The childcare revolution

Tags

1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2010s, childcare, women

The crèche in its original premises in the old All Saints Church Hall. The notes on the back of this photo are difficult to decipher. The voluntary helpers are identified as Vivienne Moss (although that name is crossed out) and Jenny Heath. The child facing the camera at the centre is Rebecca, with Rachael nearest the camera. Please get in touch if you can confirm any names! Photo courtesy of the Otago University Childcare Association.

There is one organisation affiliated to the university which, although unknown to some students and staff, has had a big impact on the institution since it began nearly 50 years ago: the Otago University Childcare Association (OUCA). During the university’s first century there were few women academics, even fewer married women academics and scarcely any with young children. Microbiologists Margaret and John Loutit arrived at Otago from Australia in 1956; Margaret obtained part-time work as a botany demonstrator and then microbiology lecturer while working on a PhD. As a working mother she encountered considerable criticism. Her salary was mostly absorbed in paying for private childcare, but her hard work was rewarded with the completion of her PhD in 1966; she then became a full-time academic and eventually a professor. For many others, motherhood spelled the end of any academic career, while most students abandoned degrees when they gave birth. In the 1960s and 1970s, when many New Zealanders married young and, whether married or not, also had children young, that meant a lot of ‘academic wastage’.

Improving childcare provision helped the next generation of women. Several younger staff wives instigated the university’s first crèche, designed to provide part-time childcare for students. Since the university was unwilling to provide childcare, the founders set it up as a community venture; the vicar of All Saints Anglican Church offered the use of the old church hall. They invited women students to a meeting late in 1968 and ‘it was evident from the animated discussion that a nursery would fulfil a need’. The University Nursery Association – later renamed the Childcare Association – was a parent cooperative, with Jean Dodd as first president; she was a lecturer’s wife who previously set up a playcentre in Leith Valley. The nursery/crèche (both names were used at various times) opened in 1969 with kindergarten teacher Barbara Horn and Karitane nurse Ann Leary as its first supervisors; parents provided assistance according to a roster.

Outdoor play and learning in the 1990s. Photo courtesy of the Otago University Childcare Association

The new affordable and convenient crèche, together with new access to contraception, made a big difference to women, comments one student of that era, Rosemarie Smith: ‘gaining control over fertility and creating childcare revolutionised women’s access to education – and also to employment in the university’. She ‘graduated in 1971 with a BA and a baby thanks to that crèche’, and worked on the general staff for a couple of years. There was some resistance to the crèche. Most people in positions of authority in the university – generally men – saw no need for it, but there was also resistance from women uneasy about working mothers. There was, however, a demand for childcare and the association grew quickly, from 39 paying members in 1969 to 83 in 1971. That year it moved into the Cumberland Suite (an old house) of the University Union and in 1973 into a house at 525 Great King Street. That was provided by the university as temporary accommodation, since it intended to demolish the building to make way for a carpark. Instead it became a long-term home for the association, which expanded into two adjoining houses in the 1980s.

Childcare became more respectable as increasing numbers of middle-class married women joined the workforce. OUCA helped overcome some resistance in its early years by insisting it was a part-time service, but from 1980 it offered full day care. The service was increasingly used by staff, although students retained priority. In 1994 there were 138 families using university childcare; 71 were staff and 55 were students. It remained affiliated to, rather than owned by, the university, although the university provided its buildings – including splendid new Castle Street premises in 2014 – and small grants from the university and students’ association covered a small portion of its expenses. Unsurprisingly, given its clientele, OUCA attracted highly capable people to its management committee. Among the parents who served were some who subsequently held senior posts in the university, including future vice-chancellor Harlene Hayne; she was succeeded as president by historian Barbara Brookes, who suggests it ‘was perhaps the most important committee in the university in terms of the connections we made’. Brookes, her husband (also an academic) and children all made, through childcare, ‘deep friendships that nourish us today’.

Behind the facades of several villas in Castle Street, across the road from Selwyn College, Te Pā opened in 2014 as new premises for the Otago University Childcare Association. It incorporated four childcare centres, including a new bilingual centre, Te Pārekereke o Te Kī. The association also continued to run a centre at the College of Education. Graham Warman photographs, courtesy of University of Otago Marketing and Communications.

Learning to lecture

Tags

1900s, 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, classics, economics, education, English, French, geology, Higher Education Development Centre, history, medicine, philosophy, physics, psychology, teaching, technology

WR Morris lecturing in the ‘old anatomy lecture theatre’ – now the Gowland Lecture Theatre – in the Lindo Ferguson Building, 1949. Anatomical drawings and skeletons were popular visual aids from the medical school’s earliest classes onwards. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, University of Otago Medical School Alumnus Association archives, MS-1537/441, S17-550c.

The University of Otago’s founders followed Scottish precedent in their choice of curriculum and also in teaching methods: rather than the Oxbridge-style tutorial, teaching was based on the professorial lecture. That had the advantage of being economical and many subjects got by with just one staff member for the first few decades. The professor did all the teaching, except in the sciences, which were first to acquire assistants, necessary because of the laboratory classes which supplemented lectures. Humanities subjects had no tutorials until the 1940s, though in some cases the classes were small enough that professors became well acquainted with their students. As mentioned in a recent post about the history department, history professor John Elder told a young lecturer whose students showed marked progress after he introduced seminar discussions: ‘These young men like to hear themselves talk but you’re paid to lecture and you’ll therefore lecture. So long as I’m head of this department, there’ll be no discussions’.

Elder was not the only professor suspicious of tutorials. They eventually sneaked into arts subjects as the rehabilitation department funded tutorials for returned servicemen and women in the wake of World War II; they became standard additions to the lecture programme soon after that. Sometimes the impetus for this innovation came from students and sometimes from staff. In 1948 Frank Mitchell, the education professor, reported that ‘this year the Honours students on their own initiative organised tutorials for students taking Education I. I hope that it will soon be possible to conduct regular tutorials for all stages’. In the same year departing philosophy professor David Raphael noted that tutorials were ‘not just a desirable luxury’ in that subject, but ‘essential for adequate training. Philosophy is a way of doing things with one’s mind, not a set of facts to be learned, and consequently the student must be in a position to practise the accomplishment in question’. Tutorials required a bigger investment in staff, but the growing student roll justified that.

Academics of course varied greatly in their teaching styles. Founding classics professor George Sale, notorious for his disdain of students’ abilities, preferred the stick to the carrot. John Murdoch, in reminiscences of his own teaching career, wrote of meeting some of Sale’s honours students after a lecture in 1907: ‘They had just received their corrected Latin proses, and the most successful had gained a mark of “minus 300”. Sale deducted marks, 10, 50, 100 or more for a mistake, according to his estimate of its seriousness’. Murdoch had little respect for the methods of the early 20^th century professors: ‘Otago University as I knew it was in effect a glorified coaching school’. Although the academic staff were ‘capable and well-qualified’, suggested Murdoch, their teaching was determined by a system whereby courses were ‘set by regulations applying to all four [University of New Zealand] colleges, and the success of their efforts was gauged by examiners in England’. Such conditions made ‘inspirational teaching almost hopeless if not quite impossible’, at least in English, ‘a notoriously difficult subject to teach’. Future high school principal Muriel May, an Otago student of the 1910s and 1920s, recalled that Thomas Gilray, the English professor, ‘taught by dictating at a relentless pace to his benches of scribbling students in the Lower Oliver classroom …. at the prearranged dates we regurgitated. There were no seminars, no discussions, originality was not fostered nor were personal opinions encouraged’. There were always, of course, some inspiring teachers. May also recalled that George Thompson’s French lectures ‘were invariably stimulating and enjoyable. (Latin students made comparable claims for the classes of Professor Adams.)’ Lecturer Agnes Blackie was in love with physics, which she found ‘brimful of interest’. ‘I can’t imagine a better subject for a lecturer’, she wrote in her reminiscences. ‘Lectures can be illustrated with fascinating demonstrations which bring the subject to life for the students and are fun for the lecturer to operate’.

From the 1950s, with greater local control of the curriculum and the widespread use of tutorials in addition to the traditional lectures, labs, clinical teaching and field trips, academic staff had greater flexibility in teaching. Their adoption of new technologies varied. Visual aids did not have to be high-tech: the beautiful anatomical drawings of John Scott, who was a skilled artist as well as first dean of the medical school, were used at Otago for many decades. Others used glass slides and a ‘magic lantern’ projector to show images. John Mackie recounted its use by Noel Benson in 1929 first-year geology lectures; it was ‘a contraption on a tripod which stood behind the lecture bench. Believe it or not, this projector incorporated an arc-lamp which spluttered, fizzed and made other dangerous noises, although as a source of light it was quite spectacular’. The notoriously absent-minded professor occasionally tripped over its wires ‘and the whole contrivance would crash to the floor’; that happened also on the day he rushed to extinguish the light after discovering students had replaced his first slide with a full-frontal nude. Slides remained a popular teaching tool, though shown through a more compact slide projector from the mid-20^th century, with the slides themselves shifting from glass to film negative to digital format.

In 1940 the dean of arts and sciences, Robert Bell, reported that several departments took advantage of a new scheme for borrowing ‘sound-films’, finding them ‘an extremely valuable and effective addition’ to teaching methods. Not every academic liked new technology; John Howells, who retired from the economics department in the 1990s, commented ‘my major advancement in the technology area stopped with the biro pen’. The emergence of the Audio Visual Learning Centre (AVLC) in 1973 ‘was regarded with suspicion by some staff members who had visions of classes being handed over to various mechanical gadgets’, reported the staff newsletter in 1977. By then, the ‘prejudice’ was ‘disappearing’, with 30 departments already using the AVLC. Its use ranged from ‘tape/slide/workbook programmes’ for anatomy courses to a ‘film providing “evidence” for a simulated Supreme Court trial’ for law students. The impetus for the centre came from the medical school, which was concerned about how it would manage its larger intake of students; it provided space for AVLC academic director David Teather and his team, with a production centre in the Adams building and a study centre with library of audio visual resources in the Scott building.

By the time this photo was taken in 1983, medical school lectures had become much more relaxed and technology enabled the use of film and other audiovisual aids. Please get in touch if you can help identify the lecturer or class! Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, University of Otago Photographic Unit archives, MS-4368/086, S17-550b.

Academics using the AVLC ‘face some adjustment of their teaching methods and their attitudes’, noted the staff newsletter in 1975. There was already wider consideration of teaching and learning methods in the university, which new technology helped accelerate. In 1971 the lecturers’ association ran a well-attended seminar on teaching methods and suggested the university set up a research centre on higher education. In 1973 Otago appointed Terry Crooks as a lecturer in the education department, with half of his time devoted to research and advice on university teaching. He, the lecturers’ association and AVLC ran occasional sessions on teaching methods; for instance, a 1976 session looked at the use of film in university teaching, with staff discussing Otago-made films they had used in anthropology, physical education and medicine. Psychology lecturer Louis Leland ‘introduced a film which demonstrated the training of laboratory rats’. He made ‘a similar film each year with rats trained by the current year’s students and uses this to demonstrate to the following year’s students that training rats is within their capability’. In 1976 senate established a higher education research and advisory centre (HERAC) committee. HERAC and the AVLC often worked together and in 1978 they merged under a new acronym, this time destined to last: HEDC, or the Higher Education Development Centre.

Although HEDC had few staff in its early years, it performed a significant role; ‘there was growing awareness of the need for stimulating teaching’ reported the director, David Teather, in 1983. A recent two-day seminar on ‘helping students succeed’ had attracted 140 staff and ‘there was now hardly a department which did not make regular use of the resources at HEDC’ for producing teaching aids. That was just as well, since students ‘now came from school expecting to make use of technology in their work’. Computers became a significant part of that technology, and in 1986 Graham Webb joined the HEDC team; his ‘major responsibility’ was ‘to advise staff members on the educational uses of computers on campus’. Otago’s computing services centre also developed a team with expertise in computer-aided learning and in the 1990s HEDC’s audio-visual production section joined them as part of information technology services. HEDC continued to research and disseminate information on tertiary teaching, provide advice and run courses, notably for new academic staff; from 1996 staff could obtain a formal qualification – a postgraduate diploma in tertiary teaching – taught by the centre. The centre also supported Otago staff from other departments working on teaching-related research and new innovations. To help ‘enhance’ learning and teaching, the university offered special grants for research and innovation in teaching.

HEDC assisted with course evaluations, which gave students an opportunity to provide feedback on their teachers and courses. Staff could use them to identify weaknesses in their teaching which required work, or as evidence of their skills when seeking promotion. In an era of growing emphasis on quality assurance, they helped ‘measure’ courses in departments which were up for review. With a growing body of research from staff and postgraduate students on many aspects of higher education, plus a range of courses and support services for academics wanting to make their teaching more effective, Otago had travelled a long way from the days of Sale scoring papers at ‘minus 200’ and Gilray ‘dictating at a relentless pace’.

A class underway in the late 1980s or early 1990s in the Castle Lecture Theatres. The overhead transparency was a popular teaching tool for many years, later largely overtaken by Powerpoint digital slides. Unfortunately, the resolution of this old negative isn’t good enough to read what’s on the screen – if you can identify the class, lecturer or year, please get in touch! Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, University of Otago Photographic Unit archives, MS-4185/060, S17-550a.

Admitting women

Tags

1870s, teaching, women

At the centre of this charming 1890s photograph of the Wanganui Girls’ College staff is the principal, Isobel Fraser, pouring the tea. She began studying at the University of Otago in 1879 and graduated BA and MA. Image courtesy of the Ian Matheson City Archives, Palmerston North, Public Photograph Collection Scs 52.

 

Learmonth Dalrymple, who led the campaign for the admission of women to the University of Otago. Image courtesy of Toitū Otago Settlers Museum, F761 (permission of Toitū Otago Settlers Museum must be obtained before any re-use of this image).

No women featured among the founding students (whose story appeared in last month’s post), but their absence did not last long. In August 1871, in response to a petition from 149 women, the university council agreed unanimously to admit women to all classes. This was welcome news to Learmonth Dalrymple, who had worked for years to improve educational opportunities for New Zealand women and girls. Dalrymple arrived in Otago with her family in 1853, carrying ‘an abiding resentment against the conventional and limited education for Scottish girls which she had suffered in the 1830s and 1840s’. In a quiet but determined fashion she led a long campaign against considerable opposition to have the provincial government establish the first public high school for girls in the southern hemisphere. With the Otago Girls’ High School opened in 1871, she and her supporters turned their attention to the fledgling university. They had good support on the council, especially from John Richardson, the chancellor. The council was not willing, however, to go as far as offering degrees to women; as Richardson explained, they would instead be admitted ‘to competition for Certificates which will be equivalent to degrees’. Such restrictions were in line with those in the few other universities in the British empire which admitted women. The most notorious examples were Oxford, which did not grant degrees to women until 1920, and Cambridge, which followed suit in 1948. In practice, Otago’s ban on degrees for women had no impact. By the time the first woman completed the necessary requirements all degrees were awarded through the University of New Zealand, which had no such ban. That university tacitly admitted the eligibility of women in 1874, when it accepted Auckland woman Kate Edger’s application for a scholarship; historian Jim Gardner notes that an institution desperate for enrolments could not afford to ‘turn away degree students in skirts’. Edger became New Zealand’s first woman graduate in 1877.

Mary Montgomery began studying at the University of Otago in 1877. She left to become headmistress of New Plymouth Girls’ High School in 1887. She continued her teaching career in other North Island schools following her marriage to Charles Baker-Gabb, and later completed her BA through Victoria College (Wellington). Image courtesy of New Plymouth Girls’ High School.

Although no women enrolled at Otago in 1871, at least four, and possibly several more, applied for admission in 1872. That was an impressive tally for a roll of just 70 students; it compared favourably with British universities, where a few women attended classes, though not yet on an equal basis with men. The most enlightened – University College, London – counted six women among its 1100 students in 1872. One of the first women at Otago was Anna Barton, who appeared on the list of students successfully completing part of the chemistry course in 1872. Probably attending with her was her mother, Jane Crichton Barton; founding student Alexander Williamson recalled attending classics classes with the Bartons and both women featured on the lists of successful chemistry students in 1873. The Bartons were women with sufficient determination, time and money to commit to a higher education. Jane, the daughter of a Scottish clergyman, was married to prominent Dunedin lawyer George Barton, who later became a judge. Their son Edward attended the university alongside their daughter Anna; he became a leading engineer in Australia, while her later life remains obscure. Another likely brother and sister pair among the early students were John and Miss M. Langmuir; she was probably Margaret, the daughter of Caversham market gardener and nurseryman John Langmuir (senior). Both Langmuirs passed the chemistry exams in 1873, while an unspecified Langmuir also succeeded in English and senior Latin in 1872.

Caroline Freeman, Otago’s first woman graduate. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, S13-186a.

Like their male counterparts, most of the early women students did not complete degrees. The first to do so, Caroline Freeman, first appeared in the lists of exam passes in 1875, when she topped the class in psychology and logic and also obtained a first-class pass in junior German. She did not, however, graduate BA until 1885. That was because she continued to work full-time, teaching during the day and attending university classes in the evening. It was not an uncommon pattern, but Freeman demonstrated more determination than most, for several years walking the 11 km home to Green Island after a full day’s work followed by lectures. She later moved into Dunedin and supported herself through tutoring and as a teacher at the girls’ high school. She had no higher schooling herself, following the same path as the many early students who had become pupil teachers as soon as they finished elementary schooling. After graduating Caroline Freeman established private schools for girls in Dunedin and Christchurch.

Ada Mary Fitchett, an Otago student in 1879, went to Melbourne in 1883 to teach at a the new Methodist Ladies’ College, founded by her uncle. She was lady superintendent of MLC from 1896 to 1921. Photograph courtesy of State Library of Victoria, Katherine Shaw Cole collection, H2014.11386.

Although it took over a decade for Otago to produce its first woman graduate, others quickly followed and by 1900 there were 58. As Dorothy Page notes in a study of these women, from 1886 ‘a steady and increasing trickle moved on from the girls’ high school to the university’, with at least 36 of the graduates former pupils of that school. Others came from the girls’ high schools in Southland (opened in 1879) and Waitaki (opened 1887), while a couple hailed from girls’ schools in Timaru and Whanganui. Many of the graduates went on to teaching careers themselves, providing role models and encouragement to future generations of potential women graduates.

There are few student records for the first decade – the names in the list below come from newspaper reports of exam passes. If you know of any other women who studied at Otago during the 1870s, please get in touch!

 

 

 

 

 

University of Otago women students of the 1870s – an incomplete list

• Alexander, Helen
• Barton, Anna
• Barton, Jane Crichton (nee Campbell)
• Begg, Miss
• Brown, Mary Maxwell
• Fitchett, Ada Mary
• Fraser, Isabel
• Freeman, Caroline
• Gillies, Isabella
• Graham(e), Mary G.
• Haig, Catherine
• Langmuir, Miss M.
• Mollison, Jessie
• Montgomery, Mary

 

Since this is the last blog post for 2016, I’d like to acknowledge everybody who has supported the project this year, whether by assisting my research, supplying photographs, promoting the blog, or just reading the posts – many thanks! All feedback is much appreciated. And I’m still trying to identify many of the mystery photographs – if you haven’t done so yet, please take a look and see if you can help! I’ll be back in February with more stories from the University of Otago’s fascinating past …

The class of 1871

Tags

1870s, classics, law, mathematics, mental science, teaching, theology

Robert Stout, future Premier of New Zealand, claimed the honour of being the University of Otago’s first student. This photograph was taken four years later, in 1875, by the NZ Photographic Co., Dunedin. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, Box-030-001, S10-021a.

When classes commenced at the University of Otago in July 1871, the first student to sign on was a 26-year-old lawyer named Robert Stout, admitted to the bar just a few days previously. Though nobody knew it at the time, Otago’s first student was an omen of a good future: Stout became Premier of New Zealand and later Chief Justice. He arrived in Dunedin from his native Shetland in 1864 with teaching experience and surveying qualifications in hand; after a few years teaching he commenced legal training. The energetic Stout was well known around town for he was involved in numerous organisations and notorious as a leading freethinker, who loved debating against religious orthodoxies. His student career was not a long one and he did not complete a degree, but it had important consequences, for he was greatly influenced by the mental science professor, Duncan MacGregor, and later recruited him to become one of the country’s top public servants. Stout’s political career began in 1872, when he was elected to the Otago Provincial Council, but he still found time to serve as the university’s first law lecturer from 1873 until 1875, when election to parliament spelled the end of any academic career. However, his influence on New Zealand universities was immense. He was a member of Otago’s university council for several years and later that of Victoria College (now Victoria University of Wellington), of which he was ‘principal founder’; he also served on the senate of the University of New Zealand for 46 years and was its chancellor from 1903 to 1923.

Peter Seton Hay, the brilliant young mathematician who was one of New Zealand’s earliest graduates. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, P2010-011/1-024, Album 605, Hay family portraits, S16-683a.

 

The university attracted 81 students to its first session. Few student records survive – those identified from various sources are listed at the bottom of this post. Only 20 successfully passed their exams. The others presumably failed or abandoned their studies: ‘not a few dropped attendance, finding the task of preparation too burdensome’, noted council member Donald Stuart. Many, like Stout, were full-time workers and part-time students. Others may have had more time to devote to their studies, but found themselves ill-prepared for tertiary-level education; some did not have the privilege of a high school education. When the Evening Star in 1878 referred to maths and physics professor John Shand as ‘the lucky tenant of one of the University sinecures’, former student Gustav Hirsch rushed to his defence, noting Shand’s heavy workload and the success of his teaching: ‘One of his first students was taken from an elementary school at a very small place up-country, and had just managed to pick up a little mathematical knowledge from the mathematical volume of the “Circle of the Sciences”. Under Professor Shand’s guidance this student a few years afterwards graduated a first-class, with honors in mathematics, and is now an M.A.’ That student was Peter Seton Hay, who had migrated from Scotland as a child and grown up on the family farm at Kaihiku, in the Clutha district; he subsequently became a noted engineer, known particularly for the railway viaducts he designed. He was also famous for ‘prodigious mental calculations’ and ‘solved abstruse mathematical problems in his leisure hours’.

Hay was one of the few early students to complete a degree; most attended classes for a year or two, or even longer, but did not graduate. Otago’s first degree, a BA, was awarded to Alexander Watt Williamson in 1874; it then put aside its power to award degrees in favour of the University of New Zealand, which remained the country’s sole degree-granting body until 1961. Williamson was a young school teacher in the Whanganui district who came to Dunedin to attend the new university. At least one other foundation student came from the North Island, indicating Otago’s status as a national university from the start; Thomas Hutchison also hailed from Whanganui. Hutchison, just 16 years old, was destined for a career in the law and as a magistrate; lawyers and future lawyers were quite a feature among the founding students. Sitting alongside Stout in MacGregor’s mental science classes was 28-year-old William Downie Stewart, the lawyer who had trained Stout; meanwhile, another of Stewart’s law pupils, his future legal partner John Edward Denniston, attended Latin classes. Denniston, who was 26, had been a student at Glasgow University before migrating to New Zealand with his family in 1862; his father was a Southland runholder. Denniston later became a judge.

William Downie Stewart was one of several lawyers or future lawyers among the first students. He was called to the bar in 1867, and this photo was perhaps taken to mark that occasion. Stewart later served in the House of Representatives and Legislative Council. His son, William Downie Stewart junior, was also a well-known lawyer and politician. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, William Downie Stewart papers, MS-0985-057/073, S16-683d.

For several other founding students, the university was a step on the way to a career in the ministry. David Borrie of West Taieri, Charles Connor of Popotunoa, John Ferguson of Tokomairiro and John Steven of Kaitangata all studied at Otago before undertaking specialised theological training to become Presbyterian ministers. Ferguson and Steven were already school teachers, pupil teaching being a common route to ‘improvement’ for pupils who did well at school. Connor was just 15 when he signed on at the university. His father, the Presbyterian minister at Popotunoa (Clinton), wrote to the council to enquire if his son could undertake university education without a good grounding in Greek. The cash-strapped clergyman would, he noted, find it impossible to support his son in Dunedin for another full year at the high school, but could stretch to the shorter university session. Charles was ineligible for the university scholarships offered students for the Presbyterian ministry as he was under 16. Meanwhile, Ferguson was able to fund his studies thanks to his success in a competitive exam for the Knox Church Scholarship, worth £30 a year for three years. Connor managed to win a scholarship in his second year; this one was offered only to second-year students, suggesting it was tailored for him, the only candidate. Ferguson and Connor both later travelled ‘home’ for further study in Scotland, while Borrie and Steven completed their ministerial training locally. Thomas Cuddie was another founding student intent on a career in the ministry; sadly he died (probably of tuberculosis) just a couple of months after classes began.

Charles Connor was one of several future Presbyterian ministers among the founding students. His photograph sat alongside that of Peter Seton Hay in the Hay family album – they lived in the same country district. It is tempting to think these photos date from the time they began at the university, when Peter was about 18 years old and Charles just 15. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, P2010-011/1-025, Album 605, Hay family portraits, S16-683b.

These men were just the sort of people the university’s founders had in mind. They helped boost the ranks of well-educated teachers, lawyers and ministers, making the country less dependent on imported professionals. Most had arrived in the colony as children or young men and they and their parents had aspirations for a good education. Most might be described as middle class, but some were of humbler means. Thomas Cuddie, for instance, was the son of labouring parents with a struggling small farm at Saddle Hill; he was born aboard the Philip Laing, which brought some of the earliest colonial settlers to Otago in 1848. It would have been impossible for this pious but poor family to fund an education further away without substantial help. Some influential people believed the country would have been better to set up scholarships for New Zealanders to obtain a university education overseas rather than founding a local institution so early, but others were concerned about sending their young people far away and beyond the influence of family; furthermore, some of the most talented might not return. In any case, once a local university was a reality, it became the most accessible option.

Ferdinand Faithfull Begg – Ferdie to his family – photographed in the 1880s. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, Album 398, p.17, Cargill family portraits, S16-683c.

There is some evidence of a ‘brain drain’ among the founding students. As would remain the case, some of the brightest were attracted to further study or other opportunities in Europe and not all returned. Peter Hay’s professors were keen to send him to Cambridge, notes one biography, but Hay ‘did not concur, having other than mathematical plans in which Cupid played a part’. For others of this migrant generation the ties to Otago and New Zealand were not so strong. Two went on to interesting careers in Britain. Cecil Yates Biss was born in India, where his grandfather was a Baptist missionary. He came to New Zealand in his teens with a brother and worked in various civil service jobs, including for the post office. After studying Latin and Greek at the University of Otago in 1871, Biss headed to Cambridge, where he completed the Natural Sciences Tripos with first class honours in 1875; he then qualified in medicine. He became a respected physician, researcher and lecturer in England, though his career was cut short by illness. He was also well known as a leading member of the Plymouth Brethren, and a colleague recalled that the non-smoking teetotaller was ‘rather given to admonishing his patients in regard to excesses and irregularities in living, in addition to ministering to their immediate ailments’.

Ferdinand Faithfull Begg was one of several businessmen among the founding students. He was the son of a prominent Edinburgh Presbyterian cleric. Begg joined his brother in Dunedin in 1863, acquiring good business skills in a bank and a large land agency. He performed well in the advanced maths class at the university in 1871 and returned to Scotland with his father, who had been out on a visit, the following year. There he became a prominent stockbroker, chairing the Edinburgh Stock Exchange and later the London Chamber of Commerce; he was also a member of parliament. One of Begg’s other claims to fame was to be ‘the first to ride a bicycle on the streets of Dunedin’; in 1871 he imported a ‘boneshaker’, complete with wooden wheels, brass pedals and iron tyres, backbone and handles.

There were no women among the founding students, but several joined classes the following year – I’ll feature the story of the admission of women in the next blog post!

University of Otago founding students – an incomplete list

From newspaper reports of exam passes:

• Begg, Ferdinand Faithfull
• Biss, Cecil Yates
• Borrie, David
• Cameron, J.C. [John Connelly?]
• Connor, Charles
• Denniston, John Edward
• Dick, Robert
• Duncan, James Wilson
• Dunn, John Dove
• Ferguson, John
• Fraser, J.M.
• Hay, Peter Seton
• Hirsch, Gustav
• Hutchison, Thomas
• Lusk, Thomas Hamlin
• Steven, John
• Stewart, William Downie
• Stout, Robert
• Wilding, Richard
• Williamson, Alexander Watt

Named in Williamson’s diary:

• Cuddie, Thomas Alexander Burns

Entered in university cash book paying fees:

• Allan, Alexander George
• Heeles, M.G. [Matthew Gawthorp?]
• Hislop
• Holder, H.R.
• Holmes, G.H. [George Henry?]
• Johnston
• Morrison
• Smith, F.R.
• Taylor, W.
• White, Clement

Wrote to secretary stating their intention to attend classes:

• Adam, Alexander
• Colee, Robert Alexander
• Hill, Walter
• McLeod, Alexander

I’d love to hear of any other 1871 students, or further details of those listed.

A home for art and artists

Tags

1910s, 1920s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, art, arts fellows, benefactors, library, physical education

Curator Donald Jamieson in the Hocken pictures stack, 1965. Photograph courtesy of the Hocken Collections, Box-240-004, S16-102b.

Otago does not, like some universities, have a fine arts programme; the highly-regarded Dunedin School of Art, established in 1870, is part of Otago Polytechnic. But the university has not neglected art: it has an art history programme, a prestigious fellowship for artists and one of New Zealand’s finest art collections.

That collection began when Thomas Morland Hocken donated his large collection of publications, archives, maps, photographs and paintings to the University of Otago, to be held in trust for the people of New Zealand. The deed of trust was signed in 1907, and in 1910 – shortly before Hocken’s death – the Hocken Library opened in a new wing of the Otago Museum (which was then run by the university). Hocken’s donation included over 400 pictures. Although his wife Bessie Hocken was a painter and photographer, he was not really interested in art for its aesthetics, but for the evidence it provided for research into his true passion, New Zealand history. The artworks he donated ranged from landscapes to political cartoons to paintings of Māori people and activities, and many included keys created by the Hockens to identify people and topographical features. Over the next few decades the library purchased further artworks and others were donated; the first published catalogue of the pictorial collection, dated 1948, included hundreds more works. Like the original collection, additions were mostly acquired for their historical interest, but they included many fine drawings and paintings. A great example is John Buchanan’s 1863 painting of Milford Sound. Linda Tyler, formerly pictorial curator at the Hocken, described this 1920s acquisition as ‘one of the icons of New Zealand art’; she recently discussed it on radio as her favourite New Zealand painting.

From the 1950s the Hocken pictorial collection took a new direction thanks to the influence – and generosity – of some noted art experts and collectors. Poet and editor Charles Brasch headed a new Hocken pictures subcommittee and – not without some opposition – shifted the acquisitions focus from history to aesthetics, and to include modern works. Brasch’s friend Rodney Kennedy made the first of many significant gifts to the Hocken in 1956 with 23 drawings by Colin McCahon. Kennedy attended the Dunedin School of Art in the 1920s and had many artist friends and a fine collection of New Zealand artworks; he was well-known around Otago as a long-serving drama tutor for the university extension department. Brasch, too, began gifting paintings in the late 1950s; both men gave further significant artworks during their lifetimes and by bequest. The Hocken’s important collection of McCahon’s works started with Kennedy and Brasch, but continued with gifts directly from McCahon and a bequest from his parents. Charlton Edgar, who taught at the Dunedin School of Art in the 1930s, gave nearly 400 works to the Hocken in 1961. This gift – known as the Mona Edgar collection in honour of his wife – ‘would update the Hocken with thirty years worth of modern New Zealand art’, wrote Tyler; it ‘changed the historical orientation of the collection irrevocably’. In subsequent decades the Hocken continued to purchase and receive generous donations of New Zealand artworks both modern and historical; by 2007 it held some 14,000 pictures. Those artworks have appeared in many exhibitions (in Dunedin and beyond) and publications and some can now be viewed digitally on the Otago University Research Heritage website. Dr Hocken little knew what he was starting when he gifted those 400 or so works depicting the history of New Zealand to the people of this country!

From 1966 the Hocken benefited from the existence of the Frances Hodgkins Fellowship, named in honour of one of New Zealand’s greatest artists. Modelled on the university’s Robert Burns Fellowship for writers, which had commenced in 1959, the new fellowship offered artists the opportunity to live in Dunedin for a year with a secure income and studio space provided; they had complete freedom of expression to work on projects of their choice. Anonymous ‘friends of the university’ made a large donation which endowed the fellowship, designed to aid and encourage painters and sculptors and foster interest in the arts at the university. The university was becoming an important patron of the arts, with fellowships for composers and dancers and children’s writers to follow later. Such fellowships were few and far between in New Zealand, so they carried considerable prestige.

Michael Illingworth, photographed in his studio by Max Oettli, 1968. Illingworth was the first Frances Hodgkins Fellow in 1966. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, P2011-027, S16-102c. Reproduced with the kind permission of Max Oettli and Dene Illingworth.

The rules stated that potential fellows needed to have ‘executed sufficient work’ to demonstrate talent as a painter or sculptor, and shown that they were ‘a serious artist’ who would be ‘diligent’ in developing their talent and would benefit from the fellowship. There was no requirement for applicants to have any formal education in fine arts, ensuring ‘mavericks’ would not be cut out. The university – or, at least, its selection committee – from the beginning showed a willingness to be bold and support innovative and sometimes controversial artists. The first Frances Hodgkins Fellow, Michael Illingworth, made the news a year earlier when his painting As Adam and Eve, on show at Auckland’s Barry Lett Galleries, attracted an obscenity complaint to the police. That incident cemented the painter’s frustration with the conservatism of middle-class New Zealand. A friend, the writer Kevin Ireland, later described Illingworth as ‘a person with a blunderbuss conversation and philosophy – he sprayed out and hit everything yet his art was so worked and jewel-like and carefully done’. The fellowship got off to rather an unfortunate start when Illingworth left halfway through his 1966 tenure, claiming he couldn’t work in the studio provided. The second Frances Hodgkins Fellow, sculptor Tanya Ashken, found Dunedin more congenial. Among the friends she made was Philip Smithells, director of the physical education school; she joined the students in his gymnastic classes and her observations of their movements and poses contributed to her new sculpture. Following her fellowship there was an exhibition of her work in the foyer of the museum (where the Hocken was still located).

Finding a suitable space for the fellows proved a long-term challenge. In 1975 the Cumberland St house where fellow John Parker had his studio was demolished partway through his term and he moved into an alternative in Leith St. In 1978 fellow Grahame Sydney declared the latest space, near the Leith, ‘a completely satisfactory studio’, but that one didn’t last either. The 2008 fellow, painter Heather Straka, noted that the then studio in Union Street West had good light and hours could pass without her realising: ‘Before I know it, it is 1am and I am still working’. For the past few years the studio has been in a prefab near the Albany Street music studio. Another challenge was funding. Although the original anonymous gift was intended to endow the fellowship permanently, by the late 1970s inflation had eroded the value of its income, along with those of the Burns and Mozart fellowships. The university held a successful appeal to boost fellowship funds, attracting donations from individuals and businesses, along with a government grant. In 1986 the university decided to withhold the Frances Hodgkins Fellowship for a year to build up its capital, but donations from the Queen Elizabeth II Arts Council and M.W. James Trust meant it could be offered for a shorter term of 6 months. Since then, the fellowship has been awarded every year.

The list of former Frances Hodgkins Fellows is a veritable who’s who of the New Zealand art world. Many of the artists held the fellowship fairly early or mid-career and went on to great acclaim, such as Ralph Hotere (1969), Marilynn Webb (1974), Jeffrey Harris (1977), Gretchen Albrecht (1981), Fiona Pardington (1996 and 1997), Shane Cotton (1998) and Seraphine Pick (1999). ‘It’s flattering to be in such good company’, said Heather Straka during her tenure. ‘Everyone who has come through this residency has been of quite good note and has produced great work while on the residency’. Freedom from financial worry – for a year, at least – led to the production of many fine works of art: John Ward Knox, the 2015 fellow, described it as ‘a windfall of time and space and freedom’ to create. The Hocken showcased the work of each fellow through an exhibition hosted soon after their tenure, and acquired some of those works for its collection.

If you’re in Dunedin, take the opportunity to see some of the highlights of the Hocken at its current exhibition (on until 22 October). And keep an eye out for the exhibition to be held later this year at the Hocken Collections and Dunedin Public Art Gallery to mark 50 years of the Frances Hodgkins Fellowship. If you’re further away, you can still enjoy many of the Hocken’s art treasures in digital format – happy viewing!

Boosting human capital

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1990s, 2000s, 2010s, benefactors, funding, law, leading thinkers, marine science, medicine, peace and conflict studies, science communication, Scottish studies

Professor Jim Mann, director of the Edgar Diabetes and Obesity Research Centre, with donors Jan and Eion Edgar at the official opening. It was the first project funded under the Leading Thinkers scheme. Image courtesy of the Edgar Diabetes and Obesity Research Centre.

Inspiration for policy and practice at Otago has come from many different places. Canada may not be the first country that springs to mind, but that was where the concept for a significant new initiative for the university was sparked!

In the 1990s and 2000s, as student numbers surged while the government tightened its belt, the university sought to diversify its funding. Unlike some countries, notably the USA, New Zealand did not have a strong tradition of large-scale philanthropy to tertiary education, though there were of course many gifts and bequests which established scholarships, prizes and the like through the years. During the early decades of the twentieth century Otago also benefited from some more substantial donations and bequests which enabled the teaching of new subjects (home science, anthropology and music), a boost to teaching and research in others (physics, chemistry, economics, English, dentistry) and the establishment of several new professorial chairs (physiology, medicine and surgery). Reaching out to Otago’s growing body of alumni was one way to attract a new wave of generosity. Functions for graduates around the world began to take off at the time of the university’s 125^th anniversary celebrations in 1994.

In Toronto the dynamic Gill Parata, first head of Otago’s alumni office, met Brian Merrilees, an Otago graduate who had a distinguished academic career as professor of French, also holding various administrative roles at the University of Toronto. He told Gill of the university’s very successful fundraising campaign and arranged for Graeme Fogelberg, Otago’s vice-chancellor, to meet with Toronto’s president and other key figures in the campaign. One aspect of Toronto’s campaign was to raise funds to attract ‘superstar’ academics to the university. Though they suspected the ‘superstar’ idea might not work in New Zealand, the Otago group liked the idea of focussing a fundraising drive on increasing the university’s intellectual capacity; they believed this would have more appeal than bricks and mortar, comments Graeme Fogelberg. Otago’s executive and council liked the concept, and so a scheme for ‘knowledge leaders’, later known as the Leading Thinkers initiative, was born. In 2002 Clive Matthewson, a former member of parliament and cabinet minister, was appointed as Otago’s Director of Development to oversee the project.

The government was also keen for tertiary institutions to attract more funding from the private sector and established a Partnerships for Excellence scheme, which matched dollar for dollar funds raised for major capital developments. The scheme was targeted at building development; one of its best-known outcomes was the University of Auckland’s large business school, funded by a multimillion-dollar donation from expatriate businessman Owen Glenn. However, after much hard work, in 2003 the Otago team managed to convince a sceptical government that human capital was also worth funding under the scheme. The government agreed to match funds raised over the next 5 years up to a total of $25 million, a goal the university eventually exceeded 6 months ahead of time.

The ‘advancement’ team had already raised funds for some new Otago projects before the government came on board, but projects funded through the official Leading Thinkers scheme eventually totalled 27. It took a gift of $1 million, matched by another $1 million from the government, to fund a permanent chair, and most of the projects enabled the university to establish a professor, often with an associated research centre. The initiative got a great kick-start with a generous donation from the charitable trust of Dunedin businessman Eion Edgar, who happened to be the university’s chancellor; this funded the Edgar Diabetes and Obesity Research Centre. Donations came from a range of individuals, charities, businesses and other organisations. Some provided permanent funding for existing projects with precarious sources of income; for instance, Cure Kids funded a chair in child health research which enabled Otago to retain Stephen Robertson, the gifted paediatrician and clinical geneticist whose post had been based previously on short-term funding. Cure Kids also funded a second chair in paediatric research under the scheme, awarded to Christchurch neonatologist Brian Darlow.

Children in the Apple programme, one of the Edgar Diabetes and Obesity Research Centre’s first projects. This seminal study showed that community-based initiatives could successfully reduce the rate of excessive weight gain in primary school-aged children. Image courtesy of the Edgar Diabetes and Obesity Research Centre.

Not all of the initiatives were in health sciences, indeed, they included all of the university’s academic divisions. And not all related to existing fields of teaching and research at the university: some took it in brand new directions, sparked by the particular interests of the donors. A good example is the Legal Issues Centre and associated chair. This was endowed by philanthropists Grant and Marilyn Nelson through the Gama Foundation, inspired by their frustration with a drawn-out legal case. It aimed to act as a ‘critic and conscience’ of the legal profession and system, and provide insights to ‘reorient the legal system so that it works better for people’. The Gama Foundation also funded a research fellowship in bipolar disorder through the Leading Thinkers scheme. One interesting donor was the Stuart Residence Halls Council, the organisation which founded and ran Arana and Carrington Colleges. Having sold the colleges to the university, it generously donated much of the money back to endow two new chairs, in science communication and Scottish studies. There was just one exception to the rule that the Leading Thinkers scheme was about people. It wasn’t precisely bricks and mortar, but the ocean science research vessel Polaris II certainly wasn’t human! There isn’t space here to describe all of the initiatives, but you can read a little about each in an article published to celebrate the scheme’s tenth anniversary.

The Polaris II, a former fishing vessel purchased and refitted to serve as a research vessel for a wide range of marine and environmental science activities. Image courtesy of University of Otago Marketing and Communications.

The Leading Thinkers scheme proved an enormous boon to research, teaching and public engagement at Otago, bringing inspirational scholars of international reputation to the university and helping retain other excellent minds. The dynamism of these people led to impressive results, quickly achieved, and drew other good people, both staff and students, to work with them. Thanks, Canada, for the idea!

Staff and students of the National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies (plus a few from tourism) at Otakou Marae in 2013. Foundation professor Kevin Clements is the tall figure with white hair in the middle. The centre began in 2009 as a Leading Thinkers initiative and quickly developed a great record of research, teaching and public engagement. By 2014 it had 6 academic staff and 24 PhD students from 19 countries. Image courtesy of the National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies.

Eight vice-chancellors

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1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, vice-chancellors

In the 67 years since Otago appointed its first full-time academic head, eight people have held the role. But who were they? Each brought valuable skills and experience to a job critical to the shaping of the university. Three were named Robert or Robin – beware of confusion!

The modern role of vice-chancellor was created in the 1940s. Before that the university was administered by its council (chaired by the chancellor) and the professorial board,(renamed the senate in 1961); much of the day-to-day work fell to the registrar. A staffing crisis during World War II forced a rethink of Otago’s management. When the chancellor fell seriously ill, his deputy – known as the vice-chancellor – had limited ability to take over because he was a busy parish minister. Meanwhile, some of the registry staff were away on war service, pushing the registrar to the limit as he coped with the needs of the growing organisation. In 1944 the council decided the time had come to appoint a full-time academic head of the university, though they had to wait until the war ended and the government came up with the necessary funds. Rather than the term ‘principal’, popular in some countries, the council selected the more familiar ‘vice-chancellor’ name for the new role; the new vice-chancellor would chair the professorial board and report to the council.

Robert Aitken, Otago’s first vice-chancellor (1948-1953). Image courtesy of Hocken Collections, John McIndoe Limited archives, MS-3247/584, S11-532e.

Otago managed to persuade one of its own star graduates, Robert Aitken, back to New Zealand to become first vice-chancellor in 1948. Aitken was a son of the Presbyterian manse, born in Wyndham; he graduated top of his medical class in 1923 and headed to Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship. After completing a doctorate in respiratory physiology he practised medicine and taught at Hammersmith for some years before becoming professor of medicine at Aberdeen in 1939, still aged in his thirties. At Otago, Aitken furthered his reputation as a good administrator, already established at Aberdeen, earning support from those who had been sceptical about the position. When he left in 1953 the student publication Otago University Review commented: ‘He has shown us that vice-chancellors are, if not an essential thing, at least a very good one’. He also won plaudits from the arts faculty, which noted he ‘fully appreciated the central position of an Arts Faculty in a University and his keen analytical mind quickly gave him a grasp of Arts Faculty affairs’. Ironically it was probably the medical faculty which least appreciated Aitken: though initially enthusiastic, the more conservative forces of the medical and dental schools did not appreciate his progressive views on medical education or his abolition of their special sub-committee of the university council. Aitken was recruited back to Britain to become vice-chancellor at Birmingham in 1953. Wise, fiercely intelligent and thoughtful of others, though somewhat austere, he set a high standard for his successors to live up to; he was undoubtedly a success in pioneering the new role.

To replace Aitken the council looked closer to home, appointing Frederick Soper, who had been professor and head of one of Otago’s largest departments – chemistry – since 1936. Soper was a Welshman who served in World War I and lectured at Bangor before migrating to New Zealand to take up the Otago chemistry chair. He became known for his research into wool and, as I’ve written previously on this blog, he took a key leadership role in New Zealand’s scientific work during World War II. Soper later noted that the main features of his ten years as vice-chancellor were ‘the beginning of the upwards surge in student numbers’ and the planning and completion of several new university buildings (the library, the union and the dental school, among others). Soper kept on good terms with the growing student body: ‘student unrest and claims for a greater say in the running of the University had not yet crossed the seas, although political interest was alert and lively’, he recalled. He had morning tea with some of the OUSA executive every week and entertained them at the VC’s official residence, the Lodge, a couple of times a year; he was delighted to be made a life member of OUSA when he retired in 1963.

The next VC was also a Welshman, coal miner’s son Arthur Beacham. Beacham, an economist with research interests in mining and in monopolies, visited Otago while on sabbatical from Aberystwyth in 1956 and liked the place enough to return as vice-chancellor in 1963. He stayed only three years in the job, but they were significant ones. Otago was adjusting to the new administrative model which replaced the old University of New Zealand: individual universities were now funded by a five-yearly government block grant, managed locally by the university council. The ‘special’ schools particularly disliked having to compete with other sections of the university for funding, and Beacham proved unpopular with the medical and mining schools (the metallurgy course closed down in this period, marking the beginning of the end for the school of mines). But Beacham was a fierce advocate for Otago, falling out with prime minister Keith Holyoake over inadequate funding of universities, and some issues were beyond his control. The fiery VC had, according to university historian WP Morrell, ‘an alert, analytical mind, a persuasive tongue and great energy and drive’.

Robin Williams (right) with long-serving registrar Jock Hayward soon after Williams became vice-chancellor in 1967. Image courtesy of Hocken Collections, University of Otago registry archives, MS-3201/009, S15-592a.

The challenges of growth and tight funding continued under the reign of Beacham’s successor, Robert Williams (known as Robin). Williams was recruited to the Otago leadership role in 1967 from the State Services Commission. He grew up in a Christchurch vicarage and studied mathematics and physics at Canterbury before taking up radar development work with the DSIR in 1941. He was seconded from that role to work on the US-led Manhattan Project, which developed the first atomic bomb. After the war Williams studied at Cambridge before returning to the Wellington DSIR. At Otago, Williams oversaw the reforms which led to the survival of the medical school; it was, on his arrival, under threat of relocation. He was a far-sighted leader, with a deep and life-long concern for ethics and social justice, but his Otago term was also notable for the first stirrings of student unrest at the university. The student roll grew from 4300 to 6100 during his six years in office and among those students were some who embraced a new youth culture which resisted the conformity of earlier generations. Arguments over mixed flatting and new student discipline regulations prompted protest. Robin Williams left Otago to become vice-chancellor of Australian National University, Canberra, in 1973; he then returned to New Zealand as chair of the State Services Commission.

After two vice-chancellors who came from outside the university, in 1973 Otago appointed an insider, Robin Irvine, then clinical dean of the medical school. Irvine had proved his administrative skills when he took on the new role of clinical dean and helped develop the new clinical schools in Christchurch and Wellington. He was an Otago graduate who worked in Auckland and London before returning to the medical school as a researcher; his key field was kidney disease and hypertension. While previous vice-chancellors had faced the challenges of a growing institution, this reached a new level during Irvine’s 21 years in the role: when he started out Otago had just over 6000 students and when he retired it had over 14,000. In addition to the administrative difficulties of dealing with this growth, Irvine faced the complications of the neoliberal government reforms of the 1980s, which revolutionised – and placed under threat – university funding. Irvine restructured Otago in 1989, creating the system of four academic divisions which was controversial at the time but proved effective and survives to this day. Like Otago’s other medical VCs, he consciously took a wider view of the medical school’s role within the institution, an attitude not always popular with the school! Irvine’s appetite for hard work became legendary, as did his immaculately tidy office.

As extensive government restructuring of tertiary education and its funding continued through the 1990s, it was perhaps appropriate that the next vice-chancellor, Graeme Fogelberg, had an academic background in business, then rare in New Zealand university leadership. Fogelberg graduated and lectured in accountancy at Victoria University of Wellington before completing an MBA and PhD at the University of Western Ontario. He returned to Victoria as professor of business administration and was deputy VC there before taking on the Otago job in 1994. In the new competitive era of user pays and funding measured by ‘bums on seats’, Fogelberg’s ambitious strategic vision for Otago proved critical in keeping the institution afloat. Under his watch Otago attracted a new generation of international students beyond its traditional base (which was heavily dependent on students from Malaysia) and developed its alumni relations as part of the search for new sources of funding; it developed a base in Auckland and marketed itself aggressively around the country and around the world. Fogelberg was uncompromising and not everybody approved of his managerial approach. Small departments came under threat in the new funding environment and the closure of the small Russian programme was particularly unpopular with staff and students; meanwhile, the VC’s strong advocacy helped get the popular Spanish programme underway. Fogelberg retired in 2004, leaving behind a university with more students and a more diverse funding model than he had inherited. One of his proudest achievements was the magnificent new library building.

The three most recent vice-chancellors, Graeme Fogelberg (1994-2004), Harlene Hayne (2011- ) and David Skegg (2004-2011). Photographed in 2015 by Mary Fogelberg. Image courtesy of Graeme Fogelberg.

The next vice-chancellor was the third to boast an Otago medical degree. David Skegg, who featured in a recent post on this blog about Rhodes scholars from Otago, was the popular and long-serving head of Dunedin’s department of preventive and social medicine when appointed as Fogelberg’s successor. Skegg brought a strong focus on research and academic excellence to the role, continuing his own research into cervical and breast cancer during his time as VC, and encouraging others in the senior leadership team to continue their research. After many years of rapid growth, student numbers began to settle a little, though the post-graduate contingent continued to expand, as did the proportion of Maori and Pasifika students. Skegg was delighted with Otago’s success with the Marsden Fund and Performance-Based Research Fund, and the development of new chairs and research centres through the Leading Thinkers Initiative, commenced under his predecessor. Increasing staff collegiality was one of Skegg’s priorities – he was himself an Olympic-class networker – and there was a distinct lift in morale under his leadership. Dealing with the ‘high-spirited behaviour’ of students proved a challenge, with the Undie 500 attracting particular notoriety; Skegg led the university through the development of a controversial new student code of conduct, introduced in 2007 along with the Campus Watch system.

Harlene Hayne, vice-chancellor since 2011, is another distinguished researcher; she came to the role after a couple of years as Otago’s deputy vice-chancellor for research and development. Hayne first arrived in Otago from her home country, the USA, in 1992; she completed her doctorate in psychology at Rutgers, followed by three years as a post-doctoral fellow at Princeton. She was promoted to professor in 2002 and, as well as heading one of Otago’s largest departments, psychology, she built up administrative expertise through various committees and as chair of the board of UniCol. It is not yet time to assess Hayne’s achievements as vice-chancellor, but in line with her psychology background she quickly demonstrated a particular concern for student well-being. She is well known for appearing in a hands-on role at major student events.

Otago has been fortunate in the calibre of its vice-chancellors, who have brought a range of skills and experience to this challenging and powerful job. We can only hope that future vice-chancellors continue the tradition of skilled leadership, and that the appointment of the first woman marks the beginnings of increasing diversity in Otago’s flagship position.

Among the brightest and the best

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1900s, 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, anthropology, botany, economics, geology, law, medicine, physics, Rhodes, scholarships, sports, vice-chancellors, women

James Allan Thomson, New Zealand’s first Rhodes Scholar, as he appeared in the Auckland Weekly News, 7 July 1904. Image courtesy of Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland Libraries, AWNS-19040707-7-2.

The Rhodes Scholarship – one of the most prestigious academic awards in the world – has shaped the lives of some of Otago’s most gifted graduates. The scholarship, which provides for study at Oxford University, has been awarded since 1902 thanks to a generous bequest from Cecil Rhodes. Rhodes, an English clergyman’s son and Oxford alumnus, made his fortune as a mining magnate in southern Africa. He was an ardent promoter of the British Empire and played a large hand in African politics as Prime Minister of Cape Colony in the 1890s. His business ethics and racial views seem highly suspect today, but the purpose of the scholarship he founded – to promote peace and civic leadership by bringing together young people from the British colonies, Germany and the USA to further their education – remains admirable. The scholarships provide tuition and living costs for two or three years of study at Oxford; they are awarded to young people who demonstrate a combination of intellect, moral character, leadership, physical vigour, and an unselfishness which will lead to a commitment to public service.

There have now been 219 Rhodes Scholars from New Zealand. This country was generally allocated one scholarship per year from 1904, with two per year from 1926 until 1993, when the allocation was increased to three. Otago has a proud record of producing 61 of New Zealand’s Rhodes Scholars, and for some years now has been neck-and-neck with the much larger University of Auckland for first place honours. Rhodes Scholars are, by definition, outstanding people. All have interesting stories and it is not possible to recount them all here. Some feature in items produced to celebrate the centenary of the scholarship, including an Otago Magazine article and an exhibition at the University of Otago Library Special Collections.

Otago’s – and New Zealand’s – first Rhodes Scholar was a geologist, Allan Thomson. He taught at Oxford and worked in Australia before returning to New Zealand, where he was a palaeontologist with the Geological Survey before becoming director of the Dominion Museum. He made major contributions to the organisation of science in this country before his life was sadly cut short by tuberculosis (his initial diagnosis prevented him from taking up a position on Robert Falcon Scott’s Terra Nova expedition to Antarctica).

A considerable number of Otago Rhodes Scholars continued their careers beyond these shores. For example, there were several from the 1930s – when there were fewer scholarly opportunities in New Zealand – who became well known: doctor and Olympic champion Jack Lovelock (1931), journalist and war correspondent Geoffrey Cox (1932), Oxford English professor Norman Davis (1934), and writer and publisher Dan Davin (1936). Quite a few, like Davis, continued their academic careers at Oxford and other overseas universities.

Arthur Porritt in 1923, the year he was awarded a Rhodes Scholarship. Image courtesy of the Alexander Turnbull Library, S P Andrew Ltd :Portrait negatives. Ref: 1/1-018584-F.

Other scholars brought their overseas experience back to New Zealand. Where leadership is concerned, the best known is Arthur Porritt (1923).  At Oxford he completed the medical studies begun at Otago and went on to a stellar surgical career in England, becoming president of the Royal College of Surgeons and British Medical Association. He was also a stellar athlete; his bronze-medal win at the 1924 Paris Olympics was represented by the fictional Tom Watson in the film Chariots of Fire. From 1967 to 1972 Porritt returned to New Zealand and served as the first locally-born Governor General.

Sir Arthur and Lady Porritt in vice-regal splendour for the opening of parliament in 1968. Image courtesy of the Alexander Turnbull Library, Further negatives of the Evening Post newspaper. Ref: EP/1968/2679/6A-F.

Some Otago Rhodes Scholars returned to their alma mater and took up significant leadership roles. Hubert Ryburn (1921) was a mathematics scholar and Presbyterian minister; he sat on the University Council from 1946 and served as Chancellor from 1955 to 1970. Otago managed to entice another former Rhodes Scholar, Robert Aitken (1924), back to New Zealand to serve as its first full-time administrative head in 1948. Aitken left his position as Regius Professor of Medicine at the University of Aberdeen to become Otago’s vice-chancellor; he left in 1953 for a position as vice-chancellor at Birmingham. A more recent vice-chancellor, David Skegg, was also a Rhodes Scholar (1972). Skegg, who graduated top of his class at the Otago Medical School, relished the opportunity to study at Oxford with distinguished medical epidemiologist Richard Doll. In 1980, at just 32 years, Skegg returned to Otago as Professor of Preventive and Social Medicine, skilfully leading that department until 2004, when he became a popular vice-chancellor. He left that role in 2011, but continues as a highly respected research professor to this day.

David Skegg outside the Bodleian Library at the time of his graduation with an Oxford D Phil. Image courtesy of David Skegg.

Others also returned to Otago, sometimes briefly, and sometimes to make a career. A couple of recent examples are Jesse Wall (2008), now on the law faculty staff, and bioethicist Tom Douglas (2003), who remains at Oxford but visited last year to foster research links with Otago staff.

Athletes Porritt and Lovelock weren’t the only famous sportsmen on Otago’s Rhodes list, which also features two All Black captains, Chris Laidlaw (1968) and David Kirk (1985). For Kirk, like some others, the scholarship provided an opportunity to branch out from his original field of study. He was a medical graduate, but studied PPE (politics, philosophy, economics) at Oxford, returning to a career in politics, then business, in New Zealand and Australia. For Kirk, Oxford also provided a welcome respite from his celebrity status in New Zealand as Rugby World Cup-winning captain.

Cecil Rhodes’s will limited the scholarship to men. By the 1960s this had become a sore point, and from 1968 to 2000 Rhodes Visiting Fellowships were awarded so women who had already embarked on academic careers could also benefit from time at Oxford. Only 32 of these fellowships were awarded, so it is remarkable that 11 went to New Zealand women, two of them from Otago: archaeologist Helen Leach (1980) and lawyer Mindy Chen-Wishart (1992). In 1977 an Act of Parliament overturned the gender restriction and made the original scholarships open to women. Otago’s first woman Rhodes Scholar was law student Christine French (1981); since then women have accounted for just over half of the Otago recipients. The Rhodes Project, established by one of the first American women Rhodes Scholars to promote public understanding of female achievement, provides information about some of the Rhodes Scholar women and their subsequent careers.

Though Otago’s first Rhodes Scholar was a scientist, the list is dominated by arts, law and medical students; the most recent Otago science student to win a Rhodes was Jane Larkindale (1996), who majored in plant biotechnology and physics and is now a research scientist in the USA. Commerce students are even rarer, though Louis Chambers (2013) was a student of economics as well as law. Talented commerce and science students of today might like to consider this a challenge!

The cost of an education

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1880s, 1890s, 1900s, 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, allowances, bursaries, fees, loans, scholarships

Students protest about the rising costs of education, 28 September 1993. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, OUSA archives, AG-540/011, S15-500b.

How much did you pay for your degree? This year marks the 25^th anniversary of the introduction of the ‘user pays’ philosophy into New Zealand tertiary education, so I thought it would be interesting to look back over university fees through Otago’s history. Comparing costs over a long period is not straightforward, but fortunately the Reserve Bank’s inflation calculator at least allows us to take inflation into account. In the graph below, I have calculated the total compulsory annual fees for the cheapest degree, a Bachelor of Arts, at every tenth year – these include tuition fees, exam fees (a substantial additional cost until the 1960s), various administration fees and students’ association fees. I adjusted these totals according to the Consumer Price Index to 2015 equivalent values, giving a rough idea of the changing ‘real’ costs over the years.

Otago students made a substantial financial contribution towards the cost of their education in early years, but fees remained unchanged for long periods and with inflation their real costs declined. In 1920 tuition fees were much the same as they had been in 1880, at three guineas (£3 3s) for each ‘standard’ course (an arts subject, for instance) plus an administration fee of one guinea (£1 1s). Examination fees – payable to the University of New Zealand – added costs of a guinea per subject (and there were also additional one-off charges for the award of a degree, not included here). From 1890 there were also students’ association fees to take into account: in 1920 these amounted to 10s 6d for men and 7s 6d for women (the gender differential disappeared soon afterwards).

Specialist degrees cost more. The 1920 calendar advised that the total tuition, administration, OUSA and University of New Zealand fees for a five-year medical degree came to £177 9s ($15,728 in 2015 values), provided it was completed in the minimum time; for the many who repeated years it would cost more. At the same time a four-year dentistry degree would set a student back £120 15s ($10,702 in 2015 values) and a four-year home science degree cost around 55 guineas ($5119 in 2015 values).

Fees were relatively high again in 1930 and 1940, but declined steadily in real terms through the 1950s before jumping significantly in the mid-1960s; by 1968 they had reached their highest level to date. The 1970s and 1980s were decades of high inflation. While OUSA fees crept up as a consequence, tuition fees remained unchanged from 1968 to 1981, meaning a very significant decline in real costs; small rises through the 1980s were well below the rate of inflation and by 1989 compulsory annual fees were at their lowest ever level: tuition fees cost $288, OUSA fees were $101.20 and the welfare service fee $26.40, making a total of $415.60, equivalent to $754 in 2015 values.

In 1990 tuition fees jumped due to major government reforms, part of the neoliberal revolution of that era. Tertiary education, once seen as a public good, was redefined as a private benefit to which students should make a more significant financial contribution: ‘user pays’ was the mantra of the age. OUSA campaigned vigorously against the change. In 1989 over 5000 members joined a protest march, over 4000 signed a petition and over 3000 wrote to banks opposing a proposed loans scheme. Other than a delay to the loans scheme, such protests (which took place all over the country) were to no avail and Otago’s tuition fees quadrupled overnight, from $288 in 1989 to $1250 in 1990. Worse was to come as the new National government came to power in 1990 and continued the reforms commenced by the Fourth Labour Government. The government steadily reduced the level of funding per student, leaving universities no choice but to increase their fees; by 2000 tuition costs to students had doubled again and they continued to rise steadily through the twenty-first century. One rationale behind the reduction in government funding per student was to offer more places and make tertiary education more widely available; that was achieved, as student numbers grew, but it came at a heavy cost to students.

Of course, fees do not tell the whole story; they don’t even account for the entire cost of study. All students had to purchase text books and many had extra expenses for field trips, equipment and so on. These could be considerable. To take just one example, 1920 dental students (mentioned above) could expect to pay about £8 for books and £36 for instruments (a total of $3900 in 2015 values), increasing their course costs by more than a third. Though they could use these items once they had graduated, or sell them on, they still had to come up with the funds to begin with. Accommodation and living costs were another considerable financial burden for students. Unlike fees, these tended to keep pace with inflation, meaning their real costs did not fluctuate so dramatically through the years.

On the other side of the ledger was student income. There were always scholarships – funded by the government, the university or benefactors – for the most gifted students, but what of the average student? In Otago’s early decades few people from working class backgrounds made it to university; it was simply beyond their financial means and many did not even attend secondary school. Some wealthy university students were supported by their parents, but others generally had to work while studying part-time. Many classes were held in the evenings to cater for the large number of students who worked full-time, frequently as teachers, and Otago was sometimes known as ‘the night school on the Leith’.

In 1907 the government introduced bursaries which covered tuition fees for those who obtained credit in the scholarship exam, but were not among the handful eligible for a scholarship. This still provided for only the top echelon of students. Over the next fifty years new provisions evolved and by 1959 – the year of the Parry Report on New Zealand universities – there was an array of schemes offering assistance to about 60% of New Zealand students. The level of support, however, was low – many received only the cost of all or part of tuition fees, with no living allowance. Meanwhile, generous grants, covering both tuition and living costs, were paid to those on teacher studentships, though this bonded recipients to government service after graduation. The report suggested ‘more generous general bursaries are required in order to induce more young people to forgo immediate earning power and undertake full-time university study.’

From 1962 a more generous scheme essentially paid the tuition fees of all students eligible for entrance to university. In addition, full-time students with Higher School Certificate, plus those without HSC who had passed a first-year course, received a bursary. With the addition of vacation earnings, most students could survive on this bursary and full-time study became more accessible (particularly to men, who could earn more in holiday work than women). With various modifications this bursary scheme remained in place until 1989, although payments did not always keep pace with inflation and holiday work was not always readily available. The economic reforms of the late 20^th century spelled the end of this bursary scheme, and from 1989 students received a less generous student allowance, means-tested according to parental income (or their own income if 25 years or older). In 1992 the student loan scheme began and students, who now had to pay for rapidly increasing tuition fees, could borrow from the government to fund their study. Student loans initially charged interest from the time they were drawn down. From 2001 interest was not charged until a student had left education, and interest was abolished in 2006 for those who remained living in New Zealand. Over time, access to allowances tightened up and more and more students needed to borrow to cover living costs as well as fees, with increasing complaints of the inadequacy of student allowances; many students accumulated large debts.

Ready access to a full-time Otago education is no longer limited to the well-off or the very clever, as it was in the university’s early decades. But the broadening of participation has been accompanied by higher fees and lower allowances, with government loans becoming the means to tertiary education for those without privileged backgrounds. Scholarships are now more important than ever for those who want to graduate without a large burden of debt, and the University of Otago recognises this: a recent announcement of new and improved entrance scholarships will be welcome news for some.

Another photograph of the Otago student protest against rising fees, 28 September 1993. Image courtesy of the Hocken Collections, OUSA archives, AG-540/011, S15-500a.

PhDs by the thousand

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1920s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, accounting, biochemistry, botany, chemistry, economics, history, medicine, microbiology, PhD, physiology, postgraduates, research

A PhD is well worth celebrating! Graduates on 13 December 2014. Photo by Michael Thomas, courtesy of University of Otago Marketing and Communications.

In 2007 the University of Otago reached a milestone so significant it held a gala ball at Larnach Castle. A large group of postgraduate students gathered for a convivial evening, celebrating the enrolment of over 1000 PhD students at Otago that year. Students of a century earlier could not have imagined such an event. They would have been shocked at the numbers, for a start, but many would also have no idea what a PhD was. The growth of the premier research degree is one of the significant changes in university life over recent decades.

PhDs are a fairly recent phenomenon in the British and colonial world. The PhD as a higher research degree had its origins in Berlin in the early 1800s and was adopted in the USA from the 1860s. Oxford did not pick up the baton until 1917 but by 1919 it was in all British universities. The University of New Zealand – the federal authority which set the syllabus, conducted exams and awarded degrees for all universities here until 1961 – introduced the PhD degree in 1922, but the programme quickly ran into problems thanks to a requirement for full-time study. That made it less flexible than existing higher degrees, which had been around since the 19^th century. By 1900 three Otago students had earned a Doctor of Science degree, three were Doctors of Laws and four Doctors of Medicine. For those degrees students presented a thesis or publication, completed without any supervision from the university. Settling on a uniform standard for the PhD was another difficulty and, in the face of few enrolments, in 1926 the University of New Zealand abolished the PhD degree.

By the time existing students had completed, there were just nine graduates from the University of New Zealand’s first experiment with the PhD. Three were from Otago, and it’s nice that they were distributed around three of the current four academic divisions: sciences, humanities and commerce. The honour of being the first Otago student to graduate PhD, in 1927, goes to Rudolf Penseler, whose thesis was ‘Experiments on the Synthesis of Apofenchocamphoric Acid’, completed in the chemistry department. He later did further research in England and Germany before returning to a varied career in New Zealand. Following Penseler, James Salmond graduated with a PhD in history in 1928 and Walter Boraman in economics in 1929. Boraman became a secondary teacher and school inspector, while Salmond became a minister, educator and leader in the Presbyterian Church (Salmond College is named for him and his sister).

Arthur Campbell teaching in the first-year chemistry lab in the early 1950s. He was lecturing during the day and working on his own research at night. Image courtesy of Arthur Campbell.

After World War Two, as the country came to value increasingly the research work being done in universities, the PhD degree was re-introduced, this time to stay. Otago’s first post-war PhD graduate was Richard (Dick) Batt, a chemist, in 1948. Like quite a few of that generation of PhD graduates he went on to a distinguished academic career, in his case at Massey University, where he became a noted alcohol researcher. The next made his career closer to home. Arthur Campbell, who was once Batt’s flatmate, graduated PhD in 1953. With the regulations now more flexible, he was able to complete his research part-time while working as an assistant lecturer; in fact he did most of his work late at night in the laboratory. After completing he spent some time researching in Glasgow before returning to the Otago chemistry department, where he later became professor. He eventually retired in 1987, noted as ‘an analytical chemist without peer’. A second 1953 graduate – Lyle Fastier, based in the medical school – completed ‘an experimental study of the mouse encephalomyelitis group of viruses’. The following year Margaret Di Menna became Otago’s – and New Zealand’s – first female PhD graduate, with her microbiology thesis on ‘Yeasts of the human body: their nature and relationships’.

By the end of the 1950s another ten PhD graduates had been added to Otago’s credit, all of them in chemistry and biochemistry with one exception, which was in botany. Through the 1960s the Otago PhD slowly grew in popularity, though it took a while before the prejudice against ‘colonial’ degrees was lost and the best scholars no longer felt compelled to travel overseas for doctoral work. The colonial cringe is now long gone, with candidates coming from all over the world to study here. Good Otago staff attracted good research students, with the medical school a particularly important draw for researchers. Though fields of study broadened through the 1960s and 1970s, a very large proportion of Otago PhDs in those decades were in biochemistry, physiology and microbiology, together with chemistry. Funding was significant in attracting students too. After the devolution of scholarships, once run nationally by the University Grants Committee, Otago committed heavily to providing support for PhD students. In 1995 it boasted of being the New Zealand leader in postgraduate support, granting 97 scholarships (paying full fees plus $12,000) to PhD candidates, plus 89 awards to masters students. Scholarships assumed ever greater significance as the government reduced the duration of its financial support to students.

In 1995 Otago had just under 500 PhD candidates in a wide variety of fields, with 38% in the sciences, 34% in health sciences, 19% in humanities and 9% in commerce. The following year Paul Theivananthampillai became the 1000^th person to graduate with an Otago PhD (the count began in 1962, following the abolition of the University of New Zealand). Like many before him the 1000^th graduate was already an Otago staff member; he completed his study on ‘the coalignment of strategic control systems’ while lecturing in the Department of Accountancy. The next 1000 Otago PhD graduates took just nine years to produce. Now (June 2015), the University of Otago boasts 3514 PhD graduates, together with 25 who graduated under the old federal system. Their research represents a pretty significant contribution to the sum of human knowledge! Some of that knowledge can now be accessed freely on the Otago University Research Archive, which has digital versions of many Otago PhDs – happy reading!

PhD graduates during the 25 August 2012 ceremony. Image courtesy of University of Otago Marketing and Communications.