Confidential File

Educator Bans Students on TV

Dr. George Armacost is president of the University of Redlands.

Until yesterday, I looked upon the gentleman as I would upon the
president of any American university — with a certain amount of awe
and a definite amount of respect. I see educators as front-line
fighters defending the freedom of thought and expression.

I don’t see Dr. Armacost that way anymore.

He did a rather remarkable thing yesterday. He threatened to summarily
expel two of his students if they appeared on television to help
impress upon you the frightening dangers of a scientifically unexplored
drug called peyote, accused "accomplice" in the death of a University
of Redlands student last week.

I was shocked recently to learn that peyote can be purchased in many
areas of the United States. I even ordered some through the mail and
turned it over to the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.

This was part of the story I wanted to tell. Dr. Armacost could have helped, but he refused.

There were no legal nor moral factors involved in his decision.

It was an arbitrary one. An angry one.

"My own feeling," Dr. Armacost told me brusquely, "is that we’ve had too much publicity already."

He referred, of course, to Page 1 newspaper headlines last Wednesday
which spotlighted the death of Michael Hawks, 18, whose genius for
advanced biochemistry apparently led him to flirt –fatally as it
turned out — with peyote and other exotic drugs.

Dr. Armacost took exception to what he called newspaper sensationalism.

The facts, he charged, were twisted.

I asked Dr. Armacost for permission to interview two of Michael Hawks’
classmates on my television program. I asked permission to "untwist"
the facts, if they had, indeed, been twisted.

One of Michael Hawks’ classmates was Richard Lanham.

I talked to Richard’s mother after hearing that her son had been threatened with expulsion for rendering a public service.

"Is it true?" I asked her.

"Yes," she answered quickly. "Dr. Armacost said that if Richard
appeared on the show he might just as well not come back to school.

"He was very emphatic. But why don’t you check with him? I’m sure he’ll tell you the same thing."

I did. And he did.

I asked him if he believed himself within his rights to expel a student
for participating in off-campus activities, presuming their propriety,
and whether he considered his stand a legal one.

"We have a right to admit those students we feel are willing to
cooperate," he told me bluntly. "My position is perfectly legal."

"But doesn’t a student have a right to his own opinion?" I pressed.

"He can have his own opinion, but …" he added ominously.

‘Let’s Just Drop It … ‘

"One of your faculty members has agreed to appear on the show," I continued. "Would that meet with your approval?"

His answer was angry, desk-thumping:

"Let’s just drop it!"

"I dropped it.

And I sympathize with Dr. Armacost in his desire to shy away from anything which might embarrass his school.

But I consider him more than a little remiss in refusing to help get the peyote story told.