Original Article: http://dartreview.com/archives/1998/10/07/brown_no_financial_aid_necessary.php
Wednesday, October 7, 1998
Porches, Ferraris, celebrities, drugs, and a little bit of rock and roll. Is this some trendy new bar in LA or New York, an enclave of posh hipsters, effete models, and sleek furniture? Actually, you're a bit too far Southwest. It must be Boston, you say. Wrong again — think of a more boring state. Give up? This new Mecca for the children of the ultra-rich and famous is Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island.
In the February issue of Vanity Fair, Janet Conant wondered why Brown has become a haven for the offspring of the exclusively moneyed. Her conclusion would be obvious to a slow-witted chambermaid — Brown needs the cash.
The University has the lowest endowment in the Ivy League and has decided to turn their financial crisis around with quite simple reasoning: big names equal big money. In fact, that is apparently the mantra of Brown's outgoing president, Vartan Gregorian.
In his eight years as Brown president, he has more than doubled the endowment, which has now swelled to $800 million. 'My approach to Brown was very simple,' he says. 'Excellence has a price tag. You have to pay for that. You have to invest in Brown's future.' Profound indeed.
But who are these deep-pocket contributors who generously endow this educational haven?
The answer reveals a pantheon of international pretension — sons and daughters of Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, Ringo Starr, George Harrison, Max von Sydon, Claus von Bulow, and King Hussein have either graduated or matriculated at Brown. And how could you ever forget the crown prince of Camelot himself, John F. Kennedy, Jr. The list is never-ending.
Although President Gregorian denies concentrated recruiting of such upper echelon families, Brown's admissions staff have packed their bags for all the best schools the Meditteranean elite have to offer.
Since Gregorian took the reigns of the university in 1989, Brown has stepped up recruiting at the upscale foreign prep schools. Gregorian's minions have traveled to Europe, Greece, and Asia to search for the well-to-do students that would rejuvenate the school's fading financial pulse, regardless of the student's academic repartee.
In fact, Brown made a concerted effort to travel to those schools with specific reputations for graduating trust funds instead of brains. And they found them, bagged them, and shipped them to Rhode Island.
As Brown graduate Carlos Mejia said, 'Whether they were looking for rich international students to aid their endowment or looking for richness in diversity, I don't know.' The only diversity Brown apparently pursues in these big game student hunts are diversified stock options.
Why would these magnates buy Brown, though, and not Yale or Dartmouth or Columbia? The administration and student body give several answers to that question.
It could be Brown's 'New Curriculum,' where students 'no longer have to deal with tedious core courses such as mathematics and languages' — Conant's words, not mine. Then again, it could be then university's optional pass-fail system. Failing means nothing and is never recorded. How convenient. But also, Brown is located in cosmopolitan Providence, Rhode Island. With such close proximity to Boston and New York, who needs the plebian distractions of class and homework?
The university says these 'preferred customers' are treated the same as everyone else. The school's acting director of development, Steve Oliveira, says, 'That's the beauty of the place — its egalitarian. So your dad was president. Your family is on the Forbes Four Hundred list and they're billionaires. That's nice — get in line.'
Mr. Oliveira must not understand the meaning of the word egalitarian. An institution that claims to be egalitarian would not reject, as Brown does, the concept of need-blind admissions, a policy embraced by every other Ivy League school. Brown can, and I'm sure does, reserve spots for stature. I guess their selection process is kind of like making reservations at Spago in Los Angeles —leave your name and credit statement with the hostess, and they'll seat you as monetarily possible.
Meanwhile, once there, these creme de le creme often shell out many greenbacks in order to fashion the area to their liking. They have their dorm rooms custom painted, with curtains and Oriental rugs to boot.
After their freshman years, people normally want to get out of their shabby dives and get into something more suiting to them. It's probably something along the lines of the Center Place, an apartment complex complete with a swimming pool, a gym, and private parking. It sounds like Melrose Place, drop shipped to New England.
What happens to these 'Euros,' as they're affectionately known around campus, after they finish their 'demanding and rigorous' four years of study at Brown? Many are set up in the family business.
They head towards the high profile careers that originally sent them there — music, entertainment, and news. But have they really gained anything from their Brown experience other than some words on a diploma? Probably not. Brown has prospered by exploiting the good name of the Ivy League, by putting a monetary price on its name instead of an academic one. They have sacrificed their integrity and reputation as an institution of higher learning and then hid beneath their pretension.
At least one Brown student realizes this. 'There are really two Browns,' say one alum. 'There is the Brown full of smart and serious students, and then there is this whole parallel universe of Beautiful People who live in a world of great apartments, great parties, and buzz around campus all day on Vespas. They major in art history, take photography at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design), and walk around carrying portfolios, trying to look cool.'
There may, in fact, be two Browns—a real one and a fantasy land. However, it seems as if the fantasy land is fighting to overwhelm the reality. And if the current trend of finance over academics continues, you can expect to see a whole lot more of the Beautiful People.