A Noncredit Reading Test

These days, more mail deliveries than not include at least one sales pitch for a credit or debit card. At my house, three or four such offers arrive every week. Recently, a $100 check was enclosed in one. Cash this, and you have our card, it said.

I didn’t cash it.

My son David, a year out of Berkeley and earning a modest salary, recently was offered a card with a $10,000 credit limit. With one card already, he passed, recognizing he needs more debt before grad school like a hole in the head.

My Times colleague Richard Colvin didn’t want a card he was offered either. But he interrupted dinner to say a few noncommittal words to a telemarketer. He got a card anyway and has been fruitlessly trying to cancel it.

It’s tough on these peddlers, offering something most folks neither need nor want. But they work hard at it, and every once in a while, someone is really inventive.

Here’s a doozy! Matthew Levenson, a University of Pennsylvania dropout, is hitting for the fences.

Levenson’s company has sent a nationwide mailing to 1.5 million households with incoming college freshmen offering a “Campus Card” described in the official-looking solicitation letter as the “identification card issued to all registered college students.” At first blush, the letter seems associated with the student’s new school.

The card “is required for many services and purchasing privileges at whichever college or university your student chooses to attend,” parents are told.

The letter comes from Princeton, N.J., home of the SAT, and carries the high-sounding name, National College Registration Board.

A $25 fee is due for this “essential part of a student’s everyday life [that] should be carried at all times.” If the $25 is not paid by May 15, “late fees may apply,” the letter warns.

It is not until one reads the rest of the message that it becomes clear--and then only with difficulty--what really is for sale is a debit card. Deposits must be made before it is usable.

It seems Levenson reached too far. Some very prestigious schools object to his sales tactics.

At Stanford, Robert Kinnelly, dean of undergraduate admission and financial aid, declared, “We feel that the tone of the solicitation letter is extremely misleading. We want parents and students to know that this card has no connection whatsoever with Stanford . . . and it is in no way required.”

Harvard warned all of its incoming freshmen in writing that “commercial firms with no connection to any college or university” are targeting “students throughout the country with mailings designed to persuade you and your family that you ‘must’ have this or that.” Check first if in doubt, it advised.

Iowa Atty. Gen. Tom Miller demanded that Levenson refund any money from Iowans, saying, “We are not aware of any public or private university in Iowa that honors the card.”

Meanwhile, all three academic groups Levenson listed as “member associations” issued disclaimers.

The National Assn. of College and University Business Officers declared it “does not in any way endorse the product. . . . Our name was used without permission or notification.”

Lyn White, director of the National Assn. of Campus Card Users, said it was like “selling swampland in Florida.” She said the associations had induced Levenson to issue a clarification.

Levenson did not return several calls from me. But in the signed three-page clarification, he retracted several claims. The clarification did not go out to the 1.5 million who received the letter.

Nonetheless, he now concedes, “The Campus Card is a separate ‘off-campus’ debit card and discount program that has no relationship with any campus or school ID program and is not required by any college or university.”

While the mailing said “your Campus Card ID is specific to your own school” and showed a sample “Wolverine Card” labeled “University of Michigan,” Levenson acknowledges: “Until we reach an agreement with the appropriate entities, school names, logos, slogans and mascots will not be used . . . in the Campus Card.”

He added, “If any student feels that he or she registered for a Campus Card without fully understanding the nature of the services offered, we will refund the student’s [$25] registration fee.”

He said there is “a reasonable time period” to apply for refunds, but didn’t define “reasonable.”

It sounds as if Levenson is in a reasonable retreat. My editor wondered, however, what federal regulation applies in this case. Could just anyone send out such a letter to 1.5 million across the United States soliciting deposits of funds without being subject to the banking laws?

In fact, Levenson may have succeeded in falling through the cracks. By never naming what financial institution would issue the card, he left unclear which of several federal agencies--the Comptroller of the Currency, the Federal Reserve Board, the Office of Thrift Supervision or the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp.--would have regulatory jurisdiction over his activities.

The Federal Trade Commission does have authority to move against “unfair or deceptive acts or practices that affect commerce.”

An official there, asking anonymity, declared, “The commission is certainly concerned about any deceptive solicitation to pull people into debit cards.” As for failing to identify the card issuer, the official said it may be there isn’t any yet.

“They may hope to parlay the number of $25 commitments they get to convince some institution to come in,” he said.

I would have asked Levenson whether this was so, if he ever had answered my calls.

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Reich can be contacted with your accounts of true consumer adventure at (213) 237-7060, or by e-mail at ken.reich@latimes.com