A Question of Degree

Blowing the whistle on fake alumni

Bob Harris, 39, had a better forecast record than many another New York-area weatherman. Partly for that reason he had three jobs earning him about $75,000 a year, working simultaneously for CBS radio, the New York Times and the Long Island Railroad. His credentials were impressive: B.S. from the University of Buffalo, M.S. from New York University and Ph.D. in geophysics from Columbia. Despite the fact that CBS required no special education to qualify for the job and his colleagues did not take kindly to the title, Harris insisted on being called "Doctor." Then, two weeks ago, the sky fell in on "Doctor Bob." The network learned Bob Harris through an anonymous letter that Harris had no more formal training than an Etruscan fulgurator and had lied about his degrees. In spite of a stream of protests from loyal listeners, he was fired.

Once upon a time, people lied about lineage; in today's meritocracy, they lie about education. With the rate at which job candidates are now fibbing on resumes and faking sheepskins, graduate schools and companies face detective work almost every time they see an application. Many companies, in fact, have printed up a standard form for checking out applicant credentials. Harvard College, for instance, receives 2,000 queries a year. The Harvard Business School gets about 8,000. Checking up on about 12,000 inquiries a year, U.C.L.A. finds two or three frauds a week. For its part, Yale has accumulated a file of 7,000 or so bogus Old Blues.

The problem is further complicated by degree factories. One, called Pacific Northwestern University, offered a bachelor's degree in an assortment of subjects for $85, a master's for $140 and a doctorate for $195, as well as authentic-looking transcripts. P.N.U. was closed down last spring but not before creating 350 "graduates." Degree-mill operators can be indicted for mail fraud. Yet the legality of lying about academic accomplishments is murky. Employers could sue; but they usually just fire.

Ironically, those who resort to lying on resumes are often capable people. Stephen Guptill, 34, had just been appointed secretary of the office of elder affairs in Massachusetts when reporters learned that in applying for his first job Guptill had falsely claimed two degrees still on his resume. Said Guptill, when forced to resign: "I made a stupid mistake 14 years ago, and nine years of hard work and dedication to the elderly is being ignored."

But plenty of examples seem to indicate that lack of trustworthiness in one area can carry over into others. When Jeanie Kasindorf, a writer for New West magazine, started investigating Columbia Pictures Chief David Begelman, she decided to query Yale, his alma mater, to follow up rumors of bad checks. Problem: Begelman had never attended Yale. Although Begelman was indicted for forgery and grand theft, the Hollywood types were more outraged that he had listed Yale in Who's Who. Apparently they figured that everybody steals money. Says Kasindorf: "It was the fact that he lied about Yale that drove them crazy."

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