CSUN President Mixes Personality and Power : Education: Blenda Wilson envisions a highly skilled, diverse student body. She faces cutbacks.

The president of Cal State Northridge has been running late all day, and at 15 minutes after 5 p.m. she still hasn’t caught up--wandering lost on the third floor of Sierra Hall North in search of a class she is scheduled to address.

It is a senior seminar in women’s studies, and as she scans room numbers while walking down the hallway she is also answering a reporter’s question about why--though married--she has no children.

It is the sort of question asked often of Blenda Jacqueline Wilson, the nation’s only African-American woman to head a university of more than 25,000 students, and one of only 25 black women to be in charge of any of the 3,800 or so colleges and universities in the country.

In September, Wilson took over the suburban, largely Anglo campus that, like its sisters in the 20-campus California State University system, is undergoing a painful transformation brought about by dwindling tax support, a changing student body and a sputtering state economy uncertain about the kind of graduates it can employ.

In taking the Northridge job, Wilson became the highest paid of the CSU presidents, earning $134,800 a year.

She is, apparently, also accustomed to scrutiny because of her rare status and does not take offense at the question about having no children.

“I was 44 when I married; it passed me by,” said Wilson, 51. “I do miss something. But I would have missed something else if I had children. . . . Maybe you can’t have it all.”

The students in Room 318, all except one a woman, have more inquiries: How does it feel to be a woman with so much power? Have you been stereotyped? Do you have to deal with sexism and racism? Did you have to develop a style that is more male and aggressive?

Although Wilson has spent most of her career as an administrator, once inside a classroom she quickly becomes a favorite teacher: engaging, truthful, funny and a little strict--”I generally don’t like students to call me Blenda.”

And in an hour, women’s studies professor Elizabeth Berry’s students elicit some of the most telling details of Wilson’s personality--information that faculty, staff and the media have been seeking for the past seven months.

Being a university president, having the power to eliminate entire departments--even the football team--is at turns affirming, a little scary and “lately, it’s felt very burdensome,” Wilson tells the students, by now leaning forward at their desks.

Racism? Sexism? Wilson tells the students she experiences those almost every day, but it no longer bothers her much.

“It’s like asking, ‘How you deal with snow in winter?’ ” said Wilson, a lifelong resident of four-season cities. “It’s part of the landscape. . . . I see them as so pervasive in my life that it doesn’t generate much emotion at all. The ‘normal’ racism, people who look at you funny, who demean you by not using your title--that does not generate any feelings at all.”

Wilson said that as a woman holding a top position in the traditionally male-dominated field of academic administration, “I bite my nails 24 hours a day trying to be good.” At the same time, many men have the luxury of “being really bad at what they do and nothing happens.”

Such talk draws approval and nodding heads from the students.

Success also costs. So far, Wilson said, she’s taken off two days from university business since coming to Northridge--Thanksgiving and Christmas.

“I say to women, ‘You can have it all but you can’t have it all at once or all in abundance,’ ” Wilson told the students.

As she’s done all day, Wilson’s words overshadow her tardiness or the nervous fretting of subordinates or the gripes of faculty or just about anything else in the way of her goal to reshape Cal State Northridge in time for the 21st Century.

A typical day is long and likely to include at least one speech about redefining higher education, serving the community and--bottom line--the school’s responsibility to graduate ready-to-work citizens of all colors and from all economic levels.

“The measure of an institution is not the skills that students have when they come to us, but what they have when they leave,” Wilson said.

The same could be said about the measure of a university president: How do they leave a campus?

Many at the University of Michigan at Dearborn, where Wilson was chancellor before coming to CSUN, give her high marks in forcing the school to pay more attention to how money is spent and improving campus relations with the outside community--corporate donors, as well as inner-city high schools.

Private donations went up and the percentage of minority students and faculty increased during Wilson’s four years there.

Critics at the 8,000-student Dearborn campus said she spent too much time away from campus and did not give academics--meaning professors--due respect, charges also voiced at CSUN.

Wilson earlier this year said cuts in state funding next year could force layoffs of tenured professors. Then she sparked some faculty protest when she refused to guarantee that professors would be spared ahead of other campus employees such as clerks and gardeners.

She later reaffirmed the school’s commitment to intercollegiate athletics, including the football team, a costly endeavor that many in the faculty said should be eliminated. Although she is not a sports fan, Wilson said she believes that the surrounding community will support the decision to field such teams, by either donating money or attending games.

Wilson in February finally told the school’s Faculty Senate, “This is not an employment agency, this is a university,” a sentence repeated around campus and one that seemed to quell open rebellion.

When she first came to Los Angeles for the CSUN job, Wilson told a small group of faculty, “You don’t know how lucky you are,” said Louise Lewis, the school’s faculty president. “We all thought she was crazy.”

Like the recession that first started in the Northeast and eventually spread to California, the money troubles experienced at public universities in the rest of the country at the end of the 1980s finally landed hard in the Golden State in the 1990s.

Wilson has said she will not implement across-the-board cuts to balance the budget, which means some academic departments will feel the knife more than others.

She speaks often of long-range planning but no one is sure what she wants the campus to be like in five years. What courses of study will be eliminated, which ones expanded? What is the image of the university supposed to be?

Wilson says, in essence, that the school and community will decide. She has also hired a private consultant to help figure some of that out.

For now, most on campus worry about what it will be like by fall.

State budget cuts this past school year prompted the cancellation of more than 1,000 classes at the school, which is shrinking from its 30,000-student enrollment of past years.

And faculty members who were promised jobs for life now face the prospect that they will be out of work.

Wilson has also drawn criticism for spending $35,000 of campus funds for her inauguration and campus open house planned Friday. The rest of the money, products and services needed to put on the daylong event--which includes a buffet luncheon for 2,000 and pre-inaugural parties--is being donated. A university spokeswoman said the total bills for the day had not been added up yet.

While that is only a tiny part of the school’s $100-million or so general fund budget, many complain that, given the budget circumstances, it is a frivolous expense.

During a recent faculty coffee at Wilson’s large, ranch-style Northridge home that the university bought for her use, everybody is nonetheless on their best behavior.

Despite the backdrop of economic disaster, there is a pleasant congeniality to the morning event. Coffee, juice, rolls and fruit are served. Professors admire the African masks, liquid graphite drawings, modern art pieces and sculptures in the home that Wilson shares with her husband, Louis Fair. Coffee table books include “Portraits of Black Women Who Changed America” and a children’s book by Alice Walker.

Later, only half-joking, Wilson said most professors who attend the early morning sessions--she’s hosted nine so far--ask the same question different ways: “Dr. Wilson, how personally do you care about my department?”

There is respect mixed with the fears. Wilson this year has not backed away from speaking directly to groups of angry faculty and students. She faced off with more than 200 shouting, mostly Chicano students during a demonstration earlier this year to protest the reinstatement of a campus fraternity charged with breaking school rules against racism.

The fraternity, Zeta Beta Tau, distributed a party flyer that made reference to a drinking song about a fictional Mexican prostitute.

Wilson, despite her own personal battles with racism and sexism, reinstated the fraternity on the advice of CSU attorneys after the fraternity sued the campus on First Amendment grounds. The reason is that CSUN would surely lose the potentially costly lawsuit, she said.

While the furor over that incident has died down, the problem has not gone away. Despite being in the middle of a region of growing ethnic diversity, the CSUN campus is for many students the first exposure to such a mix of cultures and races and incomes.

But besides students, nobody wants to publicly criticize Wilson these days. Not while a shakedown is under way and there is talk of hiring instructors with master’s degrees instead of doctorates. And not when the library is buying one-third the number of books it purchased in 1980.

In the meantime, Wilson seems to be doing her part to drum up business. She plans to expand the school’s fund-raising arm, and spends much of her time speaking to corporations, at city halls and to local groups of every kind.

At a recent visit to the headquarters of Hughes Aircraft Co., Wilson made a pitch for support to a friendly audience. The firm’s chief financial officer, Charles Noski, is a CSUN graduate and the company is a past donor to the campus.

Wilson and her entourage are running late for the luncheon appointment but she emerges from the meeting smiling. “We’ll get something,” she said.

Meeting with alumni, both the powerful and average, is one of Wilson’s priorities. She’s even made personal telephone calls to solicit donations from rank-and-file CSUN graduates.

Back in the car, it’s 2:15 p.m. and she calls the campus to tell one of her vice presidents that she is going to miss a 1:30 p.m. meeting. She returns in time to sign some correspondence and attend an induction ceremony for the academic honor society Phi Kappa Phi.

Wilson enters the school’s University Club at the moment she is being introduced and without breaking stride is at the lectern and speaking. Her day won’t end until much later that night, after the Phi Beta Delta banquet.

“She’s the busiest person I’ve ever worked for,” said Sue Thompson, Wilson’s personal assistant. Thompson is in charge of preparing Wilson’s daily schedule, which is attached to manila folders containing background information for each event.

The orderly nature of her schedule, her office and her home are a sharp contrast with the unruly and unpredictable nature of California public universities these days. But she seems certain that she can straighten things out.

“I don’t have any doubts because society doesn’t have any choice,” said Wilson, lecturing now in the manner of a schoolteacher. “We have to invest in young people.”

Blenda J. Wilson

Title: President, Cal State Northridge.

Age: 52.

Residence: Northridge.

Education: B.A., English and secondary education, Cedar Crest College, 1962. M.A., education, Seton Hall University, 1965. Ph.D, higher education administration, Boston College, 1979.

Career Highlights: Chancellor, University of Michigan-Dearborn, 1988-1992. Executive director, Colorado Commission on Higher Education, 1984-1988. Vice president, Independent Sector, a national association of charitable organizations, 1982-1984. Also held administrative positions at Harvard and Rutgers universities. Current chairwoman of the American Assn. for Higher Education. A trustee of the 21-member board of directors of Northridge Hospital Medical Center.