128 Strategic Leadership
Some three decades later, a compelling story of transformation has unfolded
at the University of Richmond. The endowment and other investments are over
$1.5 billion, and total assets are near $2 billion. Faculty salaries by rank are over
the ninetieth percentile for small universities, and the faculty-to-student ratio
is under one to ten. Residences are filled to overflowing, applications average
6,000 for 750 undergraduate places, board scores have increased from 1,000 to
1,300, and the School of Law has become highly selective. The stunning campus
is filled with an ever-enlarging collection of state-of-the-art facilities and new
educational programs. There are substantial plant and operating reserves, and
there is no deferred maintenance. Faculty and student achievements continue to
hit ever-higher benchmarks.
What happened? Among many things, one of the university’s gradu-
ates, E. Claiborne Robins, stepped forward in 1969 to make a commitment of
$50 million ($240 million today), the largest gift at that time ever made by a liv-
ing individual to a college or university. Over the next twenty-five years, Robins
and his family would give another $125 million in gifts and bequests. Through his
leadership, others, including the Jepson and Weinstein families, joined in provid-
ing multimillion-dollar contributions.
When I arrived as president of the university in 1988, many of these trans-
formations had occurred through the energetic leadership of President Bruce
Heilman, and they continued under the ambitious goals of my successor,
William Cooper. I found a robust pulse of opportunity and an aspiration for
national leadership shared by many of the faculty, staff, and trustees. A pro-
posed new school to study leadership funded by alumnus Robert Jepson with
a $20 million gift symbolized the sense of momentum. But I also found deep
and perplexing forms of resentment over changes in the university during the
transformation. Troubling notes of discord existed in large segments of the
alumni body and among some of the senior faculty and a few of the trustees.
For many, the measures of success brought little satisfaction, and every board
meeting would bring the question “How many of the applicants are from
Virginia?”
As I reflected on the era of transformation, I concluded that the university’s
story of identity had become fractured, and with it, the meaning of its achieve-
ments. An institution that had been in financial distress had become rich. A place
that had enrolled more than 80 percent of its students from Virginia now enrolled
the same percentage from out of state, mainly from the Northeast. An institution
founded and governed by Virginia Baptists became independent, and the coor-
dinate academic structure of Westhampton College for women and Richmond
College for men had evolved into residential programs.
One of the ways that I tried to confront these issues was by hearing, learning,
and articulating the university’s narrative. My aim was to attend to the sense of
loss felt by many graduates and then to place the university’s identity in a larger
strategic context. My goal as a leader was to enlist their understanding and com-
mitment to the university’s ambitious vision of national leadership.