By Karen Feldscher

"It's possible Richard M. Freeland's best gift to Northeastern was that he didn't work there— at least not for very long— before becoming president.

That's because, in the decades leading up to the century's end, the university faithful had an unfortunate tendency to view themselves with something less than high regard. Sure, Northeastern had its signature co-op program, hard-working students, dedicated professors. But, with its tired gray-brick buildings and safety-school reputation, it seemed unable to shake a lingering inferiority complex, born in the shadow of loftier neighbors like Harvard and MIT.

Yet Freeland, who arrived at Northeastern as its sixth president in fall 1996, saw the university's potential from a newcomer's vantage point. He knew it could aim higher than it ever had before.

"As the first president appointed without a long period of service within the institution," he says, "I could bring an outsider's perspective to bear on its great potential. I was unencumbered by some of the diffidence that Northeastern had developed historically."

So confident was Freeland that, four years after becoming president, he called on Northeastern to become one of America's top-100 national universities.

Campus reaction? "Dubious," he admits.

Today, though, as Freeland prepares to step down from the presidency in a few months at age sixty-five, people are surprised and pleased at Northeastern's swift rise to the top tier of the U.S. News & World Report rankings, which it reached in 2004 and penetrated even more solidly in 2005.

Ask them about the top 100, and most say it's just a matter of time until the university gets there as well. And they credit Freeland for his audacity in pursuing the goal.

English department chair Stuart Peterfreund, who says he's disagreed with Freeland on some issues, praises the president's guiding vision.

"At the end of the day," says Peterfreund, "he is the person responsible for transforming us from a sleeping giant to an urban institution of higher education to be reckoned with— a first-tier institution. He made us look at ourselves, and, without that moment of introspection, you can't move forward."

A dream job
When Freeland came to Northeastern, the university was emerging from one of its toughest trials. A steep enrollment drop in 1990 had led to layoffs, hiring freezes, and budget cuts. To keep Northeastern improving during the economic uncertainty, then president John Curry, LA'56, ME'60, H'96, oversaw a push to make the university "smaller and better."

By 1996, enrollments had stabilized, and officials were working to boost student selectivity and particular areas of excellence within the institution. Northeastern was not going to be all things to all people. It was going to focus on the things it could do exceptionally well.

After he was hired, Freeland told the Boston Herald he knew he had his work cut out for him. But he wasn't worried about taking on what some might see as a fixer-upper. In fact, he was thrilled. In his inauguration speech, he said, "Not only do I accept the presidency of Northeastern, I embrace it. Not only do I succeed to this position, I leap to it. Not only am I honored by this appointment, I am exhilarated by it."

From day one, Freeland says, being president of Northeastern has been his "dream job." Ten years haven't dampened his enthusiasm. "I could completely believe in the mission of Northeastern, in all dimensions," he says. "Every part of what this institution does is consistent with my own value system and what interests me most in higher education."

He adds, with a smile, "This is a job that challenges every talent I have— and some I don't have."

Freeland's penchant for Northeastern stemmed partly from his thorough knowledge of the place. He'd taught American political history at the university part-time in the early 1970s, then watched it from a near distance during his twenty-two years as an administrator and dean at UMass-Boston. He'd also researched it for his 1992 book, Academia's Golden Age: Universities in Massachusetts, 1945-1970, which also looks at Boston College, Boston University, Brandeis, Harvard, MIT, Tufts, and the University of Massachusetts.

"Becoming Northeastern's president feels like joining a family I have been close to for many years," he told the Boston Globe at the time of his appointment.

His personal background provided more reasons for the feeling of kinship with Northeastern. Freeland's father never had the opportunity to go to college; his mother came from a long line of schoolteachers. The son understood the importance of education, especially for those of modest means.

After earning degrees from prestigious institutions— a bachelor's in American studies from Amherst College, a doctorate in American civilization from the University of Pennsylvania— Freeland chose work experiences in line with his educational priorities: his two-plus decades at UMass-Boston were followed by four years as vice chancellor for academic affairs at the City University of New York, the country's largest urban system of public higher education.

When he came to Northeastern, Freeland was a champion of the university's urban connections. He also believed strongly in the legitimacy of a real-world education based in co-op jobs, internships, research, and other outside-the-classroom ventures. He even coined a new term to describe this educational form: practice-oriented education.

There was some grumbling on campus about the phrase. "Many of us are still trying to figure out what that means," says Robert Hall, African-American studies department chair and an active participant in university governance.

But Freeland wanted Northeastern's panoply of experiential offerings to be known as more than just "co-op," which he thought a somewhat limiting term that conjured up the school's old lunch-pail image.

He made it his business to go front and center as the spokesman for practice-oriented education. In September 2000, he wrote a piece for the Chronicle of Higher Education titled "The Practical Path, Too, Can Be High-Minded," which argued that universities didn't have to choose between education for its own sake and a more down-to-earth, job-oriented curriculum. The two can co-exist in a mutually beneficial partnership, Freeland said.

In a 2004 Atlantic Monthly article titled "The Third Way," Freeland proclaimed that practice-oriented education is being recognized by some of the nation's leading academic institutions as a powerful alternative to more traditional approaches. He urged more educators to embrace the model.

"Claims for the moral superiority of liberal education reflect a bias against— even a disdain for— the workaday earning experiences of most adults," he wrote, "as if academic learning had a monopoly on value and meaning and other forms of work were solely about material gain. . . . For most of us, however, the workplace is more than a place to make a living. Often work is what gives our lives value beyond our families and ourselves, and enables us to make a broader contribution to society."

Pushing academics
Along with his enthusiasm for practice-oriented education, Freeland never lost sight of the importance of academic excellence. He saw no reason why Northeastern couldn't aim high here as well.

In 2004, Freeland announced a five-year, $75 million academic investment plan that would bring a hundred new professors to Northeastern and focus on strengths in key areas, including biotechnology, nanotechnology, sensing and imaging, and urban policy.

The plan, says provost Ahmed Abdelal, "was a major commitment by the university leadership to continue to enhance academic strengths, whether in support of undergraduate education, or professional education, or our aspirations as a research university."

In a February 2004 Boston Globe article on the academic investment plan, economics department chair Steven Morrison noted that the visible steps to strengthen academics were making it easier for him to recruit faculty members. "After people hear the story," he said, "they recognize [Northeastern] as a place that's on the move. The intellectual vitality is changing fast."

There were other academic high points. In 2000, the National Science Foundation (NSF) designated Northeastern an Engineering Research Center— one of only twenty-two such centers in the country— to develop technology in the fields of sensing and imaging. Four years later, the NSF chose Northeastern as one of six centers for research in nanotechnology. The university launched a new Center for Drug Discovery as the keystone of a $10 million biotech initiative. A new School of Education opened in 1999.

Research funding increased throughout the Freeland years, from $32 million in fiscal year 1997 to $46.5 million in fiscal year 2005. This year, officials report a whopping 50 percent increase, to $70 million. Further brightening the resources picture, by June 2005 the university's endowment had risen to $558 million, more than double its June 1996 value of $274 million.

On the operations end, Northeastern abandoned its longstanding quarter system for a semester system, a move that brought the university's calendar in line with other major national universities. The switch was aimed at improving teaching and learning, enhancing co-op, attracting better-qualified applicants, increasing student retention, and promoting better academic, professional, and industry partnerships.

Perhaps most stunning, however, were the statistics that reflect academic success: incoming-freshman SAT scores, student selectivity, retention. Northeastern had been making slow but steady gains in these areas from the early to mid-1990s. During the Freeland decade, the numbers leapt significantly.

Average incoming-freshman SAT scores jumped roughly 170 points. By 2005, 63 percent of freshmen graduated in the top fifth of their high school class, compared with 32 percent in 1996. Applications more than doubled; last year more than 25,460 applications came in for just 2,800 freshman spots. The acceptance rate dropped accordingly, from 85 percent to 47 percent. And the graduation rate soared from 39 percent to 61 percent.

Northeastern's climb in the overall U.S. News ranking was particularly noteworthy. The university moved from 162 in 1995 to 150 in 2001. It landed in the top tier for the first time in 2004, at 120. By last year, it had bounded to 115. (Freeland can rattle off these statistics— as well as for every year in between— at the drop of a hat.)

"Richard," says Philomena Mantella, senior vice president for enrollment management and student affairs, "has personally provided institutional drive and direction in improving Northeastern's enrollment and market position toward long-term health and viability."

A rising campus
Part and parcel of the upward trajectory has been Northeastern's physical transformation.

During the Freeland presidency, the university spent upward of $450 million on construction. Among other projects, it's built new homes for both Bouv?© College of Health Sciences and the College of Computer and Information Science; a high-rise parking garage; and, on the new West Campus, a series of residence halls that have won prestigious architectural awards. (Currently, Northeastern houses roughly 51 percent of undergraduates, about 7,400 students. The long-term goal is to house between 75 and 80 percent of undergraduates, similar to the percentages at peer institutions.)

As Freeland enhanced the campus, he also sought to build up Northeastern's image. The university launched a $3 million branding campaign, using newspaper ads, billboards, and public-radio sponsorship to make Northeastern a household name.

A May 2005 article in Boston magazine reported on the increasing tendency of New England universities to aggressively position themselves in an ever more competitive marketplace. At Northeastern, the article said, "Freeland's stroke of genius has been to not only openly embrace the [U.S. News] standings, but to actually incorporate them into his marketing strategy."

"One of the great strengths of the Freeland years has been public relations," says Robert Hall. "It's been masterful."

If external public relations was skillfully handled, internal marketing was seen as critical, too. Freeland knew that, on campus and among alumni, the idea of getting into the top 100 raised some eyebrows— why should there be so much emphasis placed on a consumer-magazine ranking?

It's not about a number, he's always said. The goal is to improve academically, to become better known and more respected.

Assistant history professor Gerald Herman, MA'67, another longtime participant in university governance, is blunt when he notes many wondered if entry into the top 100 could really be achieved. "At the beginning," he says, "there were a lot of people holding their breath, waiting to see."

Yet Freeland's staunch commitment to a tangible goal, observers say, got everyone to sit up and take notice.

"The president articulated a vision that captured and energized faculty and staff," says Abdelal. "This is really a major thing, to articulate a vision that can inspire people."

"He turned Northeastern into an academic institution with very high ambitions, and essentially put his money where his mouth is," says Herman. "Richard's major achievement has been to provide us with the better university that we promised ourselves when we downsized in the 1990s."

Northeastern's rapid progress "surprised everybody, including Richard," says James Stellar, College of Arts and Sciences dean. "No one would have predicted this."

An outside voice puts the achievement into a larger context. "This is one of the most remarkable transformations in higher education in the last decade," says Robert Zemsky, chair and CEO of the Learning Alliance for Higher Education, a University of Pennsylvania-based organization that helps higher-ed institutions with academic and management issues. "Richard's legacy is that he said to the Northeastern community, 'We can be a major player.'"

Zemsky acknowledges Freeland was the beneficiary of some good luck. "Northeastern had a really aggressive board chair [Neal Finnegan]," he says. "The demographics were all in Northeastern's favor. Boston, which was always sort of a hot city, became a really hot city. And [Northeastern officials] settled on a strategy of borrowing money to build dorms at a time when there were really low interest rates."

However, Zemsky says, luck doesn't explain the outcome: "This was a good time for change, but it had to be done by people who knew how to respond to change."

Zemsky's characterization of Freeland's top-100 vision, given Northeastern's history?

"Daring," he says.

Growing pains
As Northeastern's journey toward transformation continued in the fast lane, two problems erupted that drew the university's and the president's attention.

In spring 2001, after hearing the university planned to tear down and relocate the John D. O'Bryant African American Institute as part of the West Campus expansion, African American students occupied the institute building for several weeks in protest.

Nearly three years later, after the New England Patriots won the 2004 Super Bowl, student rowdiness in the Fenway neighborhood escalated into out-of-control crowds. In the melee, a Northeastern student's brother was struck by a sports utility vehicle and killed.

The incidents were deeply troubling to Freeland.

On paper, it made sense to raze the old African American Institute building to put up a new structure. The plan was in keeping with efforts to create a more residential campus and maximize academic space. And, after initial discussions with students, Freeland had already agreed not to move the institute into an existing building, but to house it in the new structure— which would also include dorms and classroom space— and give it a separate entrance.

But African American students decried the change, pointing to the historical significance of the institute, which had served as the center for black student life on campus for thirty years.

Robert Hall says the students' insistence on a freestanding structure did involve "a certain amount of hugging the building." Overall, though, he thinks Freeland and other officials could have handled the situation more deftly.

As it happened, the final decision to demolish the building was made in a closed meeting, and no formal announcement was made to the large group of students waiting to hear the upshot. When word trickled out, students pursued Freeland's car down Huntington Avenue, then held a rally that blocked traffic for several hours.

"I'm very proud of the fact we're working our way through that," says Freeland today. "But that was a very bad day."

The events that cascaded after the Super Bowl also left their scars.

After the game ended, students in the Fenway neighborhood spilled into the streets. As their numbers grew, they flipped cars, hung from trees, threw beer bottles, set bonfires, and had to be subdued by firefighters who sprayed them with hoses. Several were arrested. On one street, an SUV plowed through the crowd, killing the brother of a Northeastern student and severely injuring another student.

In the days that followed, voices in the media and the political arena blamed Northeastern's students and administration for the mayhem. University officials posted photos of the crowds on a website and made it clear they wanted the names of troublemakers. Several students were later expelled, and several others were disciplined.

The university formed a task force of community members, student leaders, faculty, staff, alumni, and parents to evaluate what went wrong that Sunday night and how university-neighborhood relations could be improved.

In another step, Freeland decided to cancel the 2004 Springfest concert, which would have featured popular hip-hop artist Ludacris. "This isn't the time to have a party for ourselves," he said. "The message we want to send is . . . we can be responsible contributors to the life of this city."

Students were angered by Freeland's decision. He took some heat from the 150 students who packed a late-February meeting held in the Curry Student Center. An Internet petition blasting the move gathered 2,000 names. Many argued it wasn't fair that all students should be punished for the actions of a few.

The press, however, thought differently. Both major Boston newspapers gave Freeland a thumbs-up. "It's exactly the right message," wrote the Boston Globe. The Boston Herald praised Freeland's "sound leadership."

Intense discussions about defusing town-gown tensions were undertaken with city officials. A plan was hammered out to move 900 students out of Fenway apartments into new dorms, where they would be less likely to disturb neighbors. Currently, Northeastern is working with neighbors and city officials as it develops its new master plan, which will outline how and where the university will build over the next short term.

Even before 2004, however, Northeastern had made strides in community relations on Freeland's watch. A collaboration among the university, the neighborhoods, and the city built Davenport Commons, a Columbus Avenue complex that combines dorm rooms with affordable housing for the community. It sits across the street from a new squash and recreation facility, used by city residents and the university community, which Northeastern donated the land for and maintains. Faculty, staff, and students have stepped up their involvement in the city's daily life, consulting and volunteering in such areas as health care, community development, and education.

Obviously, as Northeastern becomes more popular and more residential, more opportunities for friction between students and neighbors will arise. And so Freeland sees a silver lining to the Super Bowl incident. It prompted the university to revise its orientation sessions and communications with students, he says, "to drive home the point that, if you're going to come to Northeastern, you've got to understand that you're expected to be a citizen in this town."

From their perch on the other side of the generational divide, student leaders give Freeland high marks.

"President Freeland has been very supportive of the students' initiatives," says Ashley Adams, outgoing Student Government Association (SGA) president. "He's always been there to help."

Former SGA president William Durkin says that, though some students have wanted a more personal connection with Freeland, "I don't know if that's really his style. He's not going to walk around campus strutting his stuff with a whole cohort of people behind him. He's more of a reserved person. But when you do talk with him, you get that genuine sense that he really cares about students."

Asked his opinion of the student body, Freeland says the Super Bowl aftermath was particularly painful for him because he holds Northeastern students in such high regard. He's convinced the incident doesn't typify them.

In fact, he speaks of students like a proud father. "I have been impressed by their seriousness, directedness, and maturity," he says.

Challenges ahead
If Northeastern took the occasional beating in the press, it's also received some ringing high-fives. Perhaps the most visible was a lengthy 2003 Boston Globe article titled "A Higher Grade," which outlined Northeastern's improvements and increasing popularity, and proclaimed it "a hot school."

Three years earlier, Northeastern's growing popularity had helped cause a sticky situation. In 2000, the university inadvertently admitted 25 percent more freshmen— 600 people— than planned. It had to scramble to provide additional classroom space, instructors, housing, and parking. Still, many believed, this also carried a silver lining: Better too many interested than too few.

From Freeland's point of view, building interest in Northeastern among prospective students and parents is crucial because, over the next few years, a shift in demographics will make things more challenging for universities in general. There will be fewer numbers of high school students, for one thing. And colleges in New England are expected to lose some popularity to colleges in other regions.

As a result, Freeland believes, Northeastern has to attract students by offering more financial aid. Over the past ten years, aid has gone up 300 percent, and distribution, in the past aimed most heavily at freshmen, is now more evenly divided across the classes. Despite the gains, Freeland says, the aid Northeastern provides is not enough.

"It's still below that of some competitive institutions that are better established as top-tier," he says. "Why would students want to come here and pay more? The answer— and this has been our salvation— is that we offer something special. A lot of smart kids figure that out. They and their families are ready to accept a degree of sacrifice to have the benefits a Northeastern education offers. But I wouldn't want to bet on that working forever."

Overall, Freeland says, he's concentrated on building and strengthening programs, and advancing the concept of a smaller, better Northeastern. He hopes the next president can shift attention to other issues, such as raising money and fostering ever-stronger relations with neighboring communities and the city of Boston.

He also looks forward to big improvements in alumni relations. "We need to overcome years of, at best, intermittent communication and cultivation," he says, "and move rapidly into a universe where our alumni are as engaged with and supportive of us as the alumni of institutions that have been at this for generations."

Meanwhile, if Northeastern has plenty to accomplish over the coming years, Freeland does, too. One priority, he says, is to travel more. He and his wife, Elsa Nunez, the vice chancellor for academic and student affairs at the University of Maine system, have been able to piggyback travel in South Africa and China onto Freeland's work-related trips. They've also managed brief visits to Sweden, Holland, and Ireland. Last year, they took their first "real" vacation abroad in a long time, spending two weeks in Prague, Vienna, and Budapest.

After retiring, Freeland will serve as a visiting professor of higher education at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. He'll also join the board of the Boston Museum Project, which is creating a museum devoted to Boston history on the Rose Kennedy Greenway. And he's considering writing projects, perhaps even another book.

"It has been my intention all along to leave the presidency when I was still young enough and healthy enough to do something else," says Freeland. But, he adds, "the truth is, it is very hard for me to leave the Northeastern presidency."

He acknowledges, with a tinge of regret, that he won't be at the helm when the university finally reaches a particular milestone. "I would love to be here when Northeastern gets into the top 100, which I believe we will in the next two or three years," he says. "But my deeper goal was always to make sure Northeastern was securely positioned as a top-tier university, whatever the number ranking was." It's there now, he believes.

To any candidate for the Northeastern presidency, Freeland offers this advice: "Love the institution and our work. If you don't think you can love what we are and what we are about, don't take the job. That would be a sin. Embrace the role with your whole heart."

As he prepares to leave his dream job, there's one thing, above all, from which he draws deep satisfaction. "From an emotional point of view," he says, "the most rewarding thing has been seeing people believe in themselves more, and believe in the institution more.

"Whatever we may say—whatever poses we may strike as skeptical, sophisticated academic people— the reality is an awful lot of our identity is caught up with the identity of the institution where we work. And we feel better about ourselves depending on how that institution is perceived in the world," he says. "To the extent that Northeastern is perceived as an institution of increasing excellence and increasing stature, that just makes us all feel better about who we are, and what we're doing, and more affirmed in our efforts in the world.

"That," Freeland says, "is a wonderful process to observe."

Karen Feldscher is a senior writer.