The Quiet One

A few months after taking over as president of Princeton University, Political Scientist Harold W. Dodds issued a typically Doddsian communique. "I hope the alumni will pardon me," he wrote, "if at this time I propose no stirring platform ... or radical reform." As things turned out, President Dodds has never made any such proposals, and his alumni have gone right on pardoning him. It made no difference that Robert Hutchins was once supposed to have cracked: "What's wrong with you down there at Princeton? You're never stirring things up." Last week, as he passed his 20th anniversary in office, Harold Dodds knew full well that Princeton still likes him as he is.

A relaxed, white-thatched scholar in rimless spectacles, he has managed to be one of the most effective of university presidents with a minimum of flash. "A college president," he says, "has two choices. One is to lean toward being a public figure. I decided to throw my weight toward Princeton." Dodds has built slowly and well on foundations that he never wanted to alter. Unlike Mover Conant or Shaker Hutchins, he can sum up his career so far with a refreshingly unorthodox boast: that in its basic philosophy, Princeton "has not changed in the least in the last 20 years."

Cravings & Aspirations. It has changed quite a bit on the surface. From his comfortable office in No. 1 Nassau Hall, Dodds has kept his administrative machinery humming with apparent effortlessness. He has tripled his endowment to $73 million, nearly doubled his faculty to 380, put up the great Firestone Library, added the $1,500,000 Forrestal Research Center to his campus. But all this was merely in extension of the slogan that Woodrow Wilson left behind: "Princeton in the nation's service."

To Dodds, such service is of a very special sort. Though every Princeton man is supposed to emerge at least part public servant, he gets his training indirectly. To a degree, thinks Dodds, in trying to ape the sciences, the social sciences have given away a lot of ground they shouldn't have. "We turn to the humanities for knowledge and wisdom about our spiritual aspirations and our human cravings for justice, beauty, honor, integrity."

Novelty v. Depth. To give his students this kind of knowledge, Dodds has placed his emphasis on the individual teacher and learner. He has set up broad special study programs in the humanities, American civilization and the creative arts. He has set up full-fledged departments of music and religion, has constantly reminded his campus to "look to religion for the truths that will not perish." The target Dodds has set for himself: not novelty, but depth.

Today, at 64, he is still a remote figure to people both on and off his campus. Nevertheless, Princetonians have felt his influence--the healthy influence of the Ivy League's able Quiet One, whose contribution to U.S. education has been less to create than to conserve. Last week, after 20 years, Harold Dodds had every intention of pursuing his course. "Hitler, F.D.R., Conant and I," says he, "all came into power at the same time, and I'm the only one still doing what I was."

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