Penn State founded for working class
interview with Seth Williams

Voices talked to Williams about what’s changed—and what hasn’t—at Penn State since his days in Happy Valley.

Williams: At the time, the tuition rate was rising faster than the Higher Education Price Index, the college version of the Consumer Price Index.

Penn State was created to provide a quality and affordable education for the sons and daughters of the working class, not to be a boutique institution for just the rich. So what’s the justification for the tuition rate rising so high?

They’re getting all this money from the state and demanding all this money from students, but they have a closed budget. Whether we were pushing for more funding for the recruitment and retention of African-American students or funding for women’s studies, we were at a loss because we didn’t know what the budget was.

Williams: They didn’t think they needed to. Then lawmakers started saying, "Yeah, you want more money but don’t want to tell us how it’s spent."

There are certain things in the CIA’s budget that we don’t want public because we don’t want people to know what the CIA is doing. No one could say that there’s something so secretive or of such sensitive nature at Penn State that we can’t disclose it.

We were able to rally support among everyone—whether they were black or white, from Philadelphia County or Lackawanna County—because the issue resonates with everyone.

Williams: Is Penn State in the business of just being a free marketplace, an enterprise? Or is it in the business of living up to its mission as a land grant institution?

Penn State is not Corporate College Inc. It’s supposed to be a quality place for the working class.

But there are different ways of interpreting what’s in the best interest of the students, and I’m sure he’s doing what he thinks is right.

Williams: Another big issue was the recruitment and retention of African-American students and faculty. We went to meet with President Jordan, and he didn’t want to meet with us.

That was the first time I got arrested in Old Main. I was up on the second floor, sitting against a wall, with my hands cuffed behind my back, staring at the land-grant frescos. That is burned in my mind.

Later, Jordan agreed to meet with us, but then he didn’t show up. We walked from where we were supposed to be meeting with him, the Paul Robeson Cultural Center, to the Telecommunications Building and sat down and said we were going to stay until Jordan talked to us. The building was symbolic of our desire to communicate. We weren’t cursing or being rowdy. We just wanted to talk.

Instead of coming to speak with us, Jordan sends in the state troopers. Then I’m on TV with Dan Rather. Three hundred people went into the building. Most students left to avoid arrest. Eighty-eight were arrested.

We were also involved in divestment from South Africa. Our motto was, "Apartheid kills and Penn State pays the bills." The administration maintained that keeping the money in South Africa actually helped South Africans, which was a morally bankrupt argument.

Williams: We were like a lone voice against the wilderness. Everything in Central Pennsylvania was pro–Penn State. I wasn’t anti–Penn State. I love Penn State.

My dad went there in the 1940s, after World War II. He was one of 12 African-American men, all varsity athletes. There was nowhere for them to live on campus. They weren’t allowed to get their hair cut in barbershops in downtown State College. They organized sit-ins to protest the inhumane treatment of guys who had been willing to give their lives for this country in WWII.

I understood the history of the place. If there are inconsistencies, then it’s up to us to make things right. It’s not that I hated Penn State. I thought it had an opportunity to be an even better place.

My parents taught me that either you’re willing to work to correct things if you see injustice, if you see problems, or you forfeit your right to complain about them.

We would do things that were entirely legal. But if you have so many people doing this legal thing, it can shut the system down.

We had 300 or 400 students go down to the intersection of College Avenue and Garner Street. The students were split into four different groups, and everybody was just walking with the light. When the light turns green, they’re walking. Nobody’s jaywalking because everybody’s going with the light.

We had about 200 students go to the bursar’s office. Everybody asks for something they have to give you that’s free, like a copy of your bill. There are three tellers and 200 people asking for the same thing. It shuts everything down. Nothing that was illegal, nothing to get students in trouble. Students were asking for something that was legitimately theirs. But it shut the system down.

If you see things that you think need to be changed, it’s up to you then and there to fight for what you think is right. And you can have a great time doing it. A lot of students choose to go out and drink. That’s cool. I’m not saying don’t have fun. But I hung out with guys trying to change the world. And that got me as many girls as the guys on the varsity football team. My activism also helped me get into law school.

Williams: Penn State has become a much more open institution than when I was a student, and a lot of the things I protested for actually became reality, like a vice provost for educational equity and African-American and women’s studies.

Penn State is a good place, but it can always be better. And if it isn’t living up to its mission, then we should try to change that.

If I could have any job, I would like to be the president of Penn State. Not that I want to be president of any university. Being the president of Penn State would be a great opportunity to impact the lives of the working class, those often forgotten about in the shadow of life.

Williams: Fight on State!