The Youngest President

At the age of 23, bushy-haired Leon Botstein became president of New Hampshire's Franconia College in 1970. He immediately imposed one unusual new rule: no dogs on campus. "Fifty unkempt dogs running around was just too much," said Botstein, "so I got rid of them all."

The dogs were symptomatic of the chaotic conditions at the college itself. After seven years of operation in a rattletrap former resort hotel in the White Mountains, Franconia was near collapse. In 1968 the archconservative Manchester Union Leader had published an exaggerated expose that portrayed the college's scruffy students as rich freaks who spent more time at drug and sex orgies than at their books. The notoriety so unnerved the trustees that they fired the president. Before long, half the 40-member faculty quit and a third of the 240 students withdrew. Insurance companies suddenly canceled policies. Worried creditors soon forced the college into voluntary bankruptcy.

For two years Franconia drifted toward ruin under an interim president. Then the trustees hired Botstein, who was completing his Ph.D. in history at Harvard and working as a special assistant to the president of the New York City board of education. He had little administrative experience when he acquired the distinction of being perhaps the youngest president in American higher education, but improbably enough, he has turned out to be a smashing success. In less than three years he has improved conditions at the college to the point that it expects to receive full accreditation by the end of 1973.

Botstein took advantage of the depressed job market to recruit a new faculty willing to work for comparatively low pay (average salary: $10,960) and without tenure. Despite the poverty of most colleges (see following story), he raised enough money through cost cutting to pay the overdue bills. With $800,000 in federal grants, he built three small dormitories, a student union, an auditorium and a new library. As the college's reputation improved, applications increased; enrollment rose to 425, even though Franconia's tuition and other fees amount to $4,200 annually. By opening the library, concerts and some courses to the public, Botstein has also improved relations with the conservative townspeople. He explains: "Many of them used to feel that the people on the hill thought themselves better, had a direct line to the truth, and held the locals in contempt. Now the clash has vanished."

At the same time, Botstein preserved many of the innovations that gave Franconia its freewheeling reputation. Students still serve on all committees, including those that appoint new faculty members. There are no required courses, no formal academic departments and no grades. After spending much of their last two years on independent study projects, students must demonstrate competence in their fields to a faculty committee in order to receive a degree.

Now 26, Botstein has encountered no special problems because of his youth, partly because his manner and bearing are those of an earnest 35-year-old, partly because he possesses enormous energy. Soon after becoming president, he took on the duties of the dean of the faculty. He also teaches courses in Greek philosophy and music composition and conducts the college chorus. For relaxation he practices on his violin or viola -favorite pieces include works by Brahms and Mozart -or plays table tennis. On taking office, Botstein said that he might retire while still in his 20s, "to start from the bottom somewhere else." Since then he has found the life of a college president so agreeable that he declares he has "no set agenda, no personal plan for my life," and he talks of staying on until the job is no longer challenging -perhaps when he reaches the ripe old age of 35.

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