Stanford and Silicon Valley, who made who?

There is a long article on the New Yorker, titled "Get Rich U. --- There are no walls between Stanford and Silicon Valley. Should there be?"

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/04/30/120430fa_fact_auletta#ixzz1tMzN7EIU

The 8-page paper detailed Stanford's history and connections in SV. The complete article link is here. Here are some cut-and-pastes:

About Stanford history:

Leland Stanford was a Republican governor and senator in the late nineteenth century, who made a fortune from the Central Pacific and Southern Pacific railroads, which he had helped to found. Stout and bearded, he could be typecast, like Gould, Morgan, and Vanderbilt, as a robber baron. Without knowing it, this man of the industrial revolution spent part of his legacy establishing a center for what would become the Age of Innovation. After his only child, Leland, Jr., died, of typhoid fever, at fifteen, Stanford and his wife, Jane, bequeathed more than eight thousand acres of farmland, thirty-five miles south of San Francisco, to found a university in their son’s name. They hired Frederick Law Olmsted, who designed Central Park, to create an open campus with no walls, vast gardens and thousands of palm and Coast Live Oak trees, and California mission-inspired sandstone buildings with red-tiled roofs. Today, the campus extends from Palo Alto to Woodside and Portola Valley, spanning two counties, three Zip Codes, and six government jurisdictions.

Stanford University opened its doors in 1891. Jane and Leland Stanford said in their founding grant that the university, rather than becoming an ivory tower, would “qualify its students for personal success, and direct usefulness in life.” From its early days, engineers and scientists attracted government and corporate research funds as well as venture capital for start-ups, first for innovations in radio and broadcast media, then for advances in electronics, microprocessing, medicine, and digital technology. One of the first big tech companies in Silicon Valley—Federal Telegraph, which produced radios—was started by a young Stanford graduate in 1909. The university’s first president, David Starr Jordan, was an angel investor. 

Frederick Terman, an engineer who joined the faculty in 1925, became the dean of the School of Engineering after the Second World War and the provost in 1955. He is often called “the father of Silicon Valley.” In the thirties, he encouraged two of his students, William Hewlett and David Packard, to construct in a garage a new line of audio oscillators that became the first product of the Hewlett-Packard Company.

About the "modern" or industry-tied Stanford:

William F. Miller, a physicist, was the last Stanford faculty member recruited by Terman, and he rose to become the university’s provost. Miller, who is now eighty-six and an emeritus professor at Stanford’s business school, traces the symbiotic relationship between Stanford and Silicon Valley to Stanford’s founding. “This was kind of the Wild West,” he said. “The gold rush was still on. Custer’s Last Stand was only nine years before. California had not been a state very long—roughly, thirty years. People who came here had to be pioneers. Pioneers had two qualities: one, they had to be adventurers, but they were also community builders. So the people who came here to build the university also intended to build the community, and that meant interacting with businesses and helping create businesses.” 

President Hennessy believes that the entrepreneurial spirit is part of the university’s foundation, and he attributes this freedom partly to California’s relative lack of legacy industries or traditions that need to be protected, so “people are willing to try things.” At Stanford more than elsewhere, the university and business forge a borderless community in which making money is considered virtuous and where participants profess a sometimes inflated belief that their work is changing the world for the better. Faculty members commonly invest in start-ups launched by their students or colleagues. There are probably more faculty millionaires at Stanford than at any other university in the world. Hennessy earned six hundred and seventy-one thousand dollars in salary from Stanford last year, but he has made far more as a board member of and shareholder in Google and Cisco.

Stanford stats:

Like other élite schools, Stanford has become increasingly diverse. Caucasian students are now a minority on campus; roughly sixty per cent of undergraduates, and more than half of graduate students, are Asian, black, Hispanic, Native American, or from overseas; seventeen per cent of Stanford’s undergraduates are the first member of their family to attend college. Half of Stanford’s undergraduates receive need-based financial aid: if their annual family income is below a hundred thousand dollars, tuition is free. “They are the locomotive kids, pulling their whole family behind them,” Tobias Wolff, a novelist who has taught at Stanford for nearly two decades, says.

A quarter of all undergraduates and more than fifty per cent of graduate students are engineering majors. At Harvard, the figures are four and ten per cent; at Yale, they’re five and eight per cent. Some ask whether Stanford has struck the right balance between commerce and learning, between the acquisition of skills to make it and intellectual discovery for its own sake.

Stanford's politics tidbit:

In February, 2011, a dozen members of the Bay Area business community had dinner with President Obama at the home of the venture capitalist John Doerr. Steve Jobs, who was in the late stages of the illness that killed him, eight months later, sat at a large rectangular table beside Obama; Mark Zuckerberg, of Facebook, sat on the other side. They were flanked by Silicon Valley corporate chiefs, from Google, Cisco, Oracle, Genentech, Twitter, Netflix, and Yahoo. The only non-business leader invited was Hennessy. His attendance was not a surprise. “John Hennessy is the godfather of Silicon Valley,” Marc Andreessen, a venture capitalist, who as an engineering student co-invented the first Internet browser, says.

The title question, answered from both sides:

Gerhard Casper, who is a senior fellow at Stanford, is full of praise for Hennessy, and the two men clearly like each other. Nonetheless, it wasn’t hard to find a few daggers in a speech that Casper gave in May, 2010, in Jerusalem. The United States has “two types of college education that are in conflict with each other,” he said. One is “the classic liberal-arts model—four years of relative tranquility in which students are free to roam through disciplines, great thoughts, and great works with endless options and not much of a rationale.” The second is more utilitarian: “A college degree is expected to lead to a job, or at least to admission to a graduate or professional school.” The best colleges divide the first two years into introductory courses and the last two into the study of a major, all the while trying to expose students to “a broad range of disciplines and modes of thought.” Students, he declared, are not broadly educated, not sufficiently challenged to “search to know.” Instead, universities ask them to serve “the public, to work directly on solutions in a multidisciplinary way.” The danger, he went on, is “that academic researchers will not only embrace particular solutions but will fight for them in the political arena.” A university should keep to “its most fundamental purpose,” which is “the disinterested pursuit of truth.” Casper said that he worried that universities would be diverted from basic research by the lure of new development monies from “the marketplace,” and that they would shift to “ever greater emphasis on direct usefulness,” which might mean “even less funding of and attention to the arts and humanities.”

John Hennessy is familiar with Casper’s Jerusalem speech. “It applies to everyone—us, too,” he says. Getting into college is very competitive, tuition is very expensive, and, with economic uncertainty, students become preoccupied with majoring in subjects that may lead to jobs. “That’s why so many students are majoring in business,” Hennessy says, and why so few are humanities majors. He shares the concern that too many students are too preoccupied with getting rich. “It’s true broadly, not just here,” he says.

“At most great universities, humanities feel like stepchildren,” Casper told me. Two members of the humanities faculty—David Kennedy and Tobias Wolff, a three-time winner of the O. Henry Award for his short stories—extoll Stanford’s English and history departments but worry that the university has acquired a reputation as a place for people more interested in careers or targeted education than in a lofty “search for truth.”

Stanford and NYC:

One demand that particularly infuriated Stanford was a fine of twenty million dollars if the City Council, not Stanford, delayed approval of the project. These demands came from city lawyers, not from the Mayor or from a deputy mayor, Robert Steel, who did not participate in the final round of negotiations with Stanford officials. However, city negotiators were undoubtedly aware that Mayor Bloomberg, in a speech at M.I.T., in November, had said of two of the applicants, “Stanford is desperate to do it. Cornell is desperate to do it. . . . We can go back and try to renegotiate with each” university. Out of the blue, Hennessy says, the city introduced the new demands. 

 To Hennessy, these demands illustrated a shocking difference between the cultures of Silicon Valley and of the city. “I’ve cut billion-dollar deals in the Valley with a handshake,” Hennessy says. “It was a very different approach”—and, he says, the city was acting “not exactly like a partner.”
Yet the decision seemed hasty. Why would Hennessy, who had made such an effort to persuade the university community to embrace StanfordNYC, not pause to call a business-friendly mayor to try to get the city to roll back what he saw as its new demands? Hennessy says that his sense of trust was fundamentally shaken. City officials say they were surprised by the sudden pullout, especially since Hennessy had an agreeable conversation with Deputy Mayor Steel earlier that same week.

Steel insists that “the goalposts were fixed.” All the stipulations that Stanford now complains about, he says, were part of the city’s original package. Actually, they weren’t. In the city’s proposal request, the due dates and penalties were left blank. Seth Pinsky, the president of the New York City Economic Development Corporation, who was one of the city’s lead negotiators, says that these were to be filled in by each bidder and then discussed in negotiations. “The more aggressive they were on the schedule and the more aggressive they were on the amount, the more favorably” the city looked at the bid, Pinsky told me. In the negotiations, he said, he tried to get each bidder to boost its offer by alerting it of more favorable competing bids. At one point, Stanford asked about an ambiguous clause in the city’s proposal request: would the university have to indemnify the city if it were sued for, say, polluted water on Roosevelt Island? The city responded that the university would. According to Pinsky, city lawyers said that this was “not likely to produce significant problems,” and that other bidders did not object. To Pinsky and the city, these demands—and the twenty-million-dollar penalty if the City Council’s approval was delayed—were “not uncommon,” since developers often “take liability for public approvals.” To Stanford, the stipulations made it seem as if the goal posts were not fixed.
Three days after Stanford withdrew, the city awarded the contract to Cornell University and its junior partner, the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology, the oldest university in Israel. Not a few Hennessy and Stanford partisans were pleased. “I am very relieved,” Gerhard Casper said.
 

Another person who is pleased with the withdrawal is Marc Andreessen, whose wife teaches philanthropy at Stanford and whose father-in-law, John Arrillaga, is one of the university’s foremost donors. Instead of erecting buildings, Andreessen says, Stanford should invest even more of its resources in distance learning: “We’re on the cusp of an opportunity to deliver a state-of-the-art, Stanford-calibre education to every single kid around the world. And the idea that we were going to build a physical campus to reach a tiny fraction of those kids was, to me, tragically undershooting our potential.”