Hanging in Thomas W. Jones’s study is a poster-size photo of him at age 19. In it, his left fist is raised and his right hand grasps a rifle as he strides out of a student union at Cornell University.
The photo was snapped on April 20, 1969, just as Mr. Jones and more than 100 other black students ended their armed occupation of Willard Straight Hall.
Almost 24 years after the takeover -- which rocked the campus like no event since -- Mr. Jones, now second in command of higher education’s largest pension system, is returning to Cornell in a new role. The student who once rallied a crowd by threatening that Cornell had three hours to live is expected to take a seat on its governing board this summer.
The takeover began as a protest against the campus judicial system, which had reprimanded some black students. But the larger cause, in Mr. Jones’s view, was Cornell’s foot dragging over the creation of a black-studies program.
To this day, Mr. Jones has conflicted feelings about the takeover. He strongly regrets the use of guns to resolve the dispute. On the other hand, he is not at all sorry that he stood up for his beliefs.
“I don’t regret refusing to capitulate to administrators and faculty who helped lay the groundwork for the confrontation,” writes Mr. Jones in an essay reflecting on the events of 1969. “They didn’t pick up the guns. ... But violence is just the last stop on a line that also runs through ill will, arrogance, disregard, contempt, and intimidation.”
Mr. Jones graduated from Cornell with a bachelor’s in government in 1969 and went on to get his master’s in city and regional planning in 1972. He went to work in the financial world and is now president of the Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association and the College Retirement Equities Fund.
But in 1969, he was a senior at Cornell, widely known by whites and blacks alike, having been president of his freshman class.
“There were those within the black-student community who labeled me not militant enough,” he says, “and certainly in the aftermath of this there were those in the larger community who labeled me as extremely militant.”
In fact, he was one of the black students who initially opposed taking over the building. His side lost, but he participated in the occupation in a show of solidarity.
The takeover began without guns. After some white students tried to break in, the black students brought in weapons.
Mr. Jones’s moment in the spotlight came two days after the takeover ended, during a rally of 10,000 students. The faculty had just voted down an agreement reached between the administration and the protesters. At the rally, Mr. Jones electrified the crowd with his threat that Cornell had three hours to live.
The threat, he now says, was “just hyperbole.” But he managed to unite many white students behind the black students. The next day, the faculty reversed itself and approved the agreement.
In the following months, Mr. Jones helped establish Cornell’s black-studies program. But his activism faded. “I never again was part of a group where I could lose control over my own involvement and choice about what types of situations to participate in,” he says.
Dennis A. Williams, a senior lecturer at Cornell, was a freshman on the campus in the fall of 1969. Mr. Williams, who wrote about the takeover for Newsweek in 1984, says having Mr. Jones on the board “will be good for Cornell.”
“It does bring a certain kind of closure to that event,” he adds.
Not everyone at Cornell agrees. L. Pearce Williams, a professor of the history of science who teaches part time at Cornell, says the takeover “destroyed the moral authority of the faculty.” Mr. Williams, who still questions the need for black studies, wrote a letter to the student newspaper opposing Mr. Jones’s appointment.
Some professors, such as Walter Berns, resigned from Cornell in disgust following the takeover.
“Some of us took the lead in opposing capitulation,” recalls Mr. Berns, now a professor of government at Georgetown University. “It was then that Tom Jones went on the radio and threatened our lives. He made some statement to the effect that he’ll take care of us.”
Mr. Berns says he knew he didn’t have to fear Mr. Jones, who was one of his students, but he did fear attacks from others. “Twenty-five years ago he threatened my life, and now he’s taking care of my old age.”
Stephen H. Weiss, chairman of Cornell’s board, says he expects trustees to approve Mr. Jones’s nomination in May.
“I’m sure there are people who still harbor some resentment,” Mr. Weiss says. “But if you know Mr. Jones today and know what he’s accomplished, one comes to the clear conclusion that he will make a strong contribution to the board.”
Mr. Jones believes that his joining the Cornell board is a sign of how far the nation has come since the 1960’s. He bristles at the idea that some will view his appointment as a travesty. “I’m not the villain,” he says, “I’m the hero.”
