Diploma Mills Use Reach of Internet

A licensed architect since 1986, Stephen Corbin always wanted a college degree, saying the lack of a diploma to hang on his wall left him with “an empty feeling.”

Between running his own company--which specializes in public school projects--and raising a family, the Bakersfield resident never had time to polish off his course work. Instead he called a telephone number at the bottom of an e-mail advertisement offering degrees from a European university based on “life experience.”

But the University of San Moritz, which granted him a bachelor’s degree in architecture and a master’s degree in business administration, is one of numerous names used by a worldwide Internet diploma mill that sells phony diplomas, trumped-up transcripts and ersatz honors such as summa cum laude.

“We went through a discussion of what I had done in my profession, running a business and everything like that,” Corbin said. “And they said, ‘Oh yeah, you qualify.’ ”

His degrees cost him $500 in a package deal. The “university” also offered him a doctorate, but that “would have been pushing it too much.” He did allow San Moritz to backdate his architecture degree to 1985 to make it seem as if he had gotten it just before he received his license.

Like its low-tech predecessors that advertised on matchbook covers, the University of San Moritz, which also operates as Glencullen University and the University of Wexford, and numerous other regal-sounding diploma mills prey on ego and greed--college graduates earn 62% more than nongraduates, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

But unlike traditional diploma mills, the online versions exploit the wide reach of the Internet to send millions of e-mail advertisements promising degrees without “tests, classes, books or interviews.... No one is turned down.”

The history of so-called universities that sell degrees without any education or true evaluation of experience goes back at least to the 19th century, said John Bear, coauthor of “Bear’s Guide to Earning Degrees by Distance Learning,” which includes information on diploma mills operating on the Internet.

“Nothing has much changed, except that on the Internet it’s so much easier,” he said. “You can set up a site in an hour and send out e-mails. Then you just need a printing press.”

There may be dozens of these operations, with names such as Earlscroft University, thought to originate in Belgium, and Trinity College and University, with offices in Pakistan and Venezuela. But the Glencullen-Wexford complex is among the slickest.

The online diploma mills create elaborate Web pages that feature pictures of campus buildings, classrooms and student outings. But the images and much of the text often are copied from the Web sites of legitimate universities such as the University of Southampton or University of Teesside in England.

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Question of Legitimacy

Former FBI agent Allen Ezell, who conducts seminars for college registrars on spotting phony transfer credits, scoffed at the notion that a prospective degree buyer could think the “universities” are legitimate.

“If you negotiate for your grade-point average, get a degree backdated and can pay extra for honors, I think your alma mater is of questionable veracity,” he said.

But the digital facade is comforting to prospective degree buyers, Bear said. “In a few cases [customers] have convinced themselves the degree is legitimate.”

They go so far as to list the degrees on personal and work Web pages. Among them: a congressional candidate in Northern California, a rabbi who does family counseling in the San Fernando Valley, an assistant director of financial aid at Occidental College and a student counselor/psychology teacher at College of the Canyons in Santa Clarita.

“There was a time when if someone had a degree from a diploma mill, you would hardly ever hear about it unless somehow it became public,” Bear said. “But now people put it right on their Web sites.”

The congressional candidate and rabbi maintained that they took classes through these institutions. The others acknowledged buying degrees, but said they felt they deserved them.

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Acquiring a Doctorate

“I’ve been around, I’ve paid my dues. I just felt that this was one way of building up my own ego,” said Stu Ferdman, 62, who teaches psychology and is a student counselor at College of the Canyons. He listed a “Doctor of Philosophy Degree in Psychology from Glencullen University” among his credits on the college Web site.

Ferdman earned a conventional bachelor’s degree in psychology and a master’s in counseling from San Diego State. He didn’t want to spend the time or money needed to achieve a regular doctorate. “I could not necessarily afford the $30,000 it would probably take to go through one of the USC or Pepperdine programs,” he said.

He did not find it inappropriate for a college counselor, who advises students on educational and career choices, to buy a doctorate. “I’m fully qualified, I’ve been doing it for 25 years,” he said. “This has nothing to do with the students per se.”

Shortly after Ferdman spoke to The Times, his degree was removed from the college Web site.

Dale Gouph, head of the international unit of the American Assn. of Collegiate Registrars and Admissions Officers, said digital diploma mills do not evaluate life experience in granting degrees. “I’m willing to bet that every applicant, once the fee has been paid, becomes a graduate,” he said.

The multiple university names pose problems for registrars at legitimate colleges weighing the value of transfer credits. “We have seen students try to use transfer credits from places like Glencullen,” Gouph said. “I’m sure some of them slip by, especially at schools where the staff is small and does not have time to investigate every credit.”

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E-Mails From Romania

The global reach of the Internet allows the fake schools to hide behind a complex multinational operation. “The e-mails emanate from Romania, the printing presses are in Jerusalem and wire transfers go to London,” said Ezell, the former FBI agent. In a recent College & University Journal article, he traced the history of the Glencullen group to 1997.

Attempts to reach the universities were unsuccessful. Calls to the telephone numbers on the Glencullen and Wexford sites led to identical recorded messages, even though the schools are supposedly in different countries. There was no response to requests for interviews.

Congressional candidate David LaPere, running on the Democratic ticket in California’s newly drawn 21st District, which includes all of Tulare County and part of Fresno County, said he began taking University of Wexford correspondence classes in 1990, finishing his bachelor’s degree in political science in 1995.

LaPere, who listed the degree on the League of Women Voters district information page, said he chose Wexford--located in Zurich, Switzerland--because “they were one of the few who did take life experience into account.”

Swiss officials doubted Wexford was a real school. The Rectors Conference of Swiss Universities, which acts as a liaison between the government and universities, had no record of Wexford’s existence until 2001, when it began receiving inquiries about the school’s legitimacy.

“I am sure they never offered classes,” said Thomas Tschumperlin, director of admissions at the University of Zurich. “It is a business selling degree packages.”

Tschumperlin visited the street address given by Wexford, finding “a business building, with a shoe and a watch store at street level.” There was no mention of any school in the building directory. Campus pictures on the Wexford site had been from the Web pages of the University of Teesside.

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No Evidence of Classes

Government officials in Oregon, which has the strictest laws in the country regarding the use of academic degrees, said there was no evidence that any of the universities in the Glencullen group, including Wexford, had offered classes. “I don’t think even they would claim that,” said Alan Contreras, head of the state degree authorization office.

LaPere refused to show The Times any of his course work. “That is not acceptable,” he said, ending the interview.

Rabbi Arnold Stiebel, formerly of Temple Beth Torah in Granada Hills, advertises his divorce and family conflict mediation service with a Web page that lists his “Ph.D. in counseling from Glencullen University.”

Contacted by telephone, Stiebel said he preferred not to discuss his Glencullen degree. But he said he took four years of correspondence courses from professors associated with the university. “Most of them were in New Jersey,” Stiebel said. He would not provide contact information for them.

Glencullen could not be visited for answers. The Dublin, Ireland, street address given on its Web site does not exist. The pictures and text on its site had been lifted from the University of Southampton Web site.

Architect Corbin said he regretted buying a San Moritz degree. “I can tell you in retrospect I shouldn’t have done it,” he said. “I thought maybe it would be good for business, but it has not been worth the paper it’s printed on.”

If anyone should know how the education system is supposed to work, it is Frank Reyes, assistant director of financial aid at Occidental College. On Occidental’s site, he claimed a bachelor’s degree from Glencullen. However, the reference has been removed from the site.

Reyes acknowledged buying the degree, but said he believed the claims that he could get it based on his experience and classes he had taken at a computer school. Reyes said he was “stunned” to hear that Glencullen didn’t exist. “I had even thought about taking a trip next year to visit my alma mater.”