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Humanizing the Cold War Campus: The Battle for Hearts and Minds at MIT, 1945-1965 A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA BY Peter Justin Kizilos-Clift IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Elaine Tyler May, Advisor October 2009 © Peter Justin Kizilos-Clift 2009 Acknowledgements First and foremost, I would like to express my heartfelt appreciation to the faculty, staff, and students of the American Studies Department at the University of Minnesota for making my graduate school experience so worthwhile and enjoyable. I shall always be grateful for the resources and support, including a Byron-Turpie Fellowship, Graduate Research Partnership Program grant, and dissertation grant, that made the writing of this dissertation—and my studies in American cultural history—possible. I would also like to thank the Graduate School of the University of Minnesota for the award of a Graduate School Fellowship that financed the first phase in what continues to be an exciting journey of discovery. During the exploratory stages of this adventure, when I was testing the waters as a part-time “adult special” student before plunging into graduate school full-time, I had an opportunity to learn from an outstanding group of U of M scholars (some of whom have since moved on). Professors David Roediger, David W. Noble, Lisa Norling, Barbara Welke, and Kirsten Fischer, immeasurably strengthened my background in 19 th and 20 th century American history and literature and, more importantly, their inspiration and encouragement helped convince me to continue further down the path. Lisa, Barbara, and Kirsten, each of whom was kind enough to read and comment on drafts of my personal narrative, helped me to do more than write a good essay, but also to think more deeply about my academic interests and the kind of scholar I hoped to become. I am especially grateful to the members of my dissertation committee, whom I have always regarded as my “dream team.” My feelings about their individual and collective contributions to this project are akin to those expressed by my five-year-old daughter when she discovered—on a Christmas morning that now seems so long ago— the doll house she wanted so much standing beside the tree: “I got lucky!” I was fortunate indeed to have benefitted from the guidance, insights, ideas, and experience of Elaine Tyler May, Lary May, Sally Gregory Kohlstedt, and Thomas Augst—every step of the way. Not only are each of them outstanding scholars in their respective fields, but, as one of the main characters in my dissertation would have heartily agreed, they i also cared about “students as human beings”—a combination of mind and heart that I certainly do not take for granted. It is impossible to overestimate the value of a good advisor on the path to a doctoral degree. In Elaine Tyler May, I had the best. Her generous and invaluable advice, insight, and perspective helped me stay on track all along the way. In addition to being an outstanding historian and leader in the fields of American history and American Studies, her gift for seeing the diamond in the rough was especially valuable at those moments when I feared the pieces of the story I hoped to tell would never fit together. With her calming influence, wisdom, and perspective, the clouds would part and the sun would start shining again. It was a privilege to serve as her teaching and research assistant, and partner in the University’s Graduate Research Partnership Program that makes it possible for graduate students and faculty members to collaborate on research projects of mutual interest. The grant afforded me the opportunity to make one of several research trips to MIT, where I found so many of the rich, and previously untapped, primary sources that support the dissertation’s main arguments. Her helpful comments and suggestions in response to chapter drafts enabled me to make revisions that substantially improved the final product. I also owe great thanks to Lary May, a distinguished historian of American popular culture, not only for the knowledge and perspective he shared during a year- long research seminar in American cultural history, but for our informal conversations over lunch at the Campus Club and other “fine dining” establishments in the University area. His skill in sorting through the clutter on those occasions helped me stay focused on the “big story” I wanted to tell, despite my penchant for wandering down interesting side streets. I consider my participation in Lary and Elaine’s monthly dissertation writing group a highlight of my academic career. The camaraderie and collegiality fostered in those living room discussions sparked ideas, insights, and constructive criticism that inevitably strengthened my work. Special thanks to John Kinder who, as a fellow participant in these discussions, and my writing partner in the dissertation’s early stages, painstakingly read through many drafts and brought his insightful, critical eye, and considerable writing talent, to the job. ii Thomas Augst and Sally Gregory Kohlstedt both contributed ideas and insights that were critical to my conception of the dissertation and its relationship to humanistic education, literary and rhetorical studies, and the history of science, respectively. Years later, I still ponder the ideas and issues raised in Tom’s extraordinary seminar on the construction of “liberal virtue” in a range of American literary texts, everything from George Washington’s etiquette book to Kate Chopin’s The Awakening and W.E.B. Dubois’s The Souls of Black Folks . The American Studies practicum, which Tom also taught, stimulated me to think about the history of the liberal arts and humanistic education and their relationship to moral development and character formation in higher education. Our lunches at the Campus Club always left me feeling more energized and enthused about my project and eager to keep forging ahead. This project would have been greatly impoverished without the strong encouragement I received from Sally Gregory Kohlstedt, among the most productive, prominent, and widely respected historians of science working today. As a student in two of her history of science seminars, one of which focused on the history of women in the sciences, I also acquired the knowledge base and historical perspective essential to the writing of chapters one and four, and in situating the entire dissertation in the broader history of American science. Her interest in the history of women students at postwar MIT, the initial focus of my project, and the social and moral concerns of scientists and engineers in this period, helped boost my confidence to tackle the project. In the early stages, Sally’s ideas and perspective on its possible contribution to the field of American Studies, based on her own experience of teaching the subject at Simmons College in Boston, were particularly heartening. Though many people helped me think through the ideas and arguments in the dissertation, read and commented upon chapter drafts, and suggested “just one more” (always helpful) secondary source that I might want to take a look at, the responsibility for any errors is, of course, mine alone. I would never have been able to realize my vision of “Humanizing the Cold War Campus” without all the help I received in discovering and accessing the primary sources upon which it is based. Thanks are especially due to the many wonderful iii archivists, librarians, and curators whose knowledge and expertise pinpointed materials that might otherwise have escaped notice. Nora Murphy, archivist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Archives, and her staff kept me supplied with boxes of archival material during my three research trips to Cambridge, and helped maximize my productivity and efficiency on those all-too-brief visits to the MIT Archives. Jenny O’Neill, of the MIT Museum, was a wizard in conjuring up materials—from film footage and photos to the lyrics of “Daddy Was an Engineer”—that illuminated aspects of postwar MIT culture that would have otherwise remained dark. Martha Douglas, also of the MIT Museum and an author in her own right, offered much-appreciated early help in thinking about issues related to women students at MIT in the 1950s. One of the most fun parts of the research I conducted for the dissertation involved reading science fiction from the 1930s to the 1950s. The officers of the MIT Science Fiction Society (of which I am a proud, card-carrying member), deserve special thanks for permitting me to photocopy articles from The Twilight Zine and hang out in the Society’s magnificent library of science fiction books and magazines. My serendipitous discovery of Robert S. Hartman’s work at MIT, described in an article in The Tech , was one of those happy accidents that unexpectedly shifted my work in an exciting new direction. That article led me to the University of Tennessee Special Collections Library, repository of the Robert S. Hartman Papers—a treasure trove of information on his work and fascinating life story. In describing incidents from Hartman’s personal and professional life, I often found myself saying, “No, really, I am not making this up”—once again confirming that truth really is stranger than fiction. Thanks to research specialist Bill Eigelsbach in the Special Collections Library for helping me work with the Hartman Papers, recently relocated to the University’s John C. Hodges Library, and to the Library’s other friendly and knowledgeable staff, for going out of their way to make my research trip as productive as possible. For help accessing the collection’s audio recordings of Hartman lectures, corporate seminars, and group discussions, I owe special thanks to Dr.

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