University Press Maintains 40-Year Standards Despite Confusion With Poster, Exam Printers

After four decades of changing its directors and publishing policies, the Harvard University Press is sure of only two things: a high place in the publishing trade and its local confusion with the Harvard Printing Office. Never the proprietor of actual printing presses, the Press has long been identified by students as the place where posters, exam schedules and the like are made up. "Just once," complains a Press official, "I'd like the subject of my job to come up at a party without being congratulated for the clever way in which we manage to keep track of all the times and places that courses meet."

The Press and Printing Office were run as one organization until 1942. But even then, although nominally a unit, they operated separately, since the publishing the printing ends of the book business are quite distinct. In fact, most of today's large publishing houses have either given up their presses or keep them as subsidiary organs.

Historically, printing had been connected closely with Harvard long before the University ever did much for itself. A British minister, Jose Glover, set off from London near the beginning of the 17th century accompanied by his wife, a press and a trivial collection of type. His dreams of editorial glory ended as he died on ship board, but Mrs. Glover set up shop with the assistance of Stephen Day, a worker who had come with her husband.

Smitten with admiration for her pluck and for her thriving little print shop, Harvard President Holyoke married the former Mrs. Glover. His admiration for her business acumen and the monopoly she enjoyed in the trade made him throw the University's printing her way. In addition, her shop printed such books as the bay Pslam Book and the Bible in an Indian dialect.

After Mrs. Glover-Holyoke and Stephen Day died, there is a long lapse in the history of Harvard printing. Then, in 1803, a man named Hilliard began a printing shop in Cambridge called the University Press. Actually, his shop was not connected with the University by even the tenuous bonds of marriage, but he did do most job printing for Harvard.

"University Press" Arrives

Then, in 1860, the firm of John Wilson and Son bought out Hilliard's interest and the name "University Press." Under the new management, with such men as Charles Folsom and Charles Metcalf, the University Press became nationally famous. Increased stores of type, ranging through Greek, Hebrew, German and old English, and new designs made an artistic reputation for the firm that equalled its business success. A chronicler of the University Press, writing for an alumni magazine at the end of the 19th century, said, "From the commencement of the present century almost all the original works of our greatest New England authors . . . come from this press." These was still no Harvard Press.

But while New England's authors, including University professors, were flocking to have their works set up on Mr. Wilson's presses, Harvard was burgeoning under the amiable dictatorship of President Eliot. By 1872, the revolutionary elective system had so widened the scope and number of course that an unseen difficulty arose. It was no longer possible to chalk up examinations on the blackboard, and nothing but printed exams seemed ractical. So, in that year, Eliot bought himself a press and the services of a second-rate journeyman printer, installing them both in a nook of University Hall's basement. All was well, for a while, and Harvard was launched on a printing career. But within a year or two Eliot discovered that his printer was supplementing his wages by selling copies of the exams to students even before the proofs were delivered to the professors. Believing this practise harmful to College morale, Eliot fired the printer, and looked about for a successor.

Adam K. Wilson (no relative of the management) was plant supervisor at the University Press when Eliot came there looking for a Harvard printer. An eminent craftsman, Wilson was fine choice, and remained chief printer for Harvard until his retirement in 1931. From the beginning of Wilson's stay until the late '90's the Printing Office grew in importance, doing all of the University's job printing, and finally printing the University Catalogue. It grew so rapidly that J. Bertram William '77 was appointed as publication agent to smooth over public relations between the Printing Office and faculty members, who were not used to being told where they should send their printing.

Upon William's death in 1908, C. Chester Lane '04 took over, to eventually become the first director of the University Press. Formerly with the textbook publishing firm of Ginn and Co., Lane saw that the University was sending a considerable amount of material to outside publishing houses. The Economics and History Departments were regularly putting out their "Studies," and the "Oriental Series" was an established publication.

Yale, Princeton and Chicago already had publishing houses to take care of the increasing number of scholarly manuscripts that professors felt should see print. So, on January 13, 1913, the Corporation voted to establish the Harvard University Press as a publishing outlet for the University. Lane was head of the organization that included the Printing Office--still the special province of Adam Wilson.

Outgrows Quarters

By 1915 Lane's group, including publishing staff and presses, had outgrown its scant University Hall quarters, so when Widener opened for business, the Press took the book-drained space in Randall Hall, which is still the site of the Printing Office. Then, in July, 1932, the Press moved to Quincy Street, and finally to its present quarters on Francis Street in 1949.

In 1916 a young Business School student named David Pottinger '06 took the printing house managing course that had started in '08. When Lane saw that his time for military service was coming, he arranged with pottinger to start working with the Press. Upon Lane's enlistment in 1918, Pottinger took over as acting director until January 1, 1920, when Lane resigned to take a position as business manager with the New York Evening Post.

The Corporation promptly appointed a retired Boston banker, Harold Murdock, director, making Pottinger his assistant. Murdock a book collector and fancier of fine printing, imported the world famous designer, Bruce Rogers, as printing adviser to the Press. Soon the Harvard University Press became equal to the old, Commercial University Press in fame for masterly editions. Pottinger worked closely with Rogers, and when outside duties slowly took Rogers more and more away from the Press, Pottinger did most of the designing. And it is generally conceded that under Pottinger's aegis the Press' reputation far from diminished.

The one difficulty that Murdock faced, with two such excellent designers and managers, was that of finances. Robert Bacon '80, a partner in J. P. Morgan, had verbally promised Lane $50,000, but when he died in France during the First World War he left no will. His estate did not recognize the bequest and by 1920, funds were running low. The policy of printing beautiful editions of books with limited sales appeal meant that the Press was laden with equal parts honor and deficit. As is the case with all university printing plants, the Printing Office was self-supporting, and even showed a tidy profit. But not enough to balance the Press's honor. So Murdock, pleading the Cause of The Fair Name as justification for continuing the Fine Books Policy, hiked the printing fee for the University Departments ten per cent--still a good buy compared to outside houses. He reasoned that the Departments should held support the agency that was so beautifully publishing their dry "Studies."

malone Takes Over

The Press went alone until November, 1933, when ill health forced Murdock's retirement. David Pottinger again took over as acting director until January, 1936, when Dumas Malone was called in to take over, and once again Pottinger accepted the position of associate director. This situation laster until, after repeated requests by Pottinger and the successive directors, the Corporation voted to split the Press from the Printing office, and let it continue with policies set over the years of its association with the Press, except for the abolition of Murdock's ten per cent nest-egg that had, with generally lowered prices, driven the Printing Office fee to the commercial level and sometimes beyond.

In the summer of '43 both Malone and Pottinger left for private publishing houses and Roger Scaife '97, a well-known director of Little, Brown and Co., came on as director. Then, in 1947, the present director, Thomas J. Wilson III, became director. And the Press has continued to flourish,

But behind its success and behind its history lies a basic change in policy and drastic revision of the Press's and Corporation's view of a university publishing house.

When Rogers and Pottinger were de signing books that became valued for their workmanship almost more than for content, the Press was barely surviving from a financial viewpoint. The selection of books lay heavily with the arts and letters, and many of the texis were overly pedantic for even a comparatively wide readership, Many a time the Press would put out a book that was certain to be a commercial failure just because it was so beautiful, crudite and lack-insert.

The group responsible for deciding what books should be published was (and is) the Board, of Syndics affectionately, and not at all accurately, known as the Bored of Cynies. These men, professors from different departments, had to pass on the worth of manuscripts. Thus it would seem that the blame or glory of the Fine Books Policy would rest with them. But they, in turn, were appointed by the President and fellows with the advice of the Press director, and in the days of Lane and Murock, the appointments reflected the eagerness of the Press and Corporation to follow such a policy. George Foot Moore, the famed Divinity School professor, and George Layman Kittredge, equally well known professor of English, were the two glants of the Syndics, and they made sure that there was no nonsense about profit before (publishing) pleasure. Upon one occasion, when a book had achieved almost miraculous success and was selling with the fervor of a Maxwell Bodneheim epic, Moore stomped into a Syndics' meeting a little late. Physically a tremendous man with a booming voice, he slammed the table with a fist and reared, "Well, by God, it's just as I told You-we should never have accepted the book." Profits seemed almost indecent to these men. They were among the finest scholars our country has known, living in a tradition of pure learning and inspired by what they considered worthy and fine, not by what would sell.

When Malone took over in '35, the Syndics resigned as customary, to allow the new director free rain in selecting his board. Only one, Pain Joseph Sachs, was asked back. The new men, while justly famous in their fields, represented a new spirit in the University thinking about the Press. Thomas Barbour, director of the Harvard Museum, was chosen, as was Biology professor Baird Hastings and Economist Edward Mason. Malone, himself, was no professional publisher, but a sometime historian.

But the change was not a sudsen one. In fact, for several years the Syndics had been tending more toward the sciences, including government, economics and sociology. Not that they had lost interest in the arts and letters, but the new topics were on the rise, and the Syndics were great enough to bend with the wind of public interest. They insisted only that the works be scholarly. then, too, the Press was quite rapidly expanding its operations, and every year brought an increase in the number of published titles. Since the star of the arts and letters was waning in comparison to the newer "sciences," there was not a sufficient number of manuscripts to meet the dates without turning to new sources. So the trend began under Murdock.

The Syndics meet once a month to hear reports on the manuscripts that have been submitted. Before considering a book for publication, the Syndics have the opinions of at least two readers-often research fellows or graduate editors. If the book gets by their scrutiny, the syndic in whose special field the book lies reports on its merit and the discussion begins. If one member is opposed to the book, thinking that it does not measure up to the Press's standards, he challenges it, and the Syndics then examine the book quite closely. There is usually unanimity of opinion by the time they have thrashed out the merits of manuscript.

Unlike Professor Moore, the modern Syndics are delighted when a book is well received. But their first concern is still for the maintaining of high standards and the encouragement of scholarly writing in all fields. When a book they selectM-7DAVID POTTINGER '06