In 38 years at Carnegie Mellon University, Bill Elliott helped transform it from a respectable regional school to a national and even international powerhouse.
Along the way, he revolutionized how colleges recruit students and dole out financial aid.
"He was considered the guru of college admissions in higher education in general," said Ann Wright, vice president of the Southwestern Regional Office of The College Board. "Everyone looked up to him because he always came up with the newest ideas about technology."
Elliott, 66, of Oakland is moving into semi-retirement in Steuben, Maine, with his wife, Joan. He leaves campus June 27 as vice president for enrollment, a job that oversees not only recruitment and financial aid but also student housing and dining, student affairs, athletics, the University Center and campus police.
He soon will surrender his office, a virtual museum of CMU memorabilia, atop Warner Hall. There's a Carnegie Technical Schools lapel pin dating to 1907. But the oldest item is the framed front page of the former Pittsburgh Dispatch announcing the founding of Carnegie Technical Schools in 1900.
He's giving the university most of the relics. His memorabilia include three dozen pennants hanging behind his desk; bottles, cans and boxes linked to Tech Beer (no connection to the old Carnegie Tech); and a tartan jacket so loud that it nearly requires viewing through sunglasses.
Friends say the owner of this paraphernalia is a CMU institution, a man whose gruff voice and curt New England demeanor hide a tender heart.
"This guy is a softy inside," said his boss, Carnegie Mellon President Jared L. Cohon. "He has a heart of gold."
Cohon cites Candace Matthews, the youngest of 18 children born to a widow who pushed each of them to earn college degrees. Matthews worked in Elliott's office nearly 30 years ago and eventually received a master's degree in business administration from Stanford University.
"Bill always watched out for her," Cohon said.
But if Elliott had followed the career path that he planned, he never would have met Matthews.
'Never turned back'
Elliott grew up in Shrewsbury, Mass., and received a degree in mechanical engineering from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in that state. He nearly accepted an engineering job with IBM, but instead took an offer to work in Worcester's admissions office.
"I figured if I didn't like this, I'd always go back and be an engineer," he said, "and obviously I never turned back."
Elliott received a master's degree in psychology from Clark University in Worcester and came to Carnegie Mellon while he was working on a doctorate from the University of Pittsburgh.
He developed computer models on admitting students and awarding them aid.
"He did this long before other people thought of it," said Wright, a former admissions officer at Rice University, Smith College and the University of Rochester.
The models made sure the university did not admit too many or too few students. If it admitted too many, it would not have enough rooms to house them. If it did not admit enough, then it would be short precious tuition money that was budgeted.
Change for the better
When Elliott arrived on campus in 1970, Carnegie Mellon received about 3,500 applications. It gets 25,000 now, allowing it to be one of the country's most selective universities.
Back in 1970, though, about 65 percent of Carnegie Mellon's students came from Pennsylvania; now, nearly 15 percent.
"In effect, we went from a regional school to a global university, and Bill has overseen all of that," Cohon said.
The shift was born of necessity, Elliott said. He looked at demographic data that showed a shrinking pool of high school graduates in the state similar to what is occurring now.
"We, obviously, had to look for new territory," Elliott said.
Cohon credits Elliott for helping to change the face of the university and expand into Qatar where it operates an undergraduate campus for computer science and business students.
He pushed the development of the East Campus, with the Forbes Garage, two dorms and an athletic stadium. The centerpiece of the expansion, though, was the 1994 demolition of Skibo Hall, a drab student union that was only 34 years old, and the construction of the striking University Center.
Many admirers
Elliott sometimes ruffled feathers among peers. His practice of reviewing the financial aid offers of students and sometimes sweetening the pot to attract them was "somewhat controversial," Cohon admitted.
"At times, it might bring with it a label, 'Let's make a deal,' but if you have limited resources, it's an understandable practice," said Susan Murphy, vice president of student and academic services at Cornell and an admirer of Elliott.
Cornell University does not match other offers. Its endowment totals $5.4 billion -- more than five times that of CMU.
Elliott became known for marketing, once a "dirty word" in higher education.
He created sleeping bag weekends at which students could spend the night at the school and attend classes. He began multimedia programs that quickly distill the essence of the school. He started what is now the Summer Academy for Math and Science, a program for minority and low-income high school students.
Even in retirement, Elliott will remain involved with that program. He also will work on college admissions in Manhattan and Qatar, fundraising, student information systems and a scholarship program.
Not bad for a guy who had planned to stay in Pittsburgh only four or five years before returning to New England.
"It's just taken 38 years to go back," he said drolly.
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