Policing the Campus

In the good old silent college days, the duties of the kindly campus cop were rarely more critical than controlling a panty raid, lecturing a drunken student or investigating a petty theft. That serene existence has long since passed. Today's city-size universities have spawned an increasing crime rate and a restive student body. As a result, many university administrators are recruiting a new breed of campus gendarme.

He is younger, often college-educated, and trained to handle every campus crime from riot to robbery. At Detroit's Wayne State, few of the 35 patrolmen have reached their 30th birthday, and all hold at least one college degree. In addition to full-time police duties, they take night courses toward a master's degree in liberal-arts subjects, and most take advanced courses in police science as well. "Students know about our degrees," says Wayne State's Lieut. Dick Leonard, a Michigan State graduate, "and realize we've had the same problems they have now." But members of the force know that they cannot let their sympathy for the students interfere with their job. Says 24-year-old Dan Murphy. "We just can't allow disruptive tactics."

Peace Pigs. To cope with the dramatically different campus of today, university police chiefs try to weed out authoritarian types among their men who may provoke more trouble than they control. Berkeley's top cop, William Beall, frankly admits that he looks for "Peace Corps" types who can assure the students that "we are less likely to escalate the situation." And Don Schwartzmiller, security chief of Kent State's force, makes sure he knows what his officers will do "if they're called pigs by youngsters who mean it." Says Schwartzmiller: "Their reactions have to be under control in all kinds of situations."

Even with better men and training, campus police forces may still be overwhelmed by the task of patrolling what amounts to a massive urban community. Then they must ask for outside help. At relatively quiet campuses the problems usually remain manageable. But at Berkeley, Beall and his 87-man force must resort to the most ingenious means to keep order. Two recent examples:

After Beall got word three weeks ago that radicals planned a major confrontation on campus, he allowed a "peace brigade" of students to interpose themselves between the radicals and his force, which was protecting the university's R.O.T.C. building. The predictable rocks were hurled at the cops and buffering students, but no police charges or tear gas followed. After a few minor skirmishes, the radicals left in disgust. Said one dejectedly: "Hell, the pigs didn't shoot off ten bucks worth of gas today." A week later, after a tense memorial rally for the Kent State dead, two of Beall's officers strolled through the university plaza, flowers in their lapels, with student-made "cool it" signs. And the students did.

Small Fires. In cases of large-scale disruptions, any university police force promptly asks for outside help. Sensing the potential for tragedy at Kent State three days before it occurred, Schwartzmiller sent an S O S to the state highway patrol. The National Guard escalation that followed was out of his control. Says Schwartzmiller: "We're not on campus to control riots. We put out small fires and try to keep others from starting."

Few campus police forces exercise authority beyond the university and adjacent areas. But if the force is large and thoroughly professional, it may serve the surrounding community by answering calls for help. When Wayne State began to organize a campus force in 1966, the university area was the most crime-infested in the city. Since that time, the force has handled quite a few off-campus calls. The crime rate has been slowed, and the situation is better than in many other areas of the city. The campus itself has stayed especially quiet. While buildings burned and rifles were fired only two blocks away from the campus during the city's 1967 riots, Wayne State's damage amounted to two broken windows. Major credit for the continuing order in the campus community goes to the university cops. "If it weren't for our campus police," says Duncan Sells, the university's dean of students, "this campus would have blown a long time ago."

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