Cal State Northridge Went $49 Too Far

A funny thing happened on my way to Stanford. I got a scholarship--a state scholarship that was based on financial need and academics. A letter arrived in the mail that was clearly marked “Stanford” and clearly stated “$2,500.”

Now, $2,500 is a nice chunk of change. But in the mid-1970s, this 17-year-old high school senior thought he’d hit the mother lode. In those bygone days at “The Farm,” the scholarship was about a third of a student’s minimum expenses. Suddenly, Stanford was affordable. My spirits soared. I felt giddy, dizzy, blissful. With my mind’s eye, I saw the brilliant young scholar in his tweed coat striding across the misty campus, thinking profound thoughts. I could see myself at the Rose Bowl, cheering on the Thunderchickens.

Several minutes passed before I gave the letter a closer read. There was a catch: To qualify for the scholarship, I would have to be accepted for admission.

This was, as things turned out, a hell of a catch. And at Cal State Fullerton, my state scholarship was downgraded to $200. This wasn’t close to one-third of my living expenses, but it was enough to cover my first year’s tuition. Rent was only $52.50 per month--or one-quarter of a $210 apartment shared with three roommates. And yet money was always tight, since those part-time jobs paid just a bit more than minimum wage.

Pardon my nostalgia, but two recent news events got me thinking about the plight of college students today, or perhaps the plight of their parents. Everyone knows that the cost of higher education has gone bonkers. At a Nieman-Marcus university like Stanford, tuition is now a gazillion dollars per year. And at those humble, Sears-like institutions such as my alma mater and Cal State Northridge, students now pay close to $1,800 per year.

Last week, Northridge students said enough was enough. They refused to tax themselves an extra $49 to support intercollegiate athletics. Unfortunately, their opinion may not influence the Cal State trustees who voted to ask the Legislature for another 10% increase in student fees next year. This would add another $156 to a price tag that now ranges from $1,700 to $2,070. And it would mean that the total fees have doubled in only five years.

All considered, it’s still a bargain. But when you add the living costs, it’s not hard to understand why Northridge students decided to scrimp and save. What’s surprising is that the Matador athletes and their supporters made this ballot as close as it was. The final score was 2,315 against, 2,116 in favor. The Matadors have never taken a defeat harder.

“Your emotions on something like this are all over the map,” said Bob Hiegert, the Northridge athletic director. “On the positive side, I’m very proud of what our students have done, and our coaches. . . . Everyone worked as hard as they could on it. . . . This was a stacked deck and a tough call to start with.”

Hiegert is a soft-spoken man who sounded a bit like the coach in the losers’ locker room of the Super Bowl. From his perspective, however, the stakes were much higher. As a coach here for 29 years, the last 16 as athletic director, Hiegert is one of the people who have built this program. Laboring in the shadows of UCLA and USC, Northridge achieved 34 various national titles at the NCAA’s Division II level before graduating to Division I five years ago. In 1992, the men’s volleyball team was a runner-up to UCLA for the national title, and last year the women’s softball team likewise made it to the finals. Hiegert and his coaches believed the $49 fee could propel the program to greater glory.

Now, instead, Hiegert faces the likelihood of having to dismantle part of this program. Football is thought to be particularly vulnerable; after all, Cal State Fullerton and Cal State Long Beach have already done away with theirs.

There are a number of reasons the Matadors may be forced to eliminate teams. The recession, declining enrollment and the Jan. 17 earthquake all hurt student funding, gate receipts and booster support. And meanwhile, like many other universities, Northridge was facing a court order requiring it to better balance the number of athletic scholarship offers to men and women. Although women compose 53% of the student body, they receive only 37% of the athletic scholarship money.

If Matador football is eliminated, it might be fun to blame the women’s movement, and many feminists would surely be pleased. Or maybe we could blame it on politicians who have taken money from higher education to feed the prison-building habit. Here’s a telling stat: From 1989 to 1993, the state Department of Corrections added 8,600 full-time employees, while California’s colleges and universities lost 10,300.

And there’s always the economy. California is rumored to be heading out of the recession, but the state’s college students are lagging behind.

“The point isn’t that it’s about $100 a year,” Laura Alahverdi, an 18-year-old sophomore, told me last week at the student union. “The point is they keep taking money from us. If we give them this, they’ll want more. They keep wanting more and more and more.”

Jan Woodrow, a 31-year-old junior, points out that many “returning students” such as herself may be too busy to care about Northridge teams: “They’re married, have families. . . . They have other things to worry about.”

Coaches, university officials and boosters say that intercollegiate athletics, beyond the benefits to the athletes themselves, are a valuable means to promote the university and community. Hiegert also talks about “the total university experience,” which is what I expected from Stanford, but not Fullerton. Truth is, I never attended a Titan football game, and I don’t know many people who did. Basketball, however, was another matter.

Perhaps it’s hard to put a dollar sign on school spirit, but at Northridge, $49 proved a bit steep.

Hiegert, for all his disappointment, understood the students’ financial concerns. When he enrolled at Northridge back in 1959, back when it was called San Fernando Valley State College, he paid tuition and fees of $39 per semester. And he didn’t like it one bit when they raised it to $51.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday.