The History of One Man is The Legacy of A College
By Solomon O. Smith
America has a strange relationship with its history. As the country has matured, it has forced a mythological view of itself and diverged from the truth of what the historical record presents. From Manifest Destiny to the “Old West,” rewriting the history of America has been a pastime for the country.
This applies to the lives of individuals, too.
What was once the Oviatt Library is now the Northridge University Library, a direct result of campus communities reckoning with the truth of its original namesake, Delmar T. Oviatt, a former dean of the college and one of its most influential, and controversial, figures.
Early Life As An Educator, of Sorts
Delmar T. Oviatt was born a Canadian, in 1911. There he completed his primary and secondary education and received a bachelor’s degree in 1939 from the University of Alberta. He later continued his education in the United States where he earned his masters degree and his doctorate from Stanford University in 1942 and 1949, respectively.
Oviatt came to America to further his education and has been involved in education ever since. He began his career as an educator filling the young minds of elementary and high school students in Canada, but upon moving to the United States he began teaching at the college level in Utah and Washington State.
The connection between Delmar T. Oviatt and the college go back to the initial inception of the school. When San Fernando Valley College, the community college that would later become CSUN, was first opened in 1955, Oviatt was there.
Oviatt, after coming to Southern California, was a person who was often seen and heard in important circles of education in the city of Los Angeles, but not always an official member of the team.
Howard MacDonald had been essential in establishing the current location of the school and it’s establishment. Oviatt, in a 1971 history class at CSUN in the Del Stelck Early CSUN Interviews Collection, shared his story of getting hired at San Fernando Valley.
Oviatt’s involvement with the root of CSUN, Los Angeles Valley College, began with an appointment outside of a men’s room.
Then president of the college, Howard MacDonald, had a restroom directly across from his office — a rest room Oviatt was coming out of on the day MacDonald was looking for a dean.
“Doctor MacDonald was a rather impetuous man,” shared the elder Oviatt. “Doctor MacDonald one day decided that he had to have some kind of appointment to work at the new San Fernando State College. So, he came out of his door the same time I came out of the men’s room, and that’s how I got to be (laughter) Dean of San Fernando Valley State College.”
Oviatt goes on to share humorous stories about haggling over the pay with an administrator and his becoming the only appointment to dean of the College of Applied Arts and Sciences in 1955.
“Whenever I sat down, I could declare it to be a faculty meeting,” said Oviatt. “I could hold a faculty meeting in a phonebooth.”
Oviatt shared stories about his understanding of the details of how political systems use metrics, like enrollment, to build a college. He was adept, sure and politically wily as he discusses how he helped build the campus up from nothing, while balancing the college’s needs with the growing state’s other resources. It was a different man from the one usually described as deaf to the needs of students, sharing stories of his halcyon days of starting a college and his new life in Los Angeles.
Turmoil and The Fall of A Legend
By all accounts, Oviatt was a sure thing for president of the college.
But that’s not what happened.
In an article by the Los Angeles Times, when choosing the first president for the new school, “Oviatt was Passed over” for the honor of being the first president of the college for Dr. Ralph Prator.
“Although Oviatt was widely liked,” reads and L.A. Times Article, “his educational philosophy and official manner leaned toward the rigid, critics later recalled.”
From the records available and the comments about the man found through news articles and speeches, he was at best, difficult to work with, and his not being chosen as president reflected Oviatt’s rough edges. Students did not like the man, but they needed what he could do.
This would be important later.
Oviatt stayed on for the college as a dean. He served under Prator, which one could imagine as galling for a man like Oviatt. The two worked at the college during one of the most politically active periods in the country. The full power of the Civil Rights movement, and its aftermath, was on its way and hit the campus hard.
In 1968 Black student enrollment was at an all time high with the creation of the EOP program, and Black students and minorities wanted to be acknowledged and seen in the course material as well. Oviatt was, at best, slow to change. Oviatt was a major roadblock. He outright refused to meet with or acknowledge these student groups and refused to speak about them.
There are few records about the two men and their working relationship, but how it ended is covered extensively.
In November of 1968 students protested by marching to the Administration building. During this time there had been several other incidents on campus spurred on by poor treatment of Black students. In response Oviatt committed the act that pulled his name off the CSUN library.
Oviatt acting as president called police who, wearing riot gear waited for students in the administration building. No one knows who broke the glass doors but afterward the police rushed the students (some police went around white students by some accounts) and attacked with clubs. One student nearly loss an eye. These events were made into a documentary by the CSUN EOP called “The Storm at Valley State.”
A peaceful protest was escalated by the actions of Oviatt, who also pressed forward on disciplinary actions against many of the Black students, some who were not present for the protest.
Over 200 students were arrested, almost all students of color.
Evaluating a Legacy
Much of what happened in winter of 1968 was well documented by the Sundial, local newspapers and books. Decades later a group of students concerned with the racist legacy of Oviatt protested and The Oviatt Library Advisory Working Group, investigated the events.
The legacy of a person is difficult to contend with. It is hard to say what is fair when looking at the actions of a lifetime, which require both context and fairness.
Oviatt’s legacy was reviewed by a board of students, educators and faculty. They poured over newspaper clippings, internal memos, public meetings and other artifacts in evaluating Oviatt, whose life is now irrevocably linked to a single moment in time.
They found him wanting.
The school has now scrubbed away the name of Oviatt and put an asterisk next to his name. His actions on those few weeks in 1968, however, remain the core of his legacy.
