Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, February 20, 1995 TAG: 9502200032
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: ALLISON BLAKE STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: BLACKSBURG LENGTH: Long
In early December, even before a budget that could decimate his college was unveiled, the dean of Virginia Tech's College of Agriculture and Life Sciences made an unprecedented speech.
``This is the worst time in the life of the college,'' Andy Swiger began. ``We are hurt and perplexed by public criticism. We are shocked by the unending loss of funds with which to do our work.''
Since 1990, Virginia Tech has lost $46 million and 400 jobs. Shifting gears to cope with change has become the norm. But this winter, after Gov. George Allen proposed even deeper cuts, the level of frustration across campus seemed to deepen.
Among those who have watched the agriculture college lose 280 jobs is Greg Ferry. In his lab, the acclaimed biologist has figured out how to clean up trichloroethylene, one of the Environmental Protection Agency's top-five common toxic compounds.
After 19 years at Tech, he is leaving - reluctantly. When Pennsylvania State University came courting, he took the job, along with $80,000 he had coming from Tech's buyout.
``I'm kind of stuck at a plateau here,'' Ferry explained. ``It's a university distinguished professorship there. I want to stay here. If they just could have given me something.
``Any little thing.''
But there's no money.
When he leaves this summer, Ferry will take with him 10 research assistants and $450,000 a year in research grants. It not only delivers a blow to the university's prestige, but sideswipes the college's research budget.
``I love Blacksburg,'' Ferry said. ``The university, up until the budget cuts by [former Gov. Douglas] Wilder, was a wonderful place. There was tremendous support.''
New faculty members were added. More graduate students got stipends.
His department of anaerobic microbiology was among the best in the world.
``The state didn't want to support that, and the [university] administration was forced to merge it with the biochemistry department,'' Ferry said.
``A lot of people who are in a lot worse economic situation than me aren't going to feel very sorry for me because I'm moving to Penn State,'' he said.
But he's leaving because he had nowhere to go here.
No more room
Recession-era cuts in funding and staff have been at work at Virginia's largest university for months. In every department, restructuring is changing the way workers do their jobs.
While some areas of the university have been hit harder than others, most folks at Tech have accepted the fact that they must do more with less. They're forging ahead.
But workers across the university took it hard when Allen planned to cut higher education funding by more than $40 million to pay for a $2.1 billion tax cut and to build prisons.
``It's the worst year I have ever experienced in my 35 years of higher education,'' said Don Creamer, a professor of education. ``I have never seen anything like it. At least when Wilder was governor, we had the excuse of the state's financial problems. Now, political ideologies don't believe higher education should be funded by public dollars.''
The General Assembly, which adjourns this week, restored most of the money. What happens during the April veto session, however, is anyone's guess.
Kari Walter, spokeswoman for Secretary of Education Beverly Sgro - Tech's former dean of students - says Allen's budget did not touch the students in the classroom.
``That's one of the most basic questions this administration asked itself when it proposed the budget,'' Walter said.
But many on campus would argue that Allen's cuts, such as a $7.3 million hit to Virginia Cooperative Extension, would have touched students. Professors in such unexpected places as the College of Human Resources are paid partially by extension funding.
``This latest proposed budget cut by the administration has been particularly devastating for a couple of reasons: We were led to believe with our successful restructuring, there would be no more budget restrictions. And that obviously is not true,'' Tech President Paul Torgersen said.
``And then I think, some of the reductions over the past few years have not been painful because there has been room for maneuvering. I think that room is now gone,'' he said.
The state-supported growth days are over.
``I think the realization has now set in,'' Torgersen said. ``We have, and will continue to face, fairly serious budget restrictions. That has to discourage people. It certainly discourages me.''
Rank-and-file workers are tired, too.
``It seems like every year - and it started back with Wilder - right before Christmas, when the [state] budget would come out, people got afraid you were going to lose your job,'' said a secretary in the College of Engineering.
``It makes Christmas miserable,'' said the woman, who didn't want her name to be used. ``I would be too afraid of what would happen to me. In these days of budget cuts and things, they can do away with your position in a heartbeat.''
At least the Wilder cuts could be attributed to a bad economy, one professor said.
``Now, when the trade-off is between us and prisons, and they choose prisons, it makes you wonder,'' said Thirwall ``Hap'' Bonham, associate dean for the Pamplin College of Business.
But faculty and staff aren't frustrated by the money crunch alone.
Allen's mandates, issued to control government spending, restrict employee travel reimbursements - and add paperwork to travel requests. Ditto the exemptions to the 2-month-old state hiring freeze. Ann Spencer, associate vice president and the university's point woman for hiring, spends half her time working on exemption applications.
``All we're trying to do is keep track of full-time jobs,'' Walter, Sgro's spokeswoman, said. ``We're not trying to tell them who they can hire and who they can't hire.''
Says assistant provost Pat Hyer: ``I think we would find it easier to respond to much more macro-level [management] from the government.''
Hovering over everyone's head, meantime, is the threat of layoffs this spring, as Allen tries to shrink the public payroll by 16,000.
Try to survive
A year ago, as part of its state-ordered, post-recession downsizing, Virginia Tech offered a buyout of its own to faculty.
Ten percent of 1,470 eligible professors grabbed the brass parachute - 110 tenured professors with an average of 231/2 years at Tech.
Education's Creamer, nearing 59, considered it but concluded he couldn't afford to leave just yet.
``If the buyout is attractive at all financially, you nearly feel like you have to take it,'' is how Creamer, chairman of the Commission on Faculty Affairs, described the current atmosphere. ``In the past, you might have reasoned, `I like this work, I find it rewarding.' Now you feel like you have to abandon ship to protect your own personal and family security.''
The agriculture and education colleges are widely seen as the two schools within the university that have suffered most under restructuring. A year ago, then-Provost Fred Carlisle ordered the education college to cut $1.6 million, or 20 percent, over three years.
``I don't scream and rail about this, because I accept reality,'' Creamer said. ``But our energies are constantly diverted from the reality of teaching people ... to survival tactics.''
Creamer is struggling to find money to retain the second faculty member in his program, called college student affairs, to comply with basic standards in the field. He's blunt about where funding would come from:
``Somebody else's program.
``That's what [downsizing] does, it sets up competition from somebody else's resources...,'' he said.
People at the College of Education agree that Wayne Worner, the interim dean, did a masterful job of leading the inevitable change. And all agree that it's best to adjust to the new circumstances and move on.
``If you sense morale is low, you'll see it turn around,'' assuming we're not out of business,'' said Kerry Redican, a professor whose health education program was gutted. ``I have a lot of faith in Paul Torgersen. Right now, it's going to be a bumpy ride.''
Keep cutting
The list of changes goes on and on.
The business college is cutting doctoral students by up to 50 percent - each of its five departments is now enrolling new classes of only five to six students - and only every other year. The reason? Colleges end up paying for doctoral candidates, who teach classes and receive tuition breaks.
The new travel restrictions, limiting overnight and meal costs, require a pre-approval form for travel costing more than $500 - hundreds of forms a year, said Larry Lawrence, manager of accounting service . But the rules have spawned an odd byproduct: A university staffer now is limited to $5 for a Blacksburg business lunch with, say, a job prospect. They can go up to $7.50 with a written explanation, down from a $10 former limit.
``I think that's not so much of a problem as the micromanagement aspect,'' said Robert Sumichrast, an assistant professor of business.
``I guess when I think about all the money [the state] put into publicizing the new rules and enforcing the new rules, I can't imagine that's cost-effective,'' he said.
It shouldn't take a week to change a light bulb. But that's about what it comes down to for many professors who use projectors of every kind in Tech's 230 classrooms.
``If faculty calls us and says, `Hey, I burnt up the last lamp. I need somebody to bring a lamp,' the simplest, easiest way is to send a student and give them a bag of lamps,'' said Win Barton, who runs the campuswide audio-visual service, complete with pickup, delivery and maintenance of the hundreds of TV sets and slide, video, movie and overhead projectors.
The problem is, his work-study funds have been chopped, so Barton has no students to send. That means bulb-changing duties fall to a shrinking, overloaded staff of four technicians, or to the professor, who may or may not know the way around the insides of the projector.
``If I'm there within a week now, you're lucky,'' Barton said.
Tech spokesman Larry Hincker says there's no malaise across the entire campus but agrees that the years of change are taking their toll.
``We are concerned; there's no question we're concerned,'' he said. ``Certainly, there is a degree of frustration out there.''
Workers believe the state government isn't supportive, he said. The good news is that ``faculty are loyal to their discipline, and classified employees are loyal to this institution.''
That may sustain the school for now, as it breathes a sigh of relief over relatively good legislative news for this year. But there's always next year. Assistant Provost Pat Hyer said the best thing the school can do for morale is to open up.
``Sharing what news there is to be shared is a very high priority for us,'' she said. ``We do not want to conduct anything in secret. In some sense, that's what we think we're doing for morale - make sure people have as much say as they can about the situation.''
Torgersen, who still sees optimism on campus, agreed:
``I think you have to be upfront about these things. Faculty are involved. It's their future.''
Then there is Barton, whose cap says, ``No whining.''
by CNB