In Admissions, the Powerful Weigh In

Last spring, Brent W. Sembler saw an opening that might help him land a big gift.

As he had done many times before, the Florida State University trustee sent a query to Janice V. Finney, longtime director of admissions. Was this student, who had been denied in December, perhaps “admissible?” Mr. Sembler asked.

“Here’s why I’m asking,” the trustee wrote in an email. The student’s “family is capable of funding our new Business School!”

With a core grade-point average below 3.0, Ms. Finney said, fall admission was not possible. But she would “work with him for January.”

The trustee wrote back, beaming: “That’s one of the things I LOVE about you! I’m workin it HARD!”

Ms. Finney, a 1975 graduate of Florida State, said in a recent interview that she would have made similar accommodations for any student who truly wanted to be a Seminole. But Ms. Finney’s exchange with Mr. Sembler highlights a delicate and potentially fraught dynamic, in which the most powerful people at a public university sometimes insert themselves into the admissions process.

Stories of admissions advantages for the nation’s power elite are nothing new, and individual cases of apparent favoritism are often met with shrugs. In recent years, however, disclosures of preferential treatment for connected students at the flagship campuses of Illinois and Texas have struck particularly sour notes, feeding perceptions that the system remains rigged for a privileged few.

Most public-university presidents describe their admissions offices as walled gardens, where qualified professionals are free to build classes that reflect an institution’s values of diversity and academic excellence. But a Chronicle investigation, based on a review of 1,950 pages of emails from 13 public universities across the country, reveals varying levels of engagement among admissions officers, board members, and presidents. In these documents, university trustees and some presidents inquire routinely about the fates of individual applicants.

Citing student-privacy laws, universities provided The Chronicle with documents that were heavily redacted. It is therefore difficult to discern how individual cases played out or whether universities bent admissions standards for favored applicants.

What the emails do reveal is that, as public-university admissions offices work to build classes based on merit, the men and women who oversee colleges often advocate on behalf of applicants from wealthy and well-connected families. Trustees grouse when their friends’ children are not admitted. They worry aloud about crossing a line with their advocacy. And, at least at Florida State, they inject talk of potential donations into the admissions process.

At many institutions, few if any rules govern how much college leaders can influence admissions decisions, and some admissions officials must deal with a deluge of such correspondence. Many messages seem like harmless exchanges of information. But they underscore a fact of life for the modern admissions office: When an email from a trustee or president pops up, nobody can ignore it.

Before he became a Florida State trustee and a power player in the Republican Party, Mr. Sembler relied upon his family’s connections to get ahead.

The young Brent Sembler, who had average grades and undiagnosed dyslexia, needed a boost to get into John Cabot University, in Rome. His father’s lawyer put in a good word. “He vouched for me,” Mr. Sembler says. “He got me into the school.”

Mr. Sembler later completed his bachelor’s degree at Florida State, and he followed in his father’s footsteps as both a developer of shopping malls and a Republican fund raiser. Looking back, he says, he was driven to succeed because he knew that a family friend had given him an edge in life. “That guy took a chance on me,” Mr. Sembler recalls, “and I was not going to let him down.”

Now, Mr. Sembler says, it is his turn to pay it forward. When friends tell the trustee that their children are struggling to get into Florida State, he directs them to Ms. Finney, who advises them on a path into the university. “I don’t think I’ve ever pressured Janice,” he says.

“It’s uncomfortable when somebody says, ‘How do I get into FSU?’ " Mr. Sembler continues. “I try to introduce them to Janice Finney and get the hell out of the way.”

But records show that, on at least two occasions, Mr. Sembler has discussed a family’s capacity for donations in the context of admissions. Asked about this, he concedes, “It’s probably a bad thing to do, because of the way it looks.”

Of all the universities whose records The Chronicle examined, Florida State stood out as an institution where trustees are in regular contact with the admissions office. In the span of 10 months, from the fall of 2014 to the spring of 2015, Florida State trustees and the president requested that the director give special attention to nearly 40 individual applicants, averaging about one inquiry a week.

Ms. Finney’s interactions with trustees are often both friendly and chummy. On December 15, 2014, for example, Mr. Sembler eagerly inquired about the son of one of his best friends from college. The two men were fraternity brothers in Florida State’s chapter of Pi Kappa Alpha, and Mr. Sembler had been assured that the progeny “would make a great Pike.”

“Accepted,” Ms. Finney wrote within an email exchange filled with smiley faces, “but don’t tell him Let dad be just as surprised!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Ohhhhhh!! I want to tell him. OK.”

“Nope!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you want your privileges’ suspended.”

“No!”

“Then be good”

Ms. Finney officially retired as director in June, but she has continued on as an adviser to the admissions office. In a recent interview, she said she never felt pressured by the trustees’ inquiries and viewed board members as part of a team working to extend opportunities to as many students as possible.

“My whole goal is to try to get the kids who truly want to be here,” Ms. Finney says. “It’s not giving favors to anyone. I firmly believe students need to earn their way in.”

Records show that, on numerous occasions, Ms. Finney told board members that applicants were not admissible and would need to take additional classes and improve their grades or test scores if they hoped to be accepted.

Florida State’s admissions requirements are hardly among the nation’s most competitive, but plenty of people are turned away. Of nearly 30,000 applicants who applied for the fall or summer of 2015, 56 percent were accepted.

At a minimum, records show, friends of Florida State trustees were given a direct pipeline to the admissions office’s top official, who consistently offered to serve as a personal adviser to those applicants and to “pull” or “hold in my office” their materials. This is a level of attention, Ms. Finney says, that she would give to any student.

Even a casual email from a trustee requires an admissions office’s immediate attention. “They’re all urgent,” says Jim Rawlins, assistant vice president for enrollment management and director of admissions at the University of Oregon. “You’ve got to have some finesse with it. You’re never going to not answer. It can add up to the kind of thing that really drains you.”

Some admissions officials say they look for patterns in those emails, recurring questions that might suggest an opportunity for educating trustees. Explaining how decisions are made, clearing up misconceptions, it’s all part of the job. “Some of these folks in high-power positions come from a totally different world,” Mr. Rawlins says. “Many of them, all they want is information, and you’ve got to give it to them.”

Managing those requests can take up a lot of time. But it’s time well spent, says Rachelle Hernandez, associate vice provost for enrollment management and director of admissions on the University of Minnesota’s Twin Cities campus.

Emails among officials there provide a glimpse into how exchanges between the trustees and the admissions office often play out. Like many institutions, Minnesota has a protocol for funneling inquiries by or about applicants to a single contact in the admissions office, who then follows up with the student in question. It’s the same process for anyone — a parent, a college counselor — who inquires on behalf of an applicant.

By designating a single point of contact for all admissions-related questions (or gripes), Minnesota’s admissions office tries to ensure that everyone gets quick, accurate information. The process also affirms that nobody else has a hand in its evaluations of applicants, Ms. Hernandez says. “When someone says, ‘I’m forwarding this information to the admissions office,’ they’re signaling that they don’t participate in the admissions decision.”

Still, trustees forward plenty of messages regarding the status of specific applicants. Over the past year, email records show, Heidi B. Meyer, a senior director in Minnesota’s admissions office, received several such inquiries from board members. As the designated contact for all university officials with questions about prospective students, Ms. Meyer responded to each message promptly, often within a few minutes.

On May 31, for instance, Michael D. Hsu, a board member, initiated a typical exchange. In a message to Brian R. Steeves, executive director of the Office of the Board of Regents, Mr. Hsu inquired about a student who was hoping to transfer before an impending deadline. “Can you please find someone to answer her questions?” he wrote. “Her parents and grandparents are all alums, so hopefully things will work out.”

Early the next morning, Mr. Steeves forwarded the message to Ms. Meyer: “Would you have someone follow up with this applicant to discuss status and options?”

Minutes later, Ms. Meyer replied: “Yes, of course, we’ll follow up right away.”

In some emails The Chronicle obtained, trustees seem concerned about overstepping their bounds. In one message, David J. McMillan, a board member at Minnesota, wrote to Mr. Steeves about having recommended a student for a service award: “If I went too far in supporting her, let me know.”

Mr. Steeves replied that it was OK to write “an occasional letter of support” for a student who is “well known to you.”

In response to an inquiry about a prospective student last winter, Richard B. Beeson, another board member, wrote: “We don’t get involved directly with the process as I’m sure you can appreciate.”

But for every deferential trustee, there are a few who express their displeasure when decisions don’t go their way. In February, Peggy E. Lucas, a member of Minnesota’s Board of Regents, sent an email about “my friends kid” to Mr. Steeves: “We were both surprised that he didn’t at least get wait listed! Kind of embarrassing!” Although Ms. Lucas went on to say that she knew that the university could not reverse the decision, she had a question: “Is it possible to find out how this decision was made?”

Some trustees see themselves as talent scouts for the institutions they serve. Now and then, they get frustrated when a prospect they’ve backed doesn’t make the cut.

William R. Johnston, a trustee at the New College of Florida, comes out “with all guns firing,” he says, when he identifies promising students who seems like a good fit for the institution. “Maybe it’s not a requirement, but it damn near is in my book,” he says. “Trustees are probably negligent if they don’t say something to the admissions director or dean.”

Mr. Johnston spent his career on Wall Street, serving as president and chief operating officer of the New York Stock Exchange from 1996 to 2001. In the world of finance, shyness doesn’t get you very far. So when a high-school student impresses him, he doesn’t hesitate to contact the New College’s admissions office repeatedly.

On April 15, for instance, Mr. Johnston sent an email to Mitch Finer, director of enrollment, about a wait-listed applicant from Saint Stephen’s Episcopal School, in Bradenton, Fla. He wanted “the ‘skinny’” on the student’s chances.

Mr. Finer wrote back to say that federal student-privacy laws prevented him from sharing such information. Five minutes later, Mr. Johnston huffed: “All these rules and a token will get me a ride in the NYC subways. I would hope that NCF has the good sense to take kids from St Stephen’s if they are qualified.”

The next day, Mr. Johnston wrote a longer email to Kathleen M. Killion, dean of enrollment services and information technology. He described having had lunch with the applicant the previous day at the request of one of her teachers. “I hope you will not only reconsider but accept her,” he wrote.

Mr. Johnston offered a glowing appraisal of the student, noting her artistic accomplishments. “She is a smart, accomplished and adorable young woman,” he wrote, “the kind you’d like your son to bring home.” Although the student’s grades “may be a little under the NCF average,” he added, “she is a hard worker and loves the independence that the college offers.”

In her response, Ms. Killion thanked Mr. Johnston for the recommendation. “We will most definitely consider your remarks,” she wrote, when reviewing applicants on the wait list. “All I can ask for, Kathy,” Mr. Johnston replied. “Very smart and pretty kid. Hope you get to meet her.”

Mr. Johnston says he later learned that the young woman had not been admitted. He recalls his reaction: “Disappointed is exactly the word.”

Still, Mr. Johnston is careful to say that admissions officials must make tough decisions, which are bound to make some people unhappy. Also an emeritus member of the Board of Trustees at Washington and Lee University, his alma mater, he has seen plenty of students he recommended get in and plenty of others who did not. “Nobody bats 1,000,” he says.

These days, Mr. Johnston picks his spots. He won’t write strong letters for students he doesn’t know, even if he’s acquainted with their parents or grandparents. “You don’t want the dean of admissions to say, ‘Bill Johnston sent me a turkey,’ " he says.

With few exceptions, records show, trustees are delicate in their correspondence with admissions officers. Emails from most board members read as polite inquiries, checking on the status of applications. But some in higher education question whether these seemingly benign transmissions carry with them an implicit directive: Admit this student.

Ward A. Connerly, a former University of California regent, says the imbalance of power between a board member and an admissions officer makes any such communications problematic. “The message is clear,” says Mr. Connerly, president of the American Civil Rights Institute. “The mere fact that you’re asking means it’s important to you. If it’s important enough for you to ask, then they get the message of what’s expected of them.”

Known for his campaign against race-conscious admissions, Mr. Connerly was also central to the creation of California policies designed to limit the influence of regents and chancellors on admissions. Years later, administrators and board members still lean on these policies when asked to do favors. In March, for example, Janet A. Napolitano, the university’s president, cited regulations when approached by a person seeking admission at the Los Angeles campus.

“I am prohibited by university policy,” she wrote in an email, “from influencing the outcome of any admissions decision beyond sending, through the regular admissions process, a letter of recommendation for a student whom I know and with whom I am familiar.”

California’s policies were formed in the wake of a Los Angeles Times investigation, in 1996, which identified a backdoor system of admission for the children of prominent people. Scrutiny of the practice came amid a broader debate about race-conscious admissions, which were banned first by the board and later through a statewide ballot initiative.

Unlike California, many public institutions have few if any formal guidelines for how board members or presidents should respond if approached about individual admissions cases. The Association of Governing Boards of Universities and Colleges, which sets national standards for board governance, offers little explicit advice on the matter, other than to say that board involvement in admissions may present potential conflicts of interest.

More common than policies are rules of thumb. Thomas C. Meredith, a consultant for the association, says trustees should recommend applicants and then back away from the process. “Tell the president, but drop it,” says Mr. Meredith, who previously led university systems in Alabama, Georgia, and Mississippi. “That’s all you should ever do. Don’t follow up. Don’t put pressure.”

Ana Mari Cauce, president of the University of Washington, says she thinks it would be inappropriate for a board member to contact the admissions office about any particular applicant.

“They can call me up, but it won’t make any difference,” Ms. Cauce says. “I would be very upset if they called the admissions office directly. That’s off the charts. They certainly shouldn’t make promises or imply that they can do something.”

Indeed, Washington’s Faculty Senate, which oversees admissions policies, approved a strongly worded resolution nearly a decade ago. Attempts to influence the admissions process, it says, are “inappropriate and an affront” to the university.

The lines at other universities, however, are far less clearly drawn. John E. Thrasher, president of Florida State, says that trustee communication with admissions officers is acceptable so long as board members do not insist on the admission of particular students.

“If we find out that there are board members saying, ‘Make sure this person gets in,’ I’d be shocked by that,” Mr. Thrasher says.

Yet when given an opportunity to speak privately, many admissions officials across the country say that outside interference is very real. A survey published in October by Inside Higher Ed found that one in four admissions directors felt pressured by senior administrators, trustees, or development officers to admit particular applicants.

“When I make an inquiry,” Mr. Thrasher says, “I promise you our people understand it’s an inquiry. It’s not me telling them, ‘Admit this person.’ "

When Mr. Thrasher was appointed Florida State’s president, in 2014, many students and faculty members argued that the longtime Republican state senator would put his own political interests ahead of the university’s academic mission.

In his first six months in office, records show, Mr. Thrasher emailed the university’s admissions director about five applicants, most of whom had political connections. The president had received entreaties, for example, from a chief appeals-court judge and a lobbyist who served as deputy chief of staff to Jeb Bush when Mr. Bush was Florida’s governor.

In one notable exchange, on May 30, Mr. Thrasher contacted Ms. Finney, the admissions director, about a dual-enrollment student who had been brought to his attention by Robert Tornillo, director of the Office of Cabinet Affairs for the state’s chief financial officer. The student had performed poorly in two classes, dragging his grade-point average down to 1.47, which automatically triggered a rescission of admission.

What followed was a deviation from standard protocol, ending in the student’s reinstatement.

In her first email response to Mr. Thrasher, Ms. Finney said, “Our decision will be hard to overturn.” She later concluded, however, that the student never should have been permitted to take “Differential Equations,” in which he earned a D, after having earned a C- in Calculus 3. The D grade was dropped, and the student was reinstated, even though his new cumulative grade-point average of 1.75 still fell below the threshold that triggers rescission.

Rather than require the student to formally appeal to the admissions committee, a step that is standard in such cases, Ms. Finney decided to personally reinstate him. The student had received little if any advising, she said, and never should have enrolled in such challenging classes at the start of his college career.

Ms. Finney says the president’s involvement in the case did not influence her decisions in any way. “There are not very many cases where a student will not go before an admissions committee,” she says. “But in this situation, I knew right away what the admissions committee would do. They would have overturned it instantly.”

The problem that any college must confront: Some applicants have connections to presidents and trustees, but many others have none at all.

That’s an especially crucial fact for public institutions, which are widely supposed to value merit over privilege, talent over personal ties, in fulfilling their missions. Even the appearance of favoritism can undermine the public’s faith.

Then again, some constituents expect special treatment. A high-ranking college official is an easy target for anyone seeking an edge in the admissions process. Parents, often desperate to give their children any advantage they can, naturally turn to those with real or perceived influence over outcomes that so often seem mysterious.

Phillip Trout says he can relate to trustees who find themselves on the receiving end of all those inquiries. A college counselor at Minnetonka High School, in Minnesota, he has long studied the faces of parents when they realize that yes, in fact, he knows the dean of admissions at the selective college their son or daughter is applying to.

“There’s just this look,” Mr. Trout says. “You can tell they’re now churning inside, and they’re wondering ‘So … could you put in a good word?’”

He always tells them the same thing: It’s a student’s record of achievement that will earn her a spot.

Still, some families, especially affluent ones with strong social networks, may have good reason to think that personal relationships grease any and all wheels.

“You can think of it in terms of the haves and have-nots,” Mr. Trout says. “The haves like to ask another person for a favor because they think that’s what they are entitled to, or that’s what they’ve earned, or that’s what should be a part of a mutual friendship or professional relationship.”

Indeed, a peek behind the curtain of selective university admissions offices reveals a classic power play, in which people of privilege try to work a system that is controlled to some degree by their own powerful friends, colleagues, and, yes, former college classmates.

Once these inquiries reach admissions officials, they often have a familiar ring — help this “incredible young man” or take a closer look at this “very special young lady.” Whatever the words, the message is the same: This case is exceptional.

Jack Stripling covers college leadership, particularly presidents and governing boards. Follow him on Twitter @jackstripling, or email him at jack.stripling@chronicle.com.

Eric Hoover writes about admissions trends, enrollment-management challenges, and the meaning of Animal House, among other issues. He’s on Twitter @erichoov, and his email address is eric.hoover@chronicle.com.