"This picture shows the original form of Boylston Hall. You see it is a pretty good-looking building. I cannot say that of the present Boylston Hall ... the original building bad a good rooj. How was that building spoiled? What led to the spoiling? Simply the growth of instruction in chemistry in Harvard College."

Thirty years after President Eliot wrote this in his Harvard Memories, the University is faced with another problem of expansion. But this time, it is not one that can be shrugged off by merely raising a roof. School systems throughout the country are overflowing with war and postwar babies. In five years, the advance wave of this torrent will begin pounding at ivied doors. More and more people will want to go to already crowded colleges, and in this demand lies Harvard's problems. It is perhaps the most challenging problem the College has faced in its 318 years: should Harvard expand?

The Graceful Lines

Expansion of the College is an exciting prospect. But Boylston's new roof, as Eliot pointed out, sacrificed beauty to function. The problem now facing the College in whether it can likewise expand its facilities without sacrificing the graceful lines of the traditional Harvard education.

Certainly there is no doubt that the College could find a way to expand physically; it could build fifteen Houses, two Lamonts, two Burrs, and a vastly expanded faculty. It could mean and undergraduate community of eight, or even ten undergraduate community of eight, or even ten thousand, rather than the present 4400. It would mean that Harvard could meet its vague "social obligations" by taking its share of the increasing thousands.

"Harvard has to maintain more or less its relative position to maintain its intellectual effectiveness," agrees Archibald MacLeish, acting master of Eliot House. But there is another social obligation which must be met first. "There is no point to expansion," macLcish continues, "if in expanding, you lose what Harvard College is." More specifically, the quality opf the faculty and the spirit of the Houses.

Like A Balloon

To enlarge most colleges by 1000 would require a new dormitory or two, an enlarged dining hall, library, and gymnasium-a balloon-like enlargement of the whole. Harvard, however, can enlarge by adding virtually self-sufficient units, each with its own academic staff, common rooms, dining and recreational facilities, and library.

In the Houses, the essence-what Gordon M. Fair, master of Dunster House, calls the "collegiate University atmosphere"-would be re-distilled, rather than being diluted by volume as it would in the case of organic expension.

One does not build a faculty with bricks or wood paneling, however, and the problem of expansion is as difficulty here. There is already an extreme shortage of teachers, and to expect top men to work for current salaries is wishful thinking. But, while complaining of present overwork, Harvard faculty members grudgingly admit with Philip H. Rhinclander '29, Director of general Education, that a "qualified faculty can be found if enough money is put into the field."

If Harvard could be expanded successfully, while still maintaining academic leadership, the question is how far it could expand. The over supply of students seems endless. In the recent America's Resources of Specialized Talent, editor Dacl Wolfle estimates that in five years, the number of college graduates will increase by a fifth over the total next June. In fourteen years, the number will shoot up by an astounding 220 percent (see graph) and the rise will not be temporary.

Not only will there be more students seeking admission to college, but a greater percentage will have the incentive and the economic means to go to college. Many of the increased thousands will flock to rapidly-enlarging state colleges. Others will fill hundreds of small private colleges, now literally begging for applicants. even more will resort to junior colleges for their terminal degrees, in an enforced realization of President-emeritus conant's predictions.

But, because of the mass-production techniques, trade school concepts of education, and inferior quality of instruction, the leading private schools-the "prestige schools"-will offer increasingly attractive prospects to increasing numbers.

How many of these thousands, then, should Harvard admit? There are three answers, and supporters of each can build an impressive case.

The most obvious solution is not to expand at all. Although he admits, 'my mind is open ... I'd like to hear more discussion," Wilbur J. Bender '27, dean of Admissions, defends this course, and with Justification.

Greater than our vague social responsibility to expand per se, he believes, is our responsibility "to maintain the highest level of liberal education ... even more so because of the threat of the serious watering down of liberal education."

With more people coming to the colleges, he adds, there will naturally be a concurrent increase in the number of highly intelligent applicants. With more top-rank people to choose from, admissions policy could become much more select.

Even if Harvard were to expand, it wouldn't make much difference, proponents of the status quo contend. Even if the College doubled in size, it would be providing educational facilities for only 1.6 percent of the increase in the year 1960 alone. There are a number who will argue, then, that the college would be better advised to spend it money for improvement of present facilities.

Among this group are those who hold their heads and moan about problems, problems; but there are many who sincerely feel that expansion would be useless. These have already been answered by President Pusey.

Last year, he said that more selective admissions and no enrollment increases would be unfortunate, "not only because ... admissions techniques are not sufficiently sensitive always to pick the 'right' ones, but even more because such a policy would lessen the total weight of the private college in our total educational landscape."

A few Eggheads

The second answer, then, would be an expansion parallel to the increase of college age children which would demand a student body of 10,000 a total of twenty house, and incompatibility because of sheer volume with the present character and standards of the House.

The ultimate answer lies in the third alternative: partial expansion to, perhaps 6000. While an increase of 1500 would soak up only a drop of the torrent, it can be justified on both practical and theoretical grounds.

Rhinclander feels that tool expansion is impossible, and as for a more selective admissions policy within the present size college, he says, "I'd be worried if Harvard came to the point where it attracted no students other than proto-Ph.Ds... to the exclusion of the practical men of affairs. We need more, not less, contact with the public."

This view is shared by Fair, who maintains that "this is not a University for a few eggheads. It must be for the stimulation as well as the preservation of knowledge. An ivory tower is not enough."

A Policy of Insurance

Once justified, even partial expansion offers complex problems of implementations. By simply expanding at a rate slower than the increase in eligible students, the admissions policy could become increasingly selective. But even this aspect of admissions is immediately complicated by the specter of Multiple Applications.

Even now, admissions offices are flooded with applications, many from students who are applying for insurance, rather than admission, so they will have some place to go it they are not admitted to the school of their first of second choice.

As larger public institutions offer increasingly dilute, impersonal education, private colleges will become all the more desirable, and multiple applications could soar frighteningly.

Frank H. Bowles, Director of the College Board, describes the present problem as "the result of poor advice in both school and college, of the case of making duplicate applications, and faulty administrative practice in both college and schools. It is not really an educational problem, because it is not affecting standards in any except far-fetched ways, but it is a terrible nuisance, and has to be recognized as such."

"Whom Do You Admit?'

Bender readily agrees that it is a terrible nuisance now at Harvard, which last year received 3600 applications for a class of 1150; what then, could you call the 10,000 applications anticipated for the class of 1970?

Another existing problem which will be greatly magnified by the war-baby flood is that of "whom do you admit." According to Bowles, in the February 1954 College Board Review, 150,000 of the people who entered colleges this year do not have the demonstrated ability to do college work.

A Magical Ratio

"If we say 150,000 fast, it may not seem a large number, but translated in terms of colleges, it becomes impressive. It amounts to no fewer than 150 fully-equipped colleges, each with a student population of 1,000, president, faculty, dormitories, classrooms, libraries, and laboratories. . .

"These 150 institutions do not exist as identifiable colleges . . . but their component part are scattered among colleges throughout the land. They represent, in fact, non-productive investments in education. Assuming a capital investment of $2,000 per student . . . and an expenditure per student of $400 . . . this means unused capital of $300,000,000 and wasted expenditure to the amount of $60,000,0000 a year . . . This, be it noted, could purchase a lot of good education. It is a high price to pay for the slogan that everyone should have his chance."

The ability, then, to predict which students are capable of college work is essential; now, Bender points out, "We have very blunt instruments, indeed, for prediction."

Other considerations than ability will have to be taken into account. With greatly increased costs because of building and faculty, scholarship funds may not increase proportionately. They probably will not be available in the same 1:4 ratio that they are at present. John U. Monro '34, director of the Financial Aid Center, asks, "Why should there be anything magical about our present ratio" If there are more qualified students who can pay their own way why shouldn't we admit them?"

After Twenty Years

Expansion problems hardly end with application, selection, and assistance. One of the most obvious for enlarged classes of 1550 is housing. The easiest way out would be to increase without increasing the number of residents. But even by doubling the number of commuters, another problem arises--enlargement of Dudley facilities.

For the residents, construction of new Houses depends largely on what kinds of facilities are desired and on what funds are available. The Housemasters, now seeking one or two new Houses to end present overcrowding, are considering a redefinition of the role of the House after twenty years.

'Educating Each Other'

Should a House be a social unit--with recreational as well as living and dining facilities? Should a House be an intellectual unit with extensive library facilities and conference rooms for talks with tutors? Or is it possible to maintain a satisfactory combination of both instruction from tutors and what Elliott Perkins '23, master of Lowell House, describes as "The process of the undergraduates educating each other"?

Regardless of the masters' decision, however, certain elementary physical changes will be necessary. To build Dunster House in 1929-30 cost about $3,500,000. To reproduce it now would cost $7-10,000,000. Thus, fireplaces and costly chimneys will yield to the relentless pressure of economy; the cherished luxury of private bathrooms will go the way of chinaware at meals; the system of small, quiet entries will probably be replaced by long hallways.

According to Edward Reynolds '15, Administrative Vice-president, the original houses cost between 12 and 15 thousand5Harvard enrollment; Inrease of size is nothing new.