[Marxism] David Horowitz (lengthy!)

Louis Proyect lnp3 at panix.com
Mon May 2 12:22:47 MDT 2005

(I apologize for the length of this, but it is available only to Chronicle 
of Higher Ed subscribers and we need to keep track of our enemies. This 
article has the goods on them. There is one revelation in here that 
deserves singling out. The author points out, "The academic bill of rights 
may have its genesis back in Mr. Horowitz's grade school, but it really 
started to take shape after a December 2002 meeting with some fellow 
Republicans in New York. He met with Thomas F. Egan, chairman of the Board 
of Trustees of the State University of New York System; Peter D. Salins, 
the system's provost; and Candace de Russy, a member of the board, to 
discuss the problem of leftist indoctrination in college classrooms and how 
to solve it." So you have to ask yourself how David Horowitz inveigles 
himself into meetings with top officials of the State university in order 
to discuss "leftist indoctrination". Here's how it happens. With a 
Republican governor and a spineless Democratic Party, you end up with 
people like Candace de Russy. Here's some info on her from the SUNY Board 
web page:

Dr. Candace de Russy is a nationally recognized writer and lecturer on 
education and cultural issues. A former college professor, she was 
appointed to the Board of Visitors of the U.S. Air Force Academy by 
President George W. Bush in 2002; in 2005, when her term ended, she 
received the Air Force’s Exceptional Service Award.

Dr. de Russy has been a Member of the Board of Trustees of the State 
University of New York since 1995. Her current term will expire in 2007. 
For several years she served on the SUNY Board’s Executive Committee and 
chaired its Academic Standards Committee; she is a member of its Ad Hoc 
Committee on Charter Schools.

In 2005 she joined the Board of Regents of Ave Maria University.

In 2004 she was named an Adjunct Fellow at the Hudson Institute in 
Washington, D.C., where she focuses on governance, strategic planning, 
assessment, accountability, funding and other issues in higher education.

In 2005 she became a Member of the Committee on the Present Danger, which 
is dedicated to protecting and expanding democracy by winning the global 
war against terrorism and the movements and ideologies that drive it.

full: http://www.suny.edu/Board_of_Trustees/index.cfm?navLevel=2


Chronicle of Higher Education, May 6, 2005
What Makes David Run

David Horowitz demands attention for the idea that conservatives deserve a 
place in academe


Columbus, Ohio

David Horowitz, one of the country's most famous converts to conservatism, 
is waging a one-man war against the academy. Liberal college students, he 
says, see their views reflected in textbooks. His kids, as he calls 
conservative students, have to subscribe to The National Review to get a 
balanced view of the world. So nearly every day, he is on the road, 
promoting his "academic bill of rights" -- a set of principles that he says 
will make universities more intellectually diverse and tolerant of 

If he is lucky, maybe the next generation will read his name in its textbooks.

Mr. Horowitz stands at a podium in the Ohio Statehouse, hoping to persuade 
the State Senate's education committee to support his academic bill of 
rights. A compact man dressed sharply in a brown suit and green shirt, he 
sports a goatee and longish hair, the only vestiges of his days as a 
left-wing radical. First a Republican senator lobs him softball questions. 
Then the hearing, held in March, takes a surprising turn. Sen. Teresa 
Fedor, a Democrat, says she has a list of questions. Her tone, direct, 
clipped, and not at all friendly, suggests she means business. "Mr. 
Horowitz," she asks, "what is your current occupation?"

"Writer," he answers.

If only it were that simple. David Horowitz is a former leftist turned 
conservative activist. At 66, he has indeed written more than 20 books, 
nearly all of which denounce the faulty logic of the left. A popular campus 
speaker among college Republicans, he is a deeply polarizing figure. In 
April a student threw a pie in his face as he gave a speech in Indiana.

Nearly 20 years ago he co-founded the Center for the Study of Popular 
Culture, a nonprofit organization based in Los Angeles that promotes 
conservatism. The center runs an online advocacy journal, Frontpagemag.com, 
where Mr. Horowitz writes a blog.

He is also the founder of Students for Academic Freedom, a national 
watchdog group that helps college students document when professors 
introduce their politics in the classroom. And he is the creator of 
Discoverthenetworks.org, an online database that purports to catalog all 
the organizations and individuals that make up what he calls "the left."

But his major focus now is his academic bill of rights, which calls on 
public universities to expose students to a greater diversity of views in 
curricula, reading lists, and campus speakers. The document, which Mr. 
Horowitz wrote to stop what he sees as the rampant abuse of conservative 
students by liberal professors, also prohibits the grading of students and 
the hiring or firing of professors based on their political or religious 

Universities have balked at adopting it, saying they already have such 
principles and procedures in place. Mr. Horowitz insists they do not follow 
them, and that the government should step in and force them to do so.

Critics -- including many prominent professors and traditional faculty 
groups -- say the bill seeks to purge liberals from the academy and to 
create quotas for hiring conservative professors.

"It's Orwellian," says Roger W. Bowen, general secretary of the American 
Association of University Professors. "He's trying to create an atmosphere 
in the classroom where faculty are not treated like the professionals that 
they are."

Although it's called an academic bill of rights, "it's really an academic 
bill of wrongs," Mr. Bowen continues. "The intent is to take away academic 

The document itself strikes a decidedly nonpartisan tone. The problem many 
people have with it is the partisanship of the man who wrote it.

Republicans, not Democrats, have sponsored Mr. Horowitz's bill. 
Conservative students, not liberal ones, have testified in support of it. 
And right-wing foundations, not left-leaning ones, contribute to his 
center, and in turn, his campaign.

Mr. Horowitz is no Karl Rove. He does not have a large and powerful 
operation, nor does he rally to the Republican cause of the day, whether 
it's Terri Schiavo or Tom DeLay. He describes himself as moderate on 
abortion, libertarian on censorship, and "the most prominent conservative 
defender of gays" that he knows of.

For Mr. Horowitz, this battle is personal. He is feisty, single-minded, and 
like many a professor, loves to lecture. He is a man of contradictions. An 
ideologue with feelings, he is sensitive to how he appears in press 
accounts and admits he sometimes overreacts. While he wants desperately to 
be included in the academy -- for professors to assign his books and invite 
him to speak in classes -- he seems eager to punish it, in part, for 
turning a cold shoulder to his work. And although he contends his bill of 
rights is not a political document, it is large conservative foundations 
that make sure he, and the handful of people helping him, have plenty of 
cash for the fight.

Mr. Horowitz acknowledges that his Republican credentials might not make 
him the best person to lead this charge against the academy. But then 
again, no one else could do the job, he says. It is perfectly suited to a 
former radical. "Conservatives don't have this mentality of changing 
institutions," he says. "I have an instinct of how to fight this battle."

A Republican senator objects when Senator Fedor asks Mr. Horowitz how much 
money he makes. The hearing room buzzes. The committee chairwoman bangs her 
gavel, and the senators confer. Ms. Fedor withdraws the question. A former 
fourth-grade teacher, who will later say Mr. Horowitz is no different from 
a bully in her classroom, she remains unfazed. She peers down at her list 
and asks him another question: "Where do you get the majority of your 
funding for this campaign?"

"My motivation has to do with a young man whose parents were Communists in 
the McCarthy era ... ," Mr. Horowitz says before the committee chairwoman 
suddenly interrupts him. She tells him to answer the question.

"I'm not going to answer the question," he says.

If the senator had not cut him off, here is what Mr. Horowitz would have 
said: Back in the 1950s, even though he was a Marxist, his professors at 
Columbia University never treated him poorly because of his politics. He 
would have told the senators that in all his years in school -- from 
kindergarten to graduate school -- he never heard a teacher or professor 
express a political prejudice in class. Things are different now, he would 
have said.

The academic bill of rights may have its genesis back in Mr. Horowitz's 
grade school, but it really started to take shape after a December 2002 
meeting with some fellow Republicans in New York. He met with Thomas F. 
Egan, chairman of the Board of Trustees of the State University of New York 
System; Peter D. Salins, the system's provost; and Candace de Russy, a 
member of the board, to discuss the problem of leftist indoctrination in 
college classrooms and how to solve it.

"I was among sort of friends," Mr. Horowitz says. "It allowed me to think 

Based on their conversations, Mr. Horowitz drafted the bill, which he 
modeled on the AAUP's own academic-freedom statement, written in 1940. The 
AAUP statement says professors "are entitled to full freedom in research 
and in the publication of the results," as well as in classroom discussions 
of their subject, "but they should be careful not to introduce into their 
teaching controversial matter which has no relation to their subject."

Mr. Horowitz says the academy has failed to enforce that guideline for 
years, allowing liberalism to dominate college campuses and suppress 
dissenting views.

His campaign stems from "the desire to have a pluralism of ideas," he says. 
"I don't want the universities to be conservative. I want them to be 
academic, scholarly."

Mr. Horowitz has always wanted to be a scholar himself.

After earning a bachelor's degree in English from Columbia, he attended the 
University of California at Berkeley. He says he got bored with his 
graduate program and left with a master's degree in English. "Everything 
had been mined," he explains. There was "nothing to research that was 
interesting anymore."

Instead he wrote a book on American foreign policy in the cold war, a book 
on Marxist theory, and one on Shakespeare. In 1969, at the pinnacle of his 
career as a radical, he became editor of Ramparts, a leading magazine of 
the New Left, the 1960s political movement that was for civil rights and 
against the war in Vietnam. He also counted as friends such prominent 
figures in the movement as Tom Hayden and Todd Gitlin.

But in the 1970s, Mr. Horowitz abandoned the left. He says the murder of 
his friend Betty Van Patter, a bookkeeper for the Black Panthers, along 
with his conclusion that the antiwar movement was wrong about Vietnam, led 
him to embrace conservative politics.

When his politics changed, liberal intellectuals shunned him. "For 20 
years, when I have written books on the left, the left has ignored me," he 
says. "It's just what Stalin did to Trotsky."

Prone to hyperbole, Mr. Horowitz does not mean to suggest that leftist 
professors are trying to kill him. He simply believes he has been 
blacklisted by academe. Although he says he was a "leading figure in the 
New Left," professors do not assign his books, nor do they refer to his 
work in the hundreds of courses taught on the 1960s, he says. They don't 
invite him to speak in those courses, either.

To gain the recognition he believed he deserved, Mr. Horowitz established 
the center, which features conservative programs such as catered lunches 
with right-leaning luminaries who discuss their latest books. "I don't have 
a platform in The New York Times," he says.

If he were liberal, he contends, he could be an editor at the Times or a 
department chairman at Harvard University. And his life story would have 
already been told on the big screen. Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey, 
his autobiography, has been out for eight years. "Someone would have made a 
film out of it if I was a leftist," he says bitterly.

He claims he would make more money as a liberal, too, "at least three 
times," what he earns now. According to the center's most recent available 
tax form, Mr. Horowitz received an annual salary of $310,167 in 2003. He 
declines to give his current income, but in addition to his salary, Mr. 
Horowitz receives about $5,000 for each of the 30 to 40 campus speeches he 
gives each year.

College Republicans always invite him. Other student groups never do. "My 
kids have to scrounge up the money off campus," he says, complaining that 
student governments pay liberal speakers more than conservative ones.

Mr. Horowitz accuses the academy of trying to keep him away from students. 
He still reaches some of them through the activities of his center, but one 
senses he would prefer the classroom. "I enjoy the contact with students," 
he says. "I'd enjoy teaching."

Senator Fedor asks Mr. Horowitz another question about the financing for 
his campaign.

"Do I get to ask a question?" he says.

"No, you do not," the committee chairwoman says.

The senator tries a different tack: "How many states are addressing a 

"About 20 states," Mr. Horowitz says. "Most of the state legislators 
contacted me. Rhode Island, Tennessee, Minnesota, Missouri. The one state I 
went to was Colorado, where I made a concerted effort."

Ms. Fedor then questions him about Students for Academic Freedom.

"I have 150 student organizations," he says. "These are not a lobby. These 
organizations are to defend student rights. I have three people who work 
for me."

Sara Dogan is one of the three. As the national campus director of Students 
for Academic Freedom, she helps students push for the academic bill of 
rights on their campuses. "We're trying to promote academic freedom and 
intellectual diversity," says Ms. Dogan, seated in her office in Washington.

The sign for Suite 1100, just steps from her office door, says National 
Hispanic Medical Association. A piece of paper taped beneath says Students 
for Academic Freedom. The group sublets space from the association, and Ms. 
Dogan has a corner office, where she works alone. From her window, the 
26-year-old has a nice view of K Street.

"Most people my age are in these tiny cubicles," she says. A bookshelf 
filled with Mr. Horowitz's books lines one wall. A fax and copy machine sit 
against another.

Ms. Dogan oversees the nearly 150 student chapters of the group that have 
sprung up since Mr. Horowitz founded it two years ago. She runs the 
organization's Web site, and monitors its complaint center, where students 
post incidents of liberal professors harassing conservative students in the 
classroom. She also writes scathing responses to articles that Mr. Horowitz 
believes misrepresent what he has proposed.

If students have problems with a professor -- seeing their grades drop 
after wearing a George Bush T-shirt to class, for instance -- Ms. Dogan is 
often the first person they call. Some days, students call incessantly. On 
an afternoon in March, when many of them are on spring break, the phone 
rings only once.

A graduate of Yale University, Ms. Dogan worked at Accuracy in Academia, a 
conservative, nonprofit organization that documents cases of political bias 
on college campuses, before joining Students for Academic Freedom in 2003.

College Republicans have so successfully spread the word about the 
organization that she no longer has to do much recruiting. "Students really 
come to us," she says.

To start a campus chapter, students fill out a form posted on the group's 
Web site. Some students tell her they have 30 members, while others may 
have only two. "We don't really measure membership," Ms. Dogan says.

Once students have started a chapter, Ms. Dogan suggests they get others to 
fill out complaint forms on professors they believe are indoctrinating 
students, to help publicize the cause. She also suggests they see if 
student fees support a diverse range of campus speakers. And she recommends 
they meet with administrators to see if they're interested in adopting the 

While Ms. Dogan links Mr. Horowitz to students, Bradley Shipp connects him 
to state legislators. Mr. Shipp, 32, lives in Raleigh, N.C., and works out 
of his home. (The center itself is located on the fourth floor of an office 
building in downtown Los Angeles, but Mr. Horowitz prefers to work from 
home.) A former political consultant with Rotterman & Associates, a North 
Carolina-based, Republican media-consulting firm that once worked for Mr. 
Horowitz, Mr. Shipp has helped run campaigns for Jesse Helms, the former 
Republican senator. He now serves as national field director for Students 
for Academic Freedom and helps students start chapters of their own.

But his main job is scheduling. He arranges Mr. Horowitz's campus visits 
and meetings with Republican legislators who want to sponsor the bill.

Mr. Horowitz insists that he does not pick the states -- 16 so far -- where 
legislators introduce the legislation. (The bill has also been introduced 
in the U.S. House of Representatives as a resolution, and similar language 
is also in the proposed extension of the Higher Education Act.) State 
politicians contact him, he says. For instance, Sen. Larry A. Mumper, an 
Ohio Republican, called Mr. Shipp. "I don't know how he knew to call Brad," 
Mr. Horowitz says.

The only state where Mr. Horowitz chose to launch his campaign was 
Colorado, which he says he picked for the wrong reasons. After the SUNY 
officials he met with in 2002 told him that professors there would never 
support his bill, Mr. Horowitz set his sights west a year later. He hired a 
University of Denver law student to help him coordinate the battle in Colorado.

In the end, Colorado's legislature did not pass the bill. But the hearings 
and the testimony were enough to pressure public universities in the state 
to sign a "memorandum of understanding" last spring in which they promised 
to do more to follow the spirit of the document.

Mr. Horowitz has declared victory in Colorado. The government should 
intervene in academe only as a last resort, he says, and he hopes to see 
more such memoranda of understanding. Ultimately, he would prefer that 
universities adopt the bill themselves, he says, but that is unlikely. "I 
called the AAUP," he says. "My goal was 'Let's look at this. Can we try to 

But the association was hostile from the beginning, he asserts. "If they 
had supported it, the universities would have supported it," he says. 
"There would be no battle." (Jonathan Knight, an associate secretary of the 
AAUP, says it is possible that Mr. Horowitz e-mailed the association a 
couple of years ago, but he doesn't remember.)

For the AAUP's Mr. Bowen, Mr. Horowitz is less of a concern than the 
legislators who are taking his bill of rights seriously. "David Horowitz 
himself has little power," he says, "but state legislators do."

Mr. Bowen fears that if those legislators do pass the bill, it will "put a 
monitor in classrooms," increase the role of government, and make 
litigation at the college and university level more frequent and more 

Todd Gitlin, now a professor of journalism and sociology at Columbia, also 
has a problem with the bill as legislation. The actual text of it is fine, 
he says. "If it came across my desk as a petition, I'd probably sign it." 
But "the attempt to rope legislatures into enforcing rules of fairness and 
decorum on university campuses is misguided and perverse."

"Who funds your center?" Senator Fedor asks Mr. Horowitz. She has asked 
this question three times in three different ways.

"Ten foundations," Mr. Horowitz says. "Thirty-five thousand people. I am 
less well funded than the American Association of University Professors, 
far less well funded than the ACLU. This is a bizarre line of questioning, 
if I may say so."

The committee chairwoman reminds him to stick to answering the questions.

"Well, this is an ad hominem attack that has nothing to do with the bill of 
rights," Mr. Horowitz says. "What are you trying to show? Do I represent 
the oil-and-gas lobby? Is that what this is about?"

In addition to the 35,000 individuals that contribute to Mr. Horowitz's 
center, several conservative foundations regularly send large checks. The 
most well known among them include the Sarah Scaife Foundation, which the 
conservative billionaire Richard Mellon Scaife runs, and the Lynde and 
Harry Bradley Foundation, which, according to its Web site, is "devoted to 
strengthening American democratic capitalism" and supports "limited, 
competent government."

According to the most recent tax forms available, the two foundations gave 
a total of $620,000 to the center in 2003. Since 1998, the two groups have 
contributed about $3.5-million. The center received about $3.26-million in 
donations in 2003, and Michael Finch, the center's executive director, says 
about 40 percent of that comes from foundations.

Mr. Bowen of the AAUP says that none of the foundations that contribute to 
Mr. Horowitz's center give to his association. "If they really were 
supporting academic freedom, they should be sending money our way," he says.

The board of Mr. Horowitz's center is similarly conservative. David Keene, 
chairman of the American Conservative Union; Wayne LaPierre Jr., executive 
vice president and chief executive officer of the National Rifle 
Association; and John O'Neill, spokesman for the Swift Boat Veterans for 
Truth, are members, as are Bruce H. Hooper, president of the Elizabeth S. 
Hooper Foundation, and Norman Hapke, a member of the board of the Jacobs 
Family Foundation, both of which contribute to the center.

Despite his ties to the Republican Party, Mr. Horowitz says his biggest 
disappointment is that he doesn't have liberal and nonpartisan support. "I 
have to take responsibility," he says. "It's just me. I'm a hot-button 
political partisan."

But in the next breath, Mr. Horowitz concedes that he seeks people for his 
board for whom he has an "affinity," and that he has never invited liberals 
to join. "I've tried to keep on the board people who will raise money for 
me," he says. "The center is a personal campaign of my agendas."

Mr. Horowitz says he made an attempt (he admits not a "tremendous" one) to 
ask academics on the left, such as Stanley Fish, to support his bill of 
rights. But when Mr. Fish, dean emeritus of the College of Liberal Arts and 
Sciences at the University of Illinois at Chicago, said no, he concluded 
that other university administrators would similarly decline. "They 
wouldn't survive being associated with David Horowitz," he says.

Fellow conservatives don't expect the bill to win liberal support anytime 
soon. "It's a slow process, overturning those that stand in the 
university's doors, guarding leftist ideology," says Joe R. Hicks, a friend 
of Mr. Horowitz's who served as the center's executive director a few years 
ago. "Hopefully, others will join him." But Mr. Hicks says he is not naïve 
enough to think liberals would want to change the academy or embrace Mr. 
Horowitz's difficult personality. "Certainly, he's a prickly individual."

He is also an obstinate one. During the hearing in Ohio, Mr. Horowitz would 
not name the foundations that contribute to his center, promising to mail 
Senator Fedor the complete list when he returned to his office.

Just after the hearing, Mr. Horowitz admits that he does, in fact, remember 
who gives him money. "She wanted me to say Richard Mellon Scaife," he says, 
standing in his hotel lobby. "I like Dick Scaife. He's been utterly demonized."

He also complains that the senator asked him about his income. "Teresa 
Heinz Kerry didn't give her income," he says. "It's like the sacred cow in 
American life. It was too personal. [The senator] said right away, 'I want 
to know what your motive is,' as though I'm proposing to legalize 
prostitution or something."

Weeks after the hearing, with the list of conservative foundations that 
contribute to his center in hand, Ms. Fedor calls Mr. Horowitz a political 
hack. "His whole organization is one big political propaganda tool for 
Republicans," she says.

He bristles at the accusation. "No one, not Dick Scaife, not the Bradley 
Foundation, told me to do this," he says. "The idea that it's a plot cooked 
up in their boardrooms is idiotic." He finds the notion that this campaign 
is his revenge on the academy similarly absurd. He says he wants a place at 
the table for conservatives like Dinesh D'Souza and Victor Davis Hanson, 
not just for himself.

"Of course it rankles," he says of the books never assigned, the 
invitations to speak never sent. "But it would be a complete distortion to 
say that this is about one man."



January 10, 1939, Queens, N.Y. (Forest Hills)


Queens, N.Y. (Long Island City)

     * A.B. in English, Columbia University, 1959
     * M.A. in English, University of California at Berkeley, 1961

A few of the more than 20 books he has written

     * Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey (Free Press, 1997)
     * How to Beat the Democrats, and Other Subversive Ideas (Spence 
Publishing Company, 2002)
     * Unholy Alliance: Radical Islam and the American Left (Regnery 
Publishing, 2004)

On his nightstand

The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky; Quarantine, by Jim Crace; 
and Restoring Free Speech and Liberty on Campus, by Donald Alexander Downs

In his stereo

"I go for baroque," he says.

What he drives

Lincoln Town Car, 2004


Chihuahuas Jake and Lucy, and Winnie, a Burmese mountain dog. He also has 
two canaries and two finches.


Married to April Mullvain Horowitz, a photographer, for seven years. They 
live in Los Angeles County. "I love my work space," he says. "I sit at my 
desk with my laptop. I listen to music. I take the dogs for a walk. Like 
most writers, I live in my head." He has four children from his first 
marriage, four grandchildren, and a stepson.


David Horowitz recently started Discoverthenetworks.org, an online database 
of left-wing organizations and individuals. The site includes pictures and 
profiles of organizations like the American Association of University 
Professors and professors like Cornel West. It names George Soros and 
Teresa Heinz Kerry among the liberal establishment's major contributors. 
Mr. Horowitz, of course, has contributors of his own. Here's a glimpse of 
his network of friends and financial supporters, and some of his projects:
Lynde and Harry Bradley Foundation

The Milwaukee-based charitable organization is devoted to democratic 
capitalism and limited government.

     * Between 1998 and 2003, it contributed $2.2-million to Mr. Horowitz's 
center, according to Form 990 tax filings for those years.
     * Among the winners this year of the foundation's annual $250,000 
Bradley Prizes were George F. Will, the conservative columnist, and Ward 
Connerly, founder of the American Civil Rights Institute.

Sarah Scaife Foundation

Richard Mellon Scaife, the scion of the Mellon oil and banking empire, is 
chairman of this Pittsburgh-based charitable organization.

     * Between 1998 and 2003, it contributed $1.3-million to the center.
     * The foundation is also a major contributor to conservative 
organizations like the American Enterprise Institute, the Manhattan 
Institute for Policy Studies, and the Heritage Foundation.

John M. Olin Foundation

The New York-based philanthropic organization, started in 1953 by the late 
inventor and industrialist, encouraged research on public policy in social 
and economic fields.

     * Between 1998 and 2003, it contributed $1.265 million to the center.
     * The foundation has been a major contributor to American colleges and 
universities, as well as a supporter of conservative intellectuals like 
Allan Bloom, Linda Chavez, and Dinesh D'Souza. The foundation, which has 
spent essentially all of its assets, plans to close this year.

Other large donors to the Center for the Study of Popular Culture:

     * The Randolph Foundation: $245,000 between 1998 and 2001
     * The Vernon K. Krieble Foundation: $125,000 between 1999 and 2003
     * Castle Rock Foundation: $150,000 between 1998 and 2001
     * Elizabeth S. Hooper Foundation: $56,000 between 2001 and 2004
     * Jacobs Family Foundation (San Diego): $52,200 between 1997 and 2004

Students for Academic Freedom

A national organization that helps students track cases of professors who 
introduce their political views in the classroom. The group has more than 
150 campus chapters in 43 states and Washington, D.C. (States without 
chapters are Alaska, Arkansas, Hawaii, Idaho, Mississippi, North Dakota, 
and Vermont.)

     * The center's executive director says the project has a $500,000 
annual budget.
     * Just three people work on the project: Sara Dogan, national campus 
director, based in Washington; Bradley Shipp, Mr. Horowitz's chief 
scheduler and legislative liaison, based in Raleigh, N.C.; and Ryan Call, 
regional coordinator, based in Denver.

Center for the Study of Popular Culture

A Los Angeles-based, conservative, nonprofit organization. Mr. Horowitz 
founded it in 1988 with Peter Collier, publisher of Encounter Books, based 
in San Francisco. Mr. Collier and Mr. Horowitz edited Ramparts, a leftist 
political magazine from 1969 to 1973 and wrote several books together.

     * The center brought in about $3.26-million dollars in donations in 
2003, according to its tax forms. That year Mr. Horowitz earned $310,167.
     * The center's board includes John O'Neill, spokesman for the Swift 
Boat Veterans for Truth; David Keene, chairman of the American Conservative 
Union; Wayne LaPierre Jr., chief executive of the National Rifle 
Association; and Marlene Mieske, who is also a member of the board of 
directors for the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education.


The Center for the Study of Popular Culture's online journal features Mr. 
Horowitz's blog and articles by conservative college students and by 
well-known conservative writers like Ann Coulter and Daniel Pipes.

Wednesday Morning Club

One of the center's regular programs: a speaker series that has included 
the writer Christopher Hitchens; William Kristol, editor of The Weekly 
Standard; and U.S. House Majority Leader Tom DeLay.


States whose legislatures have introduced the "academic bill of rights," a 
list of principles that Mr. Horowitz says colleges should follow to make 
their campuses more politically diverse: California, Colorado, Delaware, 
Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Minnesota, 
Missouri, North Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Washington


David Horowitz is a former left-wing radical who converted to political 
conservatism. A one-time supporter of the Black Panther Party, he has 
canvassed the country this year to make college campuses more tolerant of 
conservatives like himself. He is now president of the Center for the Study 
of Popular Culture, a conservative, nonprofit organization "dedicated to 
defending the cultural foundations of a free society," according to its Web 



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