My experience in collecting material for this book brought out the academic situation with startling vividness. To begin with, I had the idea that if you wanted information on any subject you had merely to write to the people who had it. I collected from various sources the names of one or two hundred college professors who were supposed to be sympathetic towards social progress, and I printed a little circular outlining my proposed book, and asking them to tell me their experiences and conclusions. I mailed these circulars, and waited for replies; I waited two or three months, and the number of replies I received could be counted upon the fingers of one hand!
Of course, that might be because all these professors were satisfied with their position, and had no information to give. But I doubted that, and decided to travel over the country and talk personally with these individuals. I laid out a schedule and wrote again to arrange for interviews. Taught by experience, I explained that everything would be strictly confidential; but even on this basis I failed to hear from two-thirds of the men to whom I wrote. In various ways, through friends or colleagues, I would learn that this one or that one had thought it best to be able to say that he had never met me!
Still further insight came to me on the trip. I visited some thirty institutions, and met men and women who had taught in two or three hundred. Out of all these I should estimate that ninety-five per cent accepted my offer to consider what they told me confidential, and some even accepted my offer not to mention to their colleagues that they had talked with me. I would not need but one or two fingers to count the number of men and women now teaching in American colleges and universities who told me their experiences frankly, and stated that I might quote them by name.
Still further evidence: I came home after my seven thousand-mile journey, and sorted out my notes, and made a list of new names and new sources of information which had been suggested. There must have been four hundred such names, and I wrote a letter to each one, again enclosing my little circular and making careful promises of secrecy. Out of these four hundred I may have heard from one hundred, and I should estimate that three-fourths of these told me about the experiences of other men. There are eight or ten who profess themselves fully satisfied with the conditions under which they work, but even most of these do not care to be quoted. A number avail themselves of my offer, not merely to consider their communications confidential, but to send back their letters after I have read them!
Another detail, even more significant: there would be places in my notes concerning which I was in doubt, some statement for which I wished additional verification, and I would write to the people I had met. I recall them now, one after another—men with whom I sat at luncheon or dinner in a quiet corner in some restaurant, or in their homes; some of them talked to me for two or three hours, telling me their experiences and the experiences of their colleagues, some shameful, some grotesque and absurd. Many of these men promised me additional data, a clipping or a letter or confirmation of some sort; and I write to remind them of their promises, or to ask some new questions—and there comes no reply! I write to some of them two or three times before I realize what is the matter; these men are dead so far as concerns the mail! As matters now stand, they can deny that they ever met me—many of them told me that they would do that! But if they should send me so much as a line of their handwriting, some day the Black Hand of the plutocracy might raid my home and steal my papers—and then there would be ruin for them and their families!
Can you think of stronger evidence of terrorism than this? Out of not less than a hundred men who welcomed me with every courtesy, who expressed cordial interest in my project, and complete agreement with my view of the academic situation—out of these hundred men I need just the fingers of my two hands to count the ones who have been willing to write and answer my questions under the strictest pledge of secrecy! I take this occasion to send my greetings to the others, and assure them that I do not blame them too severely.
While preparing my proofs, still more evidence comes to me. In two different cases I sent a chapter of my book to university professors for them to revise, as they had offered to do. They dictated to their secretaries cold and stern letters, stating that they did not care to comply with my request; and along with these letters they sent me the manuscript, carefully and minutely revised! They understand that I will get the point; they have done what they promised to do, but at the same time they have protected themselves, and have a letter which they can display to college authorities, proving that they had nothing to do with my nefarious book!
Another case, still more significant: the liberal professors in one state university in the Middle West banded together and sent me a message through a former colleague, imploring me not to tell the story of their experiences in my book! The details of this controversy have been given full publicity in the press, and are public property; nevertheless, I am implored not to mention them, because it will stir up the reactionaries once more! Another professor in a great Eastern university, who told me how he took a public stand on an issue of academic freedom, telegraphs forbidding me to mention his name—and this though the story of his action has been publicly praised in the bulletin of the American Association of University Professors, and in several of the liberal magazines! A former professor in one of our largest Middle Western universities begs me to omit his name in telling his story—and this although I have newspaper clippings telling every detail! What am I to do about cases of this sort? Whom shall I consider, the individual professor or the public welfare? Read the man’s pitiful words:
I realize the value to you of specific instances, and am well aware of how much I am asking when I request the omission of my name. But it means my livelihood! If I am again kicked out of educational work I shall never be able to accomplish such educational reforms as I have in mind for the future. Please don’t put me in jeopardy! Sociological investigation often, of course, sacrifices the individual with perfect equanimity; but in this instance the individual is perhaps worth saving. Please let me know that you will spare me.
And here is another letter from a professor at another great state university in the Middle West: