Stanford Could Show Imelda a Thing or Two

Item from Purchase Order 5204720, submitted by Stanford University to the federal government for reimbursement:

Mme de Pompadour Fabric for Upstairs Sitting Room: . . . . . . $2,359.80

Now there are some things we know about the Madame de Pompadour fabric, and some things we don’t. We know that it adorns the official residence of Donald Kennedy, president of Stanford. But what it looks like, how it’s displayed, we don’t know.

Nor do we know who picked it out. Or what qualities justify its splendid price.

As you can see, the stuff we don’t know outweighs the stuff we know. And although it might seem indelicate to inquire about a couple’s private sitting room, we should not forget that all of us have a stake in this item. We paid for 22.9% of that fabric. That was the percentage of reimbursement that Stanford received from the government.

As the payers, I think, we have the right to ask what we got for our money.

If you’ve missed the follies under way at Stanford, it comes down to this: Stanford U., home of the best and the brightest on the Pacific slope, has been caught in some dirty business that resembles the defense contractor scandals of the 1980s.

It seems that Stanford, like most big-time universities, conducts research on many fronts for the government. Most of it gets done for the Defense Department. As standard practice, the university is allowed to charge the government for a percentage of its overhead expense in addition to the research costs.

That’s where the trouble lies. Stanford’s definition of “overhead” has revealed itself to be unusually imaginative. In addition to the normal stuff such as secretarial help and office machines, Stanford has billed the government for a $20,000 wedding reception, a 72-foot yacht, refurbishments of a grand piano and, of course, the Madame de Pompadour fabric.

All told, there are millions of dollars in Stanford charges now being investigated by the government. We should acknowledge that other universities also may be swept into this scandal in the coming weeks. Right now, though, Stanford is in a class by itself.

As with all of the very best scandals, the Stanford affair is not merely wicked. It’s educational. Through the device of the scandal, we are learning about a slice of life at Stanford--and, by extension, at many other universities--heretofore hidden from view.

Who would have thought, for example, that academics would have such a taste for the sweet luxuries of life? These people lived liked pashas. Actually, “pasha” is not quite right. It’s more like Imelda Marcos.

Take the linens, for example. There was a $7,000 bill for household linens at the Kennedy residence. Then there was the football lunch, a little affair for 10 that came to $4,323.90.

Or the 1920s French crystal at the residence, or the George II lead urns, or the trips to the university retreat in the Sierra, where the trustees ran up $1,485 in “fountain charges.”

That’s a lot of milkshakes. In any case, you get the idea. It was all submitted for reimbursement, and we paid our share.

All of which brings up the second educational matter. You might be wondering just how this was allowed to happen, and who will turn out to be the crook.

Kennedy, the president? Or maybe the university’s controller, who passed along the items as legitimate overhead expenses?

The answer, most likely, is neither. There is a good chance, in fact, no crook will be found. That’s because most of these reimbursements were legal.

The fact that Stanford is repaying the government for some of these expenses does not alter that fact. They are doing so for reasons of propriety, not the law.

Our government, you see, had agreed that Kennedy’s official residence constituted legitimate overhead for research. Never mind that the decision was laughable. They did it.

And for nine years, our government never even bothered to audit the expenses. They received the bill, calculated their 22.9%, and paid. That is, we paid.

The government was winking at Stanford, begging to be played for a dupe. And Stanford obliged. At the University, it was carpe diem time.

As someone once said about a scandal in Washington, D.C., the amazing thing is not the illegalities. It’s the discovery of what’s perfectly legal, what’s done every day with the blessing of the law.

Stanford has taught us that lesson again. And hey, what else is a great university for, anyway?