, in the era of Dean
Rogers, in all probability could not have been brought to
light officially. Under Dean Hull they may have been con
tentious, but they were rarely controversial. Dean Hull
had quietly succeeded in forestalling departmentalization
by implementing the committee's recommendations to provide
a pattern purportedly conducive concurrently to coopera
tion and professorial prerogatives. Moreover, the commit
tee had also recommended its own perpetuation via annual
elections to coordinate "over-all curriculum planning"
and generally to assist the Dean in administering faculty-
462
Table 8
ORGANIZATION CHART
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463
determined policy, thus further reassuring the faculty of
its status. That recommendation was likewise adopted.
At the time, the Bulletin of 1946-1948, still listing
the ten "Instructional Groups" (41, 6 [May 1946], pp. 80-
87), which would be superseded by the six "area groups"
of the newly adopted structure, continued to be in effect.
Therefore, the area group plan never had a chance to be
officially announced to the public, for the movement to
ward departmentalization had only been stalled for a few
months. On December 8, 1947, at the last faculty meeting
prior to the winter recess, unnamed faculty members moved
and seconded^ that
the School of Education move in the direction of
departmentalization by having each group that
wishes to become a department make application
to that effect to the Dean and the central com
mittee for approval. Any action taken by the
central committee to be submitted to the facul
ty for action.
The motion was carried (Minutes, IV: 619).
Q
Professor Blackstone, secretary of the faculty during
this period, chose to cloak makers and seconders of mo
tions in anonymity in his minutes. His reference to the
"central committee" was to the Committee on Organization
and Personnel, which came to be known by the other, short
er name.
464
By February 11, 1948, date of the first meeting of
the spring semester, nine groups had submitted their ap
plications, and the faculty quickly ratified their desig
nations as departments. As listed in the Minutes of that
date, the first nine departments were as follows;
Teacher Training (pre-service)
Audio Visual Education
Elementary Education
Secondary, Higher, and Adult Education
History and Philosophy of Education
Educational Administration and Supervision
Educational Psychology, Counseling, and
Measurements
Business Education
Physical Education.
A tenth department. Music Education, was authorized also,
pending receipt of its request to be so designated.
Upon this action. Dean Hull, for whom the development
was a disappointment, reminded the members of the new de
partments that it was their "responsibility for initiative
in seeing to it that the School of Education give the
instruction that it should" (Minutes, IV: 623).
Effects of Departmentalization
Thereupon was launched a departmental system that
would undergo both major and minor changes in the years
to come and bring new problems--some being of the type
465
alluded to by Brubacher and Rudy and Haggerty, cited above
--as well as distinction to the School of Education. The
first publication of the new structure appeared in the
Bulletin of 1948-1950 in a precise listing by departments
of course offerings and affiliated professors. No chair
men had been designated. The eleven departments and their
first professors of record were as follows: Educational
Administration and Supervision: Hull, Melbo, LaFranchi,
Nelson, Sexson; Audio-Visual Education: Doane, Perry;
Business Education: Blackstone, Henderson; Educational
Psychology, Measurement, Guidance, and Research: Lefever,
Thorpe, Meyers, Perry, Wagner; Elementary and Early Child
hood Education: Adams, Perry, Estvan, Cox, Noblitt;
History and Philosophy of Education: Chen, Hancey,
Thompson, Wegener; Music Education: Krone, Bryan, Rush;
Physical Education and Health: Davis, LaPorte, Metheny,
Cooper, Ellfeldt, Fredericks, Smith, Smalley; Secondary,
Higher, and Adult Education: Crawford, Weersing; Indus
trial Arts Education; and last, Teacher Training: Adams,
Blackstone, Davis, Weersing, Cannon, Doane, Fredericks,
Meyers, Perry, Wegener, Bryan, Estvan, Rush, Heller,
Smalley, Moore, Noblitt, Wedberg, and the coordinators
466
(£.v.), Fleischer, Gardner, Hood, Kinsman, Morris, and
Richardson (43, 7 [August 1948], pp. 50-76 passim).
The precision with which the sequences were assembled
was a tribute to the faculty's conscientiousness. Never
theless, the painstaking deliberations over course de
scriptions and titles and about the dangers of overlapping
and lack of clarity, which are reflected in the collected
Minutes and in the final product in the Bulletin, may have
been intensified by a cutting criticism of the School of
Education originating in the University Committee on Cur
ricula and Courses. Speaking as a member of that commit
tee, Professor Doane (the School of Education's first real
specialist in audio-visual education) reported to the
faculty that the committee's members were
critical of seeming overlapping of courses in
the School of Education, as well as seeming
lack of planning. Students have difficulty in
knowing what they should take. Administrative
officers report receiving a good many complaints.
They think there is a lack of over-all planning
and that a réévaluation seems to be needed.
In defense of the School of Education, the Director
of Teacher Education (unnamed in the minutes, but it was
Dr. Raymond Perry) spoke of the careful planning and
specificity of the programs and sequences in the bulletin
467
being prepared (Minutes, IV [April 19, 1948], p. 653).
But there was some basis for the criticism of the
guidance offered students of the School of Education, and
the comments conveyed by Professor Doane as well as con
cern among the other professors of the School of Education
led to study of the problem and development of materials
and methods for improving service to the students.^
As early as 1933, Dean Rogers "mentioned . . . the
desirability of . . . show[ing] special interest in main
taining and keeping alive the sympathetic understanding,
cooperation, and helpfulness with students, for which the
School of Education is more or less recognized" (Minutes,
II [September 29, 1933], p. 209). In 1942, the President
approved Dr. Lefever*s being "relieved of some of his work
in order to devote considerable time to counselling stud
ents on credential problems" (II [September 12, 1942], p.
355). Early in 1947, an elaborate "suggested Guidance
Organization for Students Interested in Teaching as a
Career" was developed by a committee of the Council on
Teacher Education of which Professors Adams and Wagner and
Miss Weir were members (III: 511-512), and a "Proposed
Program of Advisory Services to Students Enrolled in the
School of Education" consisting of a detailed plan and two
tables of organization showing lines of professorial re
sponsibility for advisement and channels for petitions in
special situations were submitted to the faculty for ap
proval (III: 519-525). Later the same year. Professor
Crawford presented "Some Thoughts Regarding the Improve
ment of Student Program Planning" in dittoed form (III
[October 20, 1947], p. 575 and reverse). In another vein,
Dr. Cannon objected in 1953 to the use of students as
"guinea pigs" in research studies (IV [January 5, 1953],
p. 806). And interspersed among the collected Minutes
468
In this connection, in fact, an influential view of
the function of the departments was held by Dr. Rauben-
heimer who contended that "the School of Education has
not been departmentalized for administrative purposes--
only for purposes of student guidance" (Minutes, IV:
695 insert).
This note regarding Dr. Raubenheimer leads logically
into a significant sidelight to the present discussion of
the effects of departmentalization. Like Dean Rogers and
Dean Hull, Dean Raubenheimer opposed departmentalization.
Unlike them, however, his principal allegiance was not to
the School of Education or to the College of Letters,
Arts, and Sciences (to which he owed his deanship), but
to the University as a whole. Therefore, from his aloof
position, first, as Director of the Educational Program
of the University, then as Educational Vice-President, he
could scrutinize the departments of the School of Educa
tion.
Primarily, he attempted by interpretation and inter-
are sections devoted to advisement forms for students in
many phases of the curricula of the School of Education.
469
position to truncate their scope. Upon their first being
voted into existence, Dr. Raubenheimer opened'his campaign
against the departments by writing in the margin of the
Minutes that they were to exist "Not as budgetary units."
Later, he accentuated exclusion of possible budgetary
identity by stipulating in ink in the Minutes that the
departments existed "for instructional purposes only" (IV
[July 25, 1949], p. 711) and not budgetary. The ascrip
tion of existence for student guidance only came when Dean
Hull acted to provide officially selected chairmen for
the year-old departments.
The faculty had been pushing for a say in the selec-
tion of department chairmen ever since Professor Thorpe
had challenged the method of their choice for the short
lived experiment of 1946. Although no chairmen had been
officially designated for the departments created in 1948
in time for the Bulletin of 1948-1950, they had in fact
been informally selected and were functioning unofficial
ly. The question remained as to what sort of a statement
of policy would be forthcoming and what selection proced
ure would be settled on.
On July 30, 1949, Dean Hull addressed a memorandum
470
to the faculty explaining the new procedure for selecting
and appointing department chairmen, setting forth the
rationale for the method and duration of tenure and an
nouncing the chairmen for 1949-1950. He began by explain
ing that departmentalization had provided a structure
whereby members of the faculty whose major interests
identified with a particular department could work to
gether "under one of their number as chairman." Further
more, the policy would be
to rotate these chairmanships after a service
of two or three years in order that the re
sponsibilities of the chairmanship be shared,
and to provide opportunity for special initia
tive on the part of individual members. In
this connection, it is understood as a matter
of policy that the chairman serves not as an
executive officer, but as chairman of the
faculty group.
Having defined the democratic character of the chair
manship as that of a leader among equals, he went on to
describe the method of selection.
The chairmen for the next year have been chosen
on the basis of nominations by the faculty groups
and by action of the central committee and the
dean.
Then he announced the first official list of depart
ment chairmen for the School of Education.
471
Administration and Supervision . . . Dr. Nelson
Audio-Visual Education .............. Dr. Doane
Business Education ................... Dr. Henderson
Educational Psychology, Guidance
and Measurement ................ Dr. Lefever
Elementary Education ................ Dr. Perry
History and Philosophy .............. Dr. Wegener
Music Education..................... Prof. Rush
Physical Education ................... Prof. LaPorte
Secondary, Higher and Adult
Education ........................ Dr. Weersing
Teacher Training ..................... Dr. Cannon
In closing. Dean Hull announced, first, the School
of Education's representatives to the University Senate
for the coming year, and then the members of the central
committee: "Professors Melbo, Blackstone (Thorpe during
Dr. Blackstone's leave the first semester) and Dr.
Lefever" (Minutes, IV: 712).
Of all the actions related to departmentalization,
the above-quoted memorandum elicited from Vice President
Raubenheimer his tersest expressions of indignation. The
School of Education's appointment of the department chair
men solely by the faculty, the central committee, and the
Dean, with no prior notice to the University administra
tion and with apparent anticipation of its tacit approval,
he deemed an incursion upon presidential prerogatives.
"Appointment of 'Heads of Depts,'" he wrote to Dean Hull
472
laconically, "is a function of the President."
Moreover, despite Dean Hull's charge to the faculty
chairmen (and implied assurance to the University admin
istration) that they each would serve "not as an executive
officer, but as chairman of a faculty group," Dr. Rauben
heimer viewed the new functionaries as the nucleus of a
group of quasi-administrators who could conceivably exer
cise considerable administrative leverage within the
School of Education and ultimately maneuver the School of
Education into a position of such autonomy within the
University that it could restrict and possibly damage the
University's central administrative control. Hence his
further written comment to Dean Hull that "the School of
Education has not been departmentalized for administrative
purposes" sought to define the delimitations of depart
mental functions by excluding the chairmen from adminis
trative processes.
More efforts than Dr. Raubenheimer's contributed to
the fact that the departments, as departments, did not
totally dominate School of Education policy in the years
delimiting the present study. One important factor was
Dean Hull's consistent reliance upon the committees--
473
particularly upon the central committee--in administrative
matters and policy making. All the departments were
represented on the committees, sometimes proportionately,
sometimes randomly, and by chance if not equitably, then
to the satisfaction of the faculty. Furthermore, demo
cratic processes prevailed in decision-making as committee
recommendations invariably went before the entire faculty
for final decisions. The constant personal interaction of
faculty members and their free access to each others'
ideas resisted departmental tendencies to coalesce into
voting blocs on matters of policy.
To illustrate the point, on December 3, 1951, the
faculty considered a "proposed course in Moral and Spirit
ual Values in Secondary Education" to be given by the De
partment of Secondary Education "in cooperation with the
Danforth Foundation during the 1952 Summer Session" (Min
utes , IV: 787). Fortunately, discussion of the course,
which crossed departmental lines indiscriminately, is pre
served in the Minutes. Dr. Finn (Audio-Visual) "opposed
the whole idea." Dr. LaFranchi (Administration) "stressed
that we must watch overlapping." Dean Hull (Administra
tion) pointed out "that no one can write the course; that
it should be under the supervision of two or three profes
sors." Dr. Olson (Secondary) recommended the course. Dr.
Weersing (Secondary) moved and Meyers (Psychology) second
ed that a committee be formed to formulate the course in
cooperation with the School of Religion and the Founda
tion. Dr. Thorpe (Psychology) suggested a change in
course name. Dr. Melbo (Administration) offered a substi-
474
Another factor that operated to circumscribe depart
mental influence was the rotation of the chairmanships
within the respective departments. From 1949 to 1953,
four of the ten departments retained the same chairmen;
five made one change; and one, History and Philosophy,
made two changes, one necessitated when Professor Wegener
relocated to the University of Texas in 1951 (Minutes, IV
[September 15, 1951] p. 775). Despite the relative stab
ility, the possibility of rotation and the philosophy be
hind it disallowed domination of a department by a single
personality possessing dynastic ambitions and a narrow
view of policy.
To the consternation of Dean Hull, within the Univer
sity administration, previously unqualified opposition to
the departments weakened perceptibly as the departmental
identities of individual professors brought prestige and
enrollment to the University, Public school specialists
were gravitating toward USC because of the names of
Nelson, Melbo, and LaFranchi in administration; Lefever
tute motion to refer the course to the central committee
"with the power to take action." The motion carried
(Minutes, IV: 788),
475
and Thorpe in psychology (the latter author of numerous
popular and excellent books in educational psychology;
see bibliography); Wagner in guidance; Naslund in element
ary; and Finn in audio-visual, to mention just a few.
The professors were building national reputations in
their own right as scholars and innovators and on the
strength of their doctoral graduates' and their other
students' becoming leaders in public education and profes
sors in colleges of education and, thereby and by word of
mouth, spreading the reputation of the School of Education
for excellence in the several specializations. (See in
this connection Servin and Wilson, pp. 215-222.) Equal
prestige accrued to the Department of Teacher Training as
use's graduating teachers proved their mettle in the
classrooms throughout the nation, but especially in South
ern California, and the name of Dr. Cannon increased in
reputation and drawing power,
^^One development attests especially to the esteem in
which the School of Education has been held in American
higher education circles. In 1953 the Ford Foundation's
Fund for the Advancement of Education agreed "tj support
an experimental program to prepare selected college gradu
ates for teaching in the public elementary schools of
California. Between 1954 and 1958, the project provided
476
Dean Hull was at once proud and perturbed by these
developments. He understood the needs of the School of
Education clearly--or so he thought--and they were not
necessarily compatible with the growth of the departments.
In 1949, he contributed a chapter to the President's
Report; Academic Year 1948-1949 in which he enumerated
the achievements and the needs of the School of Education
as he saw them.
The achievements he set forth frankly as conducive to
the growth of departments; the Department of Administra
tion and Supervision, he reported, had had "the largest
enrollment in its history." Elementary Education was
training more elementary school teachers than any insti
tution in the state, and the University led the state in
credential recommendations. The Department of Secondary,
Adult, and Higher Education had several hundred teachers
in the "curriculum laboratory course" (one of Professor
"the Southern California community over 300 new teachers
recruited from a source that otherwise might have remained
untapped." The five year program is fully described and
analyzed in the monograph by Meyers, Cannon, and Lefever
entitled The Recruitment and Training of Teacher Interns
(1960).
477
Crawford's "how-to" undertakings) and "practicums in
secondary education" and were producing numerous course
outlines and other useful curriculum materials in second
ary education.
But when he came to the needs of the School of Edu
cation, Dean Hull made no mention of the departments.
Needed, he said, were a "curriculum laboratory for student
teachers, their supervising teachers, and teachers in-
service, where they may study and work"; "guidance clinic
experience for teachers who are being prepared for coun
seling"; a "campus laboratory school . . . for purposes
of child study, demonstration, and observation"; office
space and housing in a proper building ; and improved
salaries (pp. 62-67 passim).
As implied by his omissions and corroborated by Pro
fessor Weersing's judgment. Dean Hull believed that the
departments stood in the way of improved conditions for
his staff; in his view, the School of Education could not
simultaneously meet the needs he had articulated in the
President's Report and "promote the departments"
(Weersing, 1969).
Subsequent history, outside the scope of the present
478
study, suggests that Dean Hull's assessment of the incom
patibility of departmental enhancement and staff welfare
was not entirely accurate. Departmentalization, while it
has loomed large during Dean Hull's era and since, has
only peripherally touched such personnel matters as sal
ary, tenure, and teaching load. Policies developed for
the University as a whole--as in the aftermath of the
"revolt of 1946"--have been predominant in affairs affect
ing staff welfare. For the plain fact is that, notwith
standing Dean Hull's publicly expressed antipathy toward
departmentalization, the trend continued under his admin
istration; and it is questionable whether personnel condi
tions would have been better had it not done so.
A sign of the trend was the Bulletin Committee's
recommendation on February 8, 1950, presaging developments
postdating the present study, "[tjhat the courses in Guid
ance be listed separately from those in Educational Psy
chology, Measurement and Research" (Minutes, IV: 734)
while the groups continued officially as a single depart
ment. Consequently, by February 1, 1952, date of the
1952-1954 School of Education Bulletin, last to be pro
duced under Dean Hull's aegis, the following sensibly
479
shortened departmental headings had been approved for
publication: Administration and Supervision (Head:
LaFranchi); Audio-Visual (Finn); Business Education (Hen
derson); Elementary (Perry); Guidance (Wagner); History
and Philosophy (Thompson); Industrial Arts ; Music Educa
tion (Rush); Physical Education and Health (LaPorte);
Psychology (Wagner, indicating the departmental unity of
guidance and psychology); Secondary and Higher (Weersing);
and Teacher Training (Cannon).
Dean Hull Returns to Teaching
Personal circumstances were to force Dean Hull to
leave the attempted resolution of the problems of the
departments to another man. The Dean was scheduled to
retire in 1955. But he had had a heart attack, and "his
doctors advised him against serving two more years as
Dean" (Faculty News, 5, 1 [December 15, 1952], p. 1).
1 ?
When departmentalization was instituted, the Depart
ment of Teacher Training was characterized as "pre
service." Its only courses besides the "basic sequence"
(£.V.) were in methods of teaching. Its sole function was
credential preparation. It offered no advanced degrees,
nor could it be elected as a supplementary field by a
doctoral candidate. The faculty looked upon it solely as
a service department, subordinate to all the others.
480
Consequently, in November 1952, he requested that "he be
relieved of his responsibilities as Dean and return to
full-time teaching September 1, 1953" (Minutes, IV
[November 3, 1952], p. 803).
The progress of the School of Education under his
administration had been substantial, and the successes
are easy to identify among the numbers and quality of
graduates and in the excellence of the faculty that he had
helped to gather around him in the School of Education.
In fact, besides his awareness and pride in the achieve
ment of School of Education products, of those whom he
had recruited to the faculty--Brackenbury, Cannon, Carnes,
and Naslund, to name only four of the many whom he brought
to USC--he spoke with great admiration and much satis
faction (Hull, 1968).
But the consensus of those who knew him and could
take some measure of his contribution to the School of
Education is that far overshadowing his excellence as a
professor of educational administration, his expertise in
school surveys, and his ability as an administrator were
his qualities as a man of humane sensibilities and gentle
ness. In bringing those qualities to bear upon his col
481
leagues, his students, and his friends in the public
schools and the University, he endowed all whom he touched
with a warmth and considerateness that transmitted them
selves to other aspects of their professional and personal
lives. The interviews obtained for the present study
were replete with such observations and reminiscences.
Said Dr. Weersing, for example:
Dr. Hull was a great humanist. He believed in
people, he loved people, he worked for people.
. . . He was kind to people because they were
people, not because he had a philosophy of
kindness.
Other interviews could be similarly excerpted. But
circumstances have provided a statement that makes all
others superfluous here. Sad to relate, only weeks after
his interview for the present study. Dean Hull died sud
denly and unexpectedly on September 3, 1968, at the age of
seventy-eight. The family asked Dr. Cannon to represent
his colleagues in brief remarks made as part of the
funeral service. Dr. Cannon agreed and has kindly pro
vided a transcript of his words. Frankly a eulogy, they
convey Dean Hull's story so accurately, poignantly, rev
erently, and relevantly that they are excerpted below to
the extent that they are germane to the present history.
482
It is interesting that Dean Hull had visited with Dr.
Cannon within days of having been interviewed by the pres
ent writer, for he chose to chat with Dr. Cannon about
professional matters--perhaps his recollections had been
stimulated by the interview--in a way closely resembling
his manner during the interview. Dean Hull reminisced,
said Dr. Cannon,
happy that he had spent his life as a teacher,
administrator, then Professor and Dean in a
School of Education, especially happy that it
was use's School of Education; proud of the men
with whom he had worked; proud of the Los An
geles schools he had once helped by recommend
ing administrative procedures to match the Dis
trict's size and complexity; proud of the schools
and colleges of California and of USC's role in
preparing their teachers and administrators;
proud of the School of Education's continuing pro
gress made since he had retired.
On that day Osman Hull was in a company and
climate where any element of bitterness or regret
could have been expressed and would have been
treated as strictly a "within-the-family" matter.
But whatever negative elements there were . . .
were of so minor importance they were completely
lost in a veritable flood of pleasant memories.
Those faculty members at the University who
have worked with him would rate Dean Hull as in
deed a great administrator, teacher, colleague,
and friend. I have known many administrators,
but no other whom no one wished to have replaced;
many teachers, but few whom all students remember
with both professional admiration and personal
pleasure...............................................
483
Without a doubt, the keystone element in all
these superb human relationships was Osman Hull's
stature as a man. While he adhered to standards
of personal conduct difficult for most of us to
achieve, he found so much good in the worst of us
that affection for him was the automatic response
of student, staff, or fellow-professor. He tend
ed to minimize our faults and build on our minor
successes, de-emphasize our frustrations and sug
gest ways out of whatever difficulty..............
To honor him, we need not promise to remember
him, since he has left an indelible impression
upon us all. Perhaps a more appropriate promise
is to declare our continuing allegiance to the
kind of life he lived, whether or not we can in
truth achieve it, and to pledge ourselves to con
tinue as effectively as possible the task he be
lieved to be so critically important.
A New Dean Is Named
Upon the Dean's tender of resignation from the post
of chief administrative officer of the School of Educa
tion, President Fagg "requested the Faculty Committee on
Personnel and Curriculum in conference with Dr. C. C.
Trillingham [the superintendent of Los Angeles County
Schools, who had intervened years earlier in urging ap
pointment of a dean for the School of Education] to confer
with him on the appointment of a successor to Dean Hull"
(Minutes, IV [November 3, 1952], p. 803). The faculty was
invited to make suggestions. From a practical standpoint.
484
the task of assisting the President devolved upon a com
mittee of four senior professors of the School of Educa
tion; Professors Wendell E. Cannon, Louis P. Thorpe,
Elmer E. Wagner (then Assistant Dean), and D, Lloyd Nel
son. The committee's recommendation, accepted and con
firmed by the University administration, was to name
Irving Robert Melbo, Professor of Educational Administra
tion, Dean of the School of Education effective with the
academic year 1953-1954 (Faculty News, 5, 1 [December 15,
1952], p. 1; Minutes, October 5, 1953, p. 6).
Irving Robert Melbo
Born in Gully, Minnesota, on June 20, 1908, Irving
Robert Melbo traveled a not unusual route for the times
from the rural public schools of Minnesota to the deanship
of the School of Education of the University of Southern
California, Even before earning the Bachelor of Ai'ts de
gree from New Mexico State Teachers College in 1930, he
had been a Minnesota public elementary school teacher and
principal. After working his way through the teachers
college as research assistant to the college president,
he stayed on for three years after graduation as social
485
science instructor and supervisor of student teachers un
til 1933, earning the Master of Arts degree in 1932.
Thereupon, he began doctoral study at the University
of California at Berkeley and, in short order, earned the
Doctor of Education degree in 1934. Armed with the doc
torate, Dr. Melbo became a staff member in the Division of
Textbooks and Publications of the California State Depart
ment of Education. A year later, in 1935, he took the
opportunity to return to the public schools in an admin
istrative capacity and accepted appointment as Director
of the Research and Curriculum Department of the Oakland
public schools. His three years there revealed to others
his ability in the profession; when an opening as deputy
superintendent in charge of curriculum occurred in the
Alameda County schools, he was offered the position and
accepted it.
Having thus acquired a well-rounded experience as a
public school teacher and principal, state and local
school district administrator, and college instructor and
supervisor of directed teaching, he was ready both pro
fessionally and by reason of interest for a professorship
in a school of education. When in 1939, Dean Rogers re
486
cruited him for the position of Assistant Professor of
Education at USC, he accepted the Dean's offer and joined
its faculty.
Over the years of his professorship. Dr. Melbo pro
gressed at a normal pace through the academic ranks from
assistant to full professor, the last rank effective with
the Bulletin of 1948-1950 (43, 7 [August 1948], p. 10).
Besides the many school surveys which he has authored
and co-authored. Dean Melbo had been a prolific writer
both in education and in an avocational field that has
held his interest for many years. In education, counted
among his major publications written during the period of
the present history is The Social Psychology of Education
(1937). His other interest, in the natural beauty of
America, has produced Our America (revised edition 1948)
and the popular Our Country's National Parks (in two
volumes, 1941 et seq.).
The story of Dean Melbo's administration, which has
continued uninterrupted from 1953 to the present day, must
be the province of another historian. For the present
historical study, its temporal delimitation and the scope
of its treatment both demand that leave now be taken of
487
the actions, circumstances, and events in the history of
the School of Education.
488
CHAPTER VIII
REFLECTIONS ON THE HISTORY OF THE
SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
The Search for a Philosophic Framework
At one point in Chapter VI the writer digressed in
a footnote (Footnote 5) to come to the defense of the
School of Education against what seemed to be an unwar
ranted innuendo apropos of the teacher training coordin-
atorship. The defense took the form of a prediction re
garding a possible theme for the present study. The
relevant comment reads as follows:
If a theme emerges from the present study, it
will derive from a position on the part of its
subject which unequivocally contradicts the
assertions of . . . [a report stating that
"the welfare of public schools may tend to be
overlooked" by teacher training institutions].
It becomes increasingly apparent that the
School of Education has consistently been
characterized by a sustaining sense of its
service and its subservience to the welfare
of the public schools.
As one examines the primary documentary sources; the
words of those who were parties to the history, uttered
489
or set down when the history was being made or in retro
spection, and the writings of scholars in public and
higher education and in educational history, one does
indeed look searchingly for trends on which to base con
structs capable of imbuing the study with meanings that
transcend the details of the history.
When he composed his own narrative (Thompson, n.d.),
Merritt Thompson, perennial student and teacher of edu
cational philosophy, likewise sought a philosophic frame
work for the history of the School of Education. He ad
mitted, however, that he had been largely unsuccessful.
A weakness in my own apprehension of the history
as I thought it over was that the School of Edu
cation never took a position on the current prob
lems of education. . . . Dr. Flewelling [Profes
sor of Philosophy in the College of Letters, Arts,
and Sciences] once asked me, "What is the posi
tion of the School of Education on, let us say,
progressive education?"
"Well," I said, "there isn't any school of
education in the sense of your question. There
isn't any official point of view in education or
any doctrine of education which is held by the
School of Education."
[0]n one or two occasions. Dean Rogers at
tempted somewhat to formulate a theoretical bas
is, but it was very limited. And there never
was formulated any official philosophy for the
School of Education.
I taught two summers at the University of
British Columbia [and] I said to the dean there,
"Do you have any particular point of view?"
490
He said, "No, we pick the best men we can
find and then we turn them loose."
Well, that's been the custom in our School
of Education. Our staff has been made up of
very competent people who were very carefully
chosen, and then they were never limited to a
particular point of view or any official dic
tation. It just didn't exist. And so it's
very difficult to say what the School of Educa
tion does stand for or did stand for ....
However, just intuitively, I would say that the
pragmatic philosophy of John Dewey, with a large
measure of personal idealism, really dominated
the thinking of practically all of our staff
(Thompson, 1968).
Like Dr. Thompson, Dr. Weersing also sought to under
stand the philosophic framework of the history of the
School of Education. His perception differed, however,
in that he took the School of Education when and where it
was, in the setting of its time and place. Therefore, he
said,
educational philosophy is such a comprehensive
thing that it necessarily has to take in one's
social philosophy, political philosophy, even
his religious philosophy. And that is such a
highly individual thing that in education just
as in all major fields it depends on the indi
vidual professor's background, his experience,
hiw own outlook upon life and all of those
things. Any institution would find it very hard
and probably even disadvantageous or wrong--evil
--to have an institutional point of view or phil
osophy that everybody must conform to. . .
(Weersing, 1969).
491
Nonetheless, continued Dr. Weersing, if a unifying
philosophy must be found, it should derive from the fact
that the professors of the School of Education were of the
conviction that teaching was a "calling." Furthermore, by
logical extension, "any judgment of the level of teaching
at use [the concrete expression of the abstract philo
sophy] should certainly not overlook the places . . . [ its
graduates] achieved in the community [and] the services
they were able to render. And those people speak very
frankly and sincerely of the inspiration they got at USC."
The conception of teaching as a calling--that is, as
a high service to one's fellow man and one's community--
Dr. Weersing related to the Methodist heritage of the
University. "Keep in mind," he counseled, "that USC in
1928 was more than half staffed by . . . children of the
Methodist church . , . and that atmosphere pervaded the
whole institution. They were excellent people. They were
people with vision--people who sacrificed a great deal to
make the service they were making to the University and
the student body and to the state and the country."
When Dean Hull in his turn tried to formulate a
statement of the philosophy of the School of Education,
492
he too was uncertain. First he approached the question
through the concrete forms the philosophy had assumed.
He related anecdotes--too numerous and too lengthy to
quote here--which, taken together, told a story of service
to school districts, of working relationships with profes
sional organizations such as the California Association
of School Administrators, and of consideration for indivi
duals, whether they were students, faculty or public
school personnel.
Finally, "cornered" by a direct question, he replied,
"I think our philosophy was involvement--picking up that
term--in the concerns of the school people of this area."
Never content to deal in abstractions, he concretized his
generalization by recalling that students of his who had
come to the School of Education from distant places dis
pelled his perplexity over why they had done so in terms
similar to his own; "'Because,'" he quoted them, "'of
your concern four our problems. You help us to get our
goals. You're not up there to chop us off just because
you want to have only so many left.'"
This thought led Dean Hull to make the connection
between the philosophy that it connoted and scholarly pro
493
duction by graduates of the School of Education, and he
cited "some of the marvelous dissertations that have come
out of that approach" (Hull, 1968).
Was this philosophy of service exclusive to the
School of Education of the University of Southern Cali
fornia in the history of American education? Not accord
ing to Teachers College's distinguished elder historian
of American higher education, I.M. Kandel. The attitude,
he wrote in 1959, was characteristic of such institutions,
which commonly held to
the principle that public institutions must
serve the public, and even private institu
tions tend to regard themselves as performing
services to the public. One can put this down
to a somewhat literal interpretation of A. N.
Whitehead's remark that "celibacy does not suit
a university." (In Bereday and Lauwerys, 1959,
p. 109).
One need not be swayed by Professor Kandel's tone in
extracting the fact which he deprecatingly describes. Even
had he been correct about the prevalence as well as the
source, his disapproval was at least partly misdirected.
Whatever the truth of the matter, the evidence is over
whelming that the philosophy of service in all its mani
festations; interest, concern, accessibility, helpfulness.
494
and scholarly application--that blend of pragmatism and
personal idealism mentioned by Dr. Thompson--reached pro
portions at the USC School of Education far exceeding its
development in most comparable institutions elsewhere in
the United States.
Three Pervasive Symbiotic Themes
Three other themes run through the events in the
history of the School of Education. All are symbiotic
with the philosophy that has energized its curricular pro
grams; all are consequences of the unfettered advancement
of an institution of higher education in a democratic
society during an era conducive to such advancement.
The first theme is closely allied to the consistent
eclecticism that has already been noted. It is evident
that no single educational philosopher has ever commanded
the undivided allegiance of the professors of the School
of Education by the power of his persuasions. From the
beginning, professors differed--as was their wont in an
atmosphere of academic freedom--or agreed on the theory
and practice of education. Thus, a concomitant of eclect
icism, and the evidence for the first of the three pervas
495
ive themes, is the readiness with which the faculty grav
itated toward specialization. To make the point regarding
symbiosis, it was simply not viable simultaneously to
serve the needs of public education in a period marked by
exploding knowledge, exploding population, burgeoning
school systems, and differentiated staffing; to be eclec
tic; and to withstand the pressures for specialization.
The School of Education's ability and freedom to special
ize has made its growth and expansion possible both in
the years prior to 1953 and since the temporary decline
associated with that cutoff date.
The second of the three themes is democratization.
Dr. Weersing was right--the institution must be viewed
within the context of the epoch of its existence. As the
demand for the fuller realization of democracy was abroad
in the land, so it was in the University and within the
School of Education. It was therefore not merely fortu
itous that both President Fagg and Dean Hull were men of
their times. Both could and did live with freedom of
expression and democratic processes because each accepted
the tenets of democracy in practice as well as in theory.
(See Servin and Wilson, pp. 192-208 for an appraisal of
496
President Fagg's administrative style and achievements.)
Had the faculty been denied the freedoms inherent in a
democratic institution, the School of Education could not
have specialized, could not have departmentalized, and
therefore could not have been of service in the way and
to the extent that it was, responsive to the needs which
it so clearly perceived.
The third and final theme is that of the School of
Education's institutional autonomy (and accompanying pride
of identity). This state of autonomy has been tested and
tempered both in the School of Education's service rela
tionships with public educational agencies and in its
status as a constituent of the University.
In the first instance, an earlier contention herein
has been that the School of Education has possessed a
sense of its subservience to the welfare of the public
schools--and not, by implication, to the legislative,
administrative, or instructional complexes which author
ize, supervise, or operate them. The School of Education
has served, not as an obsequious supplicant to be dictated
to or compelled to serve by reason of its subservience,
but as an autonomous institution whose service has freely,
497
objectively, and disinterestedly been offered in accord
ance with its informed estimate of need and of how its
personnel and facilities might best meet that need.
In the second instance, the heart of the matter has
been--to carry the metaphor of symbiosis to its conclusion
--that had the School of Education been deprived of the
sort of freedom which autonomy nurtured: the freedom to
be eclectic; to specialize; to departmentalize; to be
democratic ; to be of service; always to be engaged in the
process of self-examination and self-criticism with the
goal of improving programs, staff, and service; and freely
to accept a degree of control by the University as reason
ably conceived and imposed and legally constituted, the
result probably would have been the reduction of the
School of Education to a bitterly or resignedly servile
nucleus of disillusioned "educationists."
Thus it was that, by virtue of the themes that shaped
its history, by 1953 the School of Education of the Uni
versity of Southern California had become the proud,
potent, and excellent institution of its national reputa
tion, confronted, to be sure, with the problems of the
times but capable of coping with them, and was ready for
498
the era of a new dean, for a new breed of students, for
the new role of higher education, and for the new dilemmas
which were soon to challenge American higher education.
S E L E C T E D
B I B L I O G R A P H Y
499
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LEVITT, Leon, 1923-
A HISTORY TO 1953 OF THE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA.
University of Southern California, Ed.D., 1970
Education, history
University Microfilms, A XEROX Company, Ann Arbor, Michigan
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LEON LEVITT
1970

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Core Title A history to 1953 of the School of Education of the University of Southern California

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Degree Conferral Date 1970-06

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