The Governor & the Schools

J. Bracken Lee, Republican governor of Utah, is a blunt, stubborn individualist with a passion for economy. He has cut off state aid to such projects as the Utah Symphony Orchestra, and has slashed the state's social-security program. He was the only governor in the nation who refused to declare a United Nations Day. He has consistently fought any increase in taxes, no matter what the need might be. But of all the stands that Lee has taken, none has stirred such storms as his atti tude towards Utah's public schools.

In the past few years, Utah's schools have been showing definite signs of malnutrition. Utah ranks 37th in the U.S. in the amount spent on each pupil, and while enrollments have been rising at the rate of 5,000 a year, the number of teachers graduating from the state's teachers' colleges has been dropping at the rate of about 200 a year. Last summer, angered over their salaries, 400 teachers quit their jobs in disgust, and last fall Utah barely escaped a general teachers' strike. Even prosperous Salt Lake City has felt the pinch: its schools have been so short of funds that they had to abandon their home-study program for blind and crippled children.

For Economy. Governor Lee has remained adamant. In 1951 he vetoed a bill to up per-classroom funds by $300; then he vetoed another bill to up funds by $200. Meanwhile, he appointed a committee to study school costs, but when the committee's report came in, urging bigger appropriations, he scorned it. Not until last month did he call a special session of the legislature to cope with the school crisis. It was then that the governor's troubles really began.

At the opening of the session, Lee indicated that he saw little reason for all the fuss. Though he did eventually recommend a slight increase for the schools, he seemed to have all sorts of other matters on his mind. Among other things, he wanted the legislature to provide uniform textbooks for the state, to forbid teachers to engage in politics while under contract, and to put their salary rais.es on a merit basis, rather than on a basis of degrees and seniority. He accused the Utah Education Association of being nothing but a pressure group, said that the state P.T.A. was nothing but its "echo." Finally, just for the sake of economy, Lee made another recommendation: that the state close Carbon Junior College in the town of Price, and that it transfer three other state-supported junior colleges to the Mormon Church.

$200 Raise. Republicans as well as Democrats were upset by some of Lee's suggestions. Instead of setting per-classroom funds at $4,600 as Lee wanted, the legislators slapped on an additional $200. Over the governor's veto, they also passed a 2-c- addition to the cigarette tax, to be turned over to the schools. They postponed Lee's program for merit raises, in effect put Utah's teachers in line for a blanket salary increase of $200. About the only victory Lee won, in fact, was on his recommendation for the four junior colleges. But last week, still singed by the frying pan, Lee found himself in the fire.

To the citizens of Price, the closing of Carbon Junior College came as a bitter blow; they immediately set up a Save-the-College Committee, with Lee's ex-campaign manager at its head. Meanwhile, Weber County also rose up in arms when it heard that its own college, which for years it had hoped to turn into a four-year institution, was to be transferred to the Mormon Church. "I tell you," cried one Weber senator, "that my people are angry." Echoed the Friends of Weber College Committee: "Fear is in the hearts of those who spawned this plot, and our people are aroused as never before."

Last week the two colleges began collecting signatures to a petition to place the whole issue before the electorate. But whatever the outcome, one thing was certain: J. Bracken Lee's political troubles were not yet through.

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