The Bursar's Daughter

Alfred University in upstate New York is a pleasant little (1,315 students) coed school, nestling in the Allegheny foothills 70 miles south of Rochester. Its catalogue makes a special point of its philosophy: "From the time of its founding , Alfred University has never allowed discrimination in any form . . . The resulting homogeneity has served to produce unusually fine social relationships." Last week Alfred's homogeneity left a bitter taste in the mouth of its bursar, Edward K. Lebohner. The bursar's pretty blonde daughter had run off with the school's basketball star, a Negro.

When Warren Sutton, 21, first heard of Alfred in 1957, he was co-captain of the Chester (Pa.) High School team, which ranked second in Pennsylvania. The towering (6 ft. 4 in.) son of a steelworker, shy Warren Sutton was a good student and hoped to enter Columbia University; but his college board exam score was ten points too low. Alfred's Basketball Coach Pete Smith promptly got him a scholarship. Warren broke 20 Alfred records, last year was the nation's fourth-ranking rebounder in small college play, and he stayed as shy and studious as ever. "The nicest, quietest kid in the world," said Recruiter Smith proudly.

Goodnight. All of Alfred agreed, and especially 18-year-old Dorothy Lebohner, who first began cheering Alfred's finest athlete when she was a local high school student. But Dorothy never spoke to Warren until last summer, when both were waiting on tables at summer school. Hesitantly, Warren asked her to the movies; she refused. He persisted, and finally last fall, when Dorothy became an Alfred freshman, she agreed--if another girl went along. After many Coke-and-walk dates, they kissed goodnight. "He's such a gentleman," she said. "And he knew the vast difference between us."

On Warren suddenly fell the full weight of campus gossip. Bursar Lebohner called in Warren for long talks; Coach Smith had him over for dinner. Said Smith: "Warren asked me once, 'What have I done wrong?' I couldn't advise him on that one." The pressure grew. "Dorothy and I tried to stop seeing each other," said Warren, "but it didn't work." Last December Warren finally quit school in a bitter mood: "I was railroaded out of town, almost." He went to New York City, looked for a job; Dorothy soon followed--for a week, until she ran out of money and had to go home. But she did not forget Warren: "When he was forced to leave the university, something went out of my life."

Goodbye. Last week baffled Bursar Lebohner drove his wife and daughter to New York, planned to see them off for Florida, where he hoped a long vacation would make Dorothy forget her "teenage infatuation." It was a futile hope. Dorothy slipped out of her Manhattan hotel room at 1 a.m. and met Warren in Grand Central Station. For the next 22 hours, she said, they walked, talked, ate hamburgers and saw five double-feature movies. Meanwhile, the alarmed Lebohners called the cops. They finally found the couple in a Times Square movie house (the double bill: Time of Desire and Tides of Passion), arrested Dorothy as a "wayward minor.''

When newsmen buttonholed him, Bursar Lebohner said: "Education today is all about one world, and that idea has taken over. Many of her friends are amazed at our opposition to this romance. But this integration stuff has its limits. Mixed marriages don't work." Back at the police station, before being convoyed home by the Alfred police chief, Dorothy told Warren: "I want you to go home, honey, and finish your education. I'm going to finish mine. We'll have our day." Then she kissed him. Back in Chester, Warren's mother said sadly: "I feel the same way as the girl's father. I'm sending Warren money to come home--a boy needs his mother at a time like this."

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