Full opinion text
OPINION SELYA, District Judge. While equality of opportunity was prominent in the collective minds of the Founding Fathers, it took nearly two centuries for the United States to recognize and act upon the existence of discrimination in the workplace based on race, religion, and sex. Congress attempted to move the nation closer to the accomplishment of our national goals by passage of the Equal Pay Act of 1963, Pub.L. No. 88-38, 77 Stat. 56 (codified as amended at 29 U.S.C. § 206(d) (1982)) (Equal Pay Act) and Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Pub.L. No. 88-352, §§ 701-18, 78 Stat. 241 (codified as amended at 42 U.S.C. §§ 2000e-2000e-17) (1982) (Title VII). These laws were designed to reduce the discrimination which festered in American industry. Yet, Congress proceeded with understandable caution; the initial sweep of the statutes was not all-encompassing. Among those who were excluded from the prophylaxis of the laws were professional employees of educational institutions. It was not until 1972 that this gap was closed with the passage of the Equal Employment Opportunity Act of 1972, Pub.L. No. 92-261, 86 Stat. 103 (codified as amended at 42 U.S.C. §§ 2000e-2000e-17) (1982) (EEOA). The cases at bar straddle this temporal span. They have their roots in a pattern of academic staffing which long antedated the enactment of the remedial legislation referred to above, but they have bloomed in the fertile soil of Title VII as enriched by the EEOA amendments. They require the court to strike a delicate balance between the rights of faculty members at the University of Rhode Island (URI or the University) and URI’s fulfilment of its mission to educate and serve the people of Rhode Island. And, in calibrating this balance, the court must perforce tred in areas which, in simpler times, were deemed to be the sole province of educators and academicians. At bottom, these cases call upon the court to decide whether URI has engaged in a pattern and practice of discrimination in derogation of the rights of women faculty at the University. I. THE PARTIES A. The University URI is the crown jewel in Rhode Island’s coronet of state-supported higher education. Its main campus is situated in Kingston. The University also maintains a satellite campus located adjacent to the state capitol building in Providence (largely devoted to continuing adult education programs) and a unique facility on Narragansett Bay for its oceanography school. As the state’s sole land-grant institution, URI operates various agricultural research centers as well as the state cooperative extension program. As a state institution, the University is subject to the. bureaucratic process. Its funding derives substantially from appropriations made by the state legislature (the Rhode Island General Assembly). The overall policies of the University, as well as its general management oversight, devolve from the Board of Governors for Higher Education. The Board consists of eleven members, eight of whom are appointed by the governor with the advice and consent of the state senate; the remaining members serve ex officio. R.I.Gen.Laws §§ 16-59-1,16-59-2 (1981). The Board is empowered inter alia to establish broad policy necessary for the implementation of goals for higher education in Rhode Island, to formulate budget requests for the institutions of higher education, to appoint presidents of the universities, and to enforce all laws related to higher education. R.I.Gen. Laws §§ 16-59-4(l)-(10) (1981). The Board, however, is statutorily prohibited from operating or administering any subordinate college or university. Id. at § 4(3). The day-to-day management of the University is vested in the school’s administration. The operational hierarchy at URI is pyramidal in nature, with the president straddling the pinnacle of the obelisk. The president’s duty is to ensure that the mission of the University, as defined by the Board, is carried out. During the currency of these events, there have been four chief executives at URI. Werner Baum served from prior to the passage of the EEOA until his resignation in 1973; William Ferrante, who was the vice-president for academic affairs (VPAA) at the time of Baum’s resignation, was then designated as acting president and served in that capacity until August 1, 1974; Frank Newman became president at that time and continued in that capacity to August 1, 1983; and Ferrante, who had resumed his service as VPAA during Newman’s reign, reemerged as acting president for a brief interval until Edward Eddy took office in 1984. Historically, the president has been assisted by a number of vice-presidents. Among these plenipotentiaries, the VPAA is of paramount importance to this litigation. The VPAA is in charge of the scholastic programs at URI. His immediate subaltern is the assistant vice-president for academic affairs (AVPAA), whose major responsibilities include oversight of faculty hiring, setting salaries at hire, and allocation of teaching personnel to the various colleges and departments within the University. Once overall policy has been formulated, its implementation is largely in the hands of the deans of the respective colleges. Sundry associate and assistant deans work under each of these administrators. The responsibility delegated to these officials varies from college to college, and depends to some extent on the particular dean. The final level of administration is departmental. The department chair must implement administration policy within the particular academic enclave. This includes on-line budgetary responsibility, allocation of faculty, personnel management, curriculum development, and the like. In addition, the chair has first-strike responsibility for the evaluation of faculty members assigned to the department, and has considerable say in such momentous matters as promotion and tenure. The department chair has a foot in each of two sometimes opposing camps: the chair is both management and labor, both an administrator and a full-time faculty member. While other administrators hold faculty appointments, none are personally involved, in any appreciable way, in the day-to-day grind of teaching and research. The plaintiffs have sued a melange of defendants; in fact, somewhat different defendants are named in each suit. These include URI, Board-R, Board-HE, the Rhode Island Department of Education, Carlotti, Dr. Richard Weeks (dean of the college of business administration), and Dr. Barbara Táte (dean of the college of nursing). All of the defendants are represented by the same battery of lawyers. For ease in reference, they will be grouped under the rubrics “URI” or “the University,” except where the context plainly requires otherwise. No departmental chair has been sued as such. B. The Plaintiffs The named plaintiffs in these consolidated actions are or were faculty members at URI at various times from 1972 to the present. There are four separate actions consolidated for trial. Two of these are class actions (which overlap somewhat). The seminal case (the Chang action) was filed in early 1977 by Lucy Peng-Fei Chang, who was terminated as an instructor in the college of business administration at the end of the 1972 academic year. She sought to represent a class of women who had been, are, or could have been, faculty at URL A kindred class action (the Seleen action) was brought two years later by four women faculty members at URI. The quartet included Diane Seleen and Greta Cohen, both associate professors of physical education; Sharon Strom, a full professor of history; and Judith Anderson, a full professor in the department of speech communication. They also requested the court to allow them to represent a class of women who were employed at URI, are currently employed, or could have been employed after January, 1976. In addition to these individuals, the American Association of University Professors-University of Rhode Island Chapter (AAUP) joined in the Chang and Seleen suits. The AAUP was designated as the exclusive bargaining agent for all faculty and professional library staff at URI in 1972, and has continued to act in that capacity. The AAUP negotiated a series of collective bargaining agreements, the first of which took effect in 1972; as we will see, these pacts had a substantial impact upon the administrative policies and personnel practices of the University. In early 1983, almost four years after the Seleen action was commenced, Sandra Kraynek, an assistant professor of nursing, brought suit. She sought only individual relief for alleged violation of the Equal Pay Act. Soon thereafter, Wendy Roworth, an associate professor of art history, filed suit alleging violations of Title VII. She purported to sue both in her individual capacity and as a putative class representative (but, inasmuch as class certification was never sought, her action stands as a personal claim only). All of the plaintiffs share common counsel. These, then, are the various major actors and actresses in this long-playing drama. With the main players in mind, the court turns its attention to the winding path so tortuously followed by this litigation. II. TRAVEL While it can persuasively be argued that the events which led to this litigation began many decades ago, the stage was set for opening night when the defendant Weeks became the dean of the college of business administration in 1970. Weeks promptly terminated all faculty members not (i) holding doctoral degrees or (ii) then enrolled in doctoral programs. His professed aim was to upgrade the quality of the college. One of those affected by the new policy was Chang, then an instructor of mathematics and statistics. Following her termination, Chang sought relief from the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC). The EEOC, as was and is its policy, see Black v. Brown University, 555 F.Supp. 880, 881 (D.R.I.1983), sent the complaint to the Rhode Island Human Rights Commission (RIHRC) for investigation. The RIHRC found no violation. The EEOC did, however, issue a right-to-sue letter. Chang, after receipt of this billet-doux, turned to the courts. Chang’s suit alleged that URI discriminated against her on the basis of gender both in terminating her contract and theretofore, in paying her under scale during her employment. She also alleged that URI’s failure to rehire her at a time when the University, as she viewed it, engaged males with equal or lesser qualifications constituted discrimination in violation of Title VII. Her complaint contained allegations that her exposure to the pernicious effects of discrimination was but one example of a pattern and practice of disparate treatment which URI routinely utilized to the detriment of women faculty with regard to recruitment and hiring, rank at hire, pay at hire, promotion, annual compensation, tenure, and termination since March 24, 1972 (the effective date of the EEOA amendments and the date upon which Title VII became applicable to the Chang class). The lawsuit filed by the Seleen litigants is strikingly similar to the Chang action in its pattern and practice averments. There are differences, of course, in the dates from which the litigation seeks class certification and in the claims of discrimination allegedly visited upon the putative class representatives. And the Seleen litigants only challenged URI’s practices with respect to annual compensation, promotion, and tenure. After the commencement of these suits, motions were filed seeking class certification pursuant to Fed.R.Civ.P. 23. In addition, the plaintiffs sought consolidation of the two actions pursuant to Fed.R.Civ.P. 42(a). In an unpublished order and memorandum dated September 2, 1980, Judge Pettine granted consolidation and certified the following class: All women faculty members who are now employed at URI; who might become employed at URI; who were employed at URI on or after March 24, 1972; and all women applicants for faculty employment on or after March 24, 1972. URI did not placidly acquiesce in class certification. The University repeatedly requested reconsideration and renewed its challenge to the timeliness of the Chang litigation. See note 4, ante. Judge Pettine rejected these initiatives on every such occasion. Subsequent to the rendition of the decisions of the Supreme Court in two significant Title VII cases, Delaware State College v. Ricks, 449 U.S. 250, 101 S.Ct. 498, 66 L.Ed.2d 431 (1980) and General Telephone Co. v. Falcon, 457 U.S. 147, 102 S.Ct. 2364, 72 L.Ed.2d 740 (1982), the judge agreed that reconsideration might be in order. URI also filed a motion for summary judgment under Fed.R.Civ.P. 56, based on these newly-emergent precedents. Before a hearing could be scheduled, however, the cases were coincidentally transferred from Judge Pettine’s calendar. Thereafter, in Chang v. URI, 554 F.Supp. 1203 (D.R.I.1983), this court denied the defense request for brevis disposition, holding that the defendants had failed to negate the existence of genuine issues of material fact. Id. at 1206. And, in an unpublished memorandum and order dated March 3, 1983, this court undertook reconsideration of the class certification question in the afterglow of Ricks and Falcon. Since the decision to terminate Chang occurred in December of 1971 (when Weeks decided not to renew Chang’s contract) and was communicated to her at that point, Ricks barred Chang’s Title VII claim for discriminatory treatment anent her separation from service despite the fact that the dismissal was not to take effect until after March 24, 1972, see Ricks, 449 U.S. at 259, 101 S.Ct. at 504; and this court so held, awarding partial summary judgment for the defendants vis-a-vis Chang’s termination claim. Chang v. U.R.I., C.A. No. 77-0070S, at — (D.R.I. March 2, 1983). This court noted, however, that Chang’s compensation claim was not, on its face, time-barred under Title VII inasmuch as she had continued to receive periodic salary payments after March of 1972; and that a nexus existed between compensation, promotion, tenure, and termination. Id. at 11-14. Given that linkage, Chang’s claim was found to be sufficiently typical of the plaintiffs in the class and she was held to be. a person who would adequately represent class interests in the litigation. Id. at 15. Thus, this court declined the invitation to tamper with the contours of the class as previously certified. Both of the individual actions were commenced in early 1983. The plaintiffs were and are women faculty members, and each was and is a member of the Chang/Seleen class. Roworth’s suit alleged that she was discriminated against on the basis of sex because less qualified or equally qualified males received early promotion and tenure while she did not. Kray nek’s action alleged violations of the Equal Pay Act and Title VII with regard to the compensation which she received as an assistant professor of nursing. In mid-1983, the Roworth and Kraynek cases were consolidated with Chang and Seleen for trial. The court thereafter bifurcated the issues, electing to try the liability issues in advance of any consideration of damages. The culpability phase of the consolidated eases was tried to the court for approximately eleven weeks. A complete trial transcript was subsequently obtained and a briefing schedule was arranged. The liability issues were taken under advisement in mid-1984. The court having heard the testimony, reviewed the transcript, studied the myriad exhibits, and ingested the amplitudinous briefs of the parties, this opinion constitutes the court’s findings of fact and conclusions of law. Fed.R.Civ.P. 52(a). The protracted time span to which the litigation related and the voluminous evidence (both documentary and testimonial) which has been proffered, coupled with the complexity of the questions presented, renders it virtually obligatory that these findings and conclusions be woven together as part of the warp and woof of a unitary fabric. So, the court abjures the neat compartmentalization of factual and legal matters in favor of an endeavor to spin a seamless, homogenized web. III. THE STATUTORY FRAMEWORK A brief exegesis of the statutory mosaic is desirable in order to place the issues and the court’s findings of fact into perspective. Congress enacted the Equal Pay Act in an effort to eradicate the archaic notion that men, because of the posturings encouraged by societal role-playing, should be compensated more generously than women. Central to the legislative anodyne was the concept that industry must pay equal dollars for substantially the same work, irrespective of the workers’ gender. Corning Glass Works v. Brennan, 417 U.S. 188, 195, 94 S.Ct. 2223, 2228, 41 L.Ed.2d 1 (1974). Though it was an important early step, the Equal Pay Act was not a panacea. Discrimination in the workplace was not limited to compensation disparaties between men and women. Unwilling to settle for a partial loaf in the face of the burgeoning demands of a fast-changing America, Congress proceeded to enact Title VII. Broader in its focus, Title VII banned discrimination in: “compensation, terms, conditions, or privileges of employment, because of such individual’s race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.” 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(a)(l) (1982). While these legislative initiatives did not magically transform the employment landscape overnight, they had their intended effect. Discrimination in employment began gradually to abate. In their initial incarnation, however, these acts were less than all-embracing. One notable exception to the reach of Title VII was the class comprised of the faculty of educational institutions. Powell v. Syracuse University, 580 F.2d 1150, 1154 (2d Cir.), cert. denied, 439 U.S. 984, 99 S.Ct. 576, 58 L.Ed.2d 656 (1978). And, to complicate the problem, the unamended version of the Equal Pay Act did not apply to professional employees of educational institutions. Compare 29 U.S.C. § 213(a) (1970) with 29 U.S.C. § 213(a) (1982). For those concerned with secondary education, 1972 was a watershed year: Congress passed both the EEOA and the Education Amendments of 1972, P.L. No. 92-318, Tit. IX, 86 Stat. 235, 373 (Title IX). The former removed the exemption theretofore contained in Title VII for faculty members of educational institutions. Powell v. Syracuse University, 580 F.2d at 1154. And, Title IX left educational institutions subject to the dictates of the Equal Pay Act with respect to remunerative discrimination on the basis of sex. The regulations implementing Title IX required, inter alia, that each college and/or university conduct self-evaluation studies in order to root out discriminatory practices in all areas (including faculty employment). See 34 C.F.R. § 106.3 (1984). The effective date of the EEOA was, as noted above, March 24, 1972. Title IX became applicable to educational institutions on July 1 of that year. Statutes rarely exist unembellished by subsequent interpretation, and the laws at issue here are no exception to this rule. Various executive orders (at both state and federal levels) and agency regulations have been promulgated to assist and insure compliance with Title VII and with the Equal Pay Act. These refinements play an important part in constructing the backdrop against which this litigation has been played out. Perhaps the most significant of these mandates was Executive Order 11375 (FEO), issued by President Johnson in 1967. It served to extend Title VII’s coverage to all federal government contractors. Given the level of federal involvement in the funding of higher education and research, the FEO implicated many universities; URI was — and remains — a “federal contractor” within the reach of the FEO. Shortly after issuance of the FEO, the EEOC adopted a myriad of regulations, requiring federal contractors, among other things, to sponsor affirmative action plans and to designate affirmative action officers. See 29 C.F.R. §§ 1608.1-12 (1984). Rhode Island lagged behind. But, on May 16, 1972, then Governor Licht issued Executive Order No. 27 which prohibited discrimination on the basis of sex by any state agency. The governor further explicated this mandate on August 28, 1972 when he issued Executive Order No. 32, an edict which contemplated the formulation of equal employment plans and the nomination of compliance officers. Later that year, the Board adopted regulations requiring the appointment of a full-time affirmative action officer (AA officer) at each state institution of higher education. IV. JURISDICTION This court’s jurisdiction over the subject matter of the claims presented cannot be gainsaid. The bases for that jurisdiction need only be summarily stated. These actions allege inter alia violations of Title VII, the Equal Pay Act, and 42 U.S.C. § 1983. 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-5(f)(3) provides for federal court jurisdiction over unlawful employment practice claims. This court also has jurisdiction over matters pertinent to the Equal Pay Act pursuant to 29 U.S.C. § 216(b). Actions brought under 42 U.S.C. § 1983 fall within the court’s federal question jurisdiction as provided in 28 U.S.C. § 1331. The defendants continue to dispute the extent of the court’s jurisdiction, in that they persist in their objection to certification of a class which dates back to March 24, 1972. But, though their post-trial briefs preserve the point, the defendants do not offer any neoteric legal theories or newly-emergent caselaw. The court has disposed of this matter once, Chang v. URI, C.A. No. 77-0070S, slip op. (D.R.I. March 2, 1983), and sees no need to repastinate this tired ground. The court is satisfied that its jurisdiction at least coincides with the issues as framed by the cases in their present posture. Y. COMING OF AGE AT URI The confluence of events which occurred within a telescoped period in calendar 1972, e.g., the enactment of the EEOA amendments and Title IX, the twin executive orders issued by Rhode Island’s governor, and the promulgation of regulations by the Board-R, did not go unnoticed or unremarked at the University. A. The Administration’s Response URI responded to the new laws and regulations in a punctual (if less than complete) manner. Joseph Rocha (about whom more will be told, e.g., text post at Part V(B)) was hired in 1973 to handle a potpourri .of duties, including oversight of affirmative action at the University. (Though Rocha was not URI’s first AA officer, see text post at Part V(B), his predecessor’s involvement was so fleeting as to be insignificant.) Rocha’s first order of business was promulgation of an affirmative action plan. The results of this labor, PI. 3-1026, detailed the procedures to be followed in recruiting and hiring women and minorities into faculty and other professional positions. To ensure compliance with the plan, Rocha claimed a right to approve the subsequent hiring of every new faculty member. While he was unable to object on the basis of qualifications or to demand that someone else be hired, he enjoyed (on paper, at least) a veto power as to whether the department and the administration had followed the procedures outlined in the plan. If Rocha failed to approve an appointment, URI was theoretically debarred from hiring the individual and from placing the person on the payroll. Rocha also gathered information on sundry hires to check URI’s progress in meeting the goals of the affirmative action plan. This data helped Rocha compile affirmative action reports and reply to inquiries from adminstrators, faculty, and various state and federal agencies. Coetaneous with Rocha’s ascent to the affirmative action office, various members of the AAUP became vocal about perceived salary differentials between male and female faculty members. During the negotiations which led up to the 1972 collective bargaining agreement, salary data had, for the first time, been made available to the faculty at large. Armed with these statistics, the AAUP formed a subcommittee to study the problem. Scott Desjardin, a professor of physics and president of the AAUP in 1972, headed the panel. Anderson was also a member. The group, which came to be known as the “Salary Inequities Subcommittee,” compiled a report (SIS Report) which it made public on October 9, 1973. The SIS Report revealed that only 19% of the URI faculty, which then numbered 715 in all, were women; their average annual salary was approximately $4,000 less than their male colleagues. The SIS Report was received by the administration of the University with considerable disdain. Those in authority pointed out, with indisputable accuracy, that it did not (i) distinguish among ranks in certain fields, (ii) include hires for the 1973-74 academic year, or (iii) treat calendar and academic year salaries on an equivalent basis. Despite these obvious flaws, the SIS Report caused a commotion among women AAUP members. Their demands for corrective action came to a head during the following year. In 1974, the original collective bargaining agreement expired. Negotiations took on a fevered quality in an effort to reach agreement as to a new pact before the start of the 1974-75 academic year. A focal point of the bargaining was the SIS Report and the brewing storm over alleged inequities in distaff salaries. During the negotiations, the AAUP proposed the formation of an AAUP/URI joint committee to study the existence and extent of inequities and to devise solutions. The Board’s negotiating team included the AAUP proposal in the tentative contract draft which was submitted to the Board in April of 1974. But, acting upon the advice of counsel, the Board rejected the joint committee concept. In the counterproposal to the original 1974 contract draft, the Board suggested in substance that it undertake, in conjunction with URI, a study of putative salary inequities. The Board also promised to concoct a scheme to correct any imbalances revealed by the study. The AAUP acquiesced in this idea, although it was not memoralized in the signed collective bargaining agreement which ensued. The executed agreement did include a provision to adjust some specific salary inequities. The task of carrying out the Board’s assurances was delegated by Newman, in the first instance, to Rocha. In December of 1974, Rocha submitted his proposals to the administration. His core concept was the suggestion that URI construct a detailed “matched pairs” analysis analogous to the technique developed by the United States Department of Labor (U.S.D.O.L.) for the investigation of alleged violations of the Equal Pay Act. Cf. 29 C.F.R. §§ 800.114-.151 (1984). Rocha also recommended institution of a formal mechanism to unearth, adjust, and review inequities. PI. 3-1065. The Rocha report generated little immediate interest after it was forwarded to Newman. Shortly thereafter, Rocha was discharged. His replacement was Barbara Brittingham. At the time of her appointment, Brittingham was the assistant director of URI’s Curriculum Research and Development Center. During her tenure as the University’s affirmative action officer, she continued to hold her former position and to carry out her responsibilities at the Center. Since Brittingham was a part-time AA officer, her nomination to the post transgressed the Board’s regulations. See text ante at Part III. Newman, a wily and experienced bureaucrat, did not directly confront the question of putative salary disparities. Instead, he commissioned yet another study: Brittingham was charged with the task of examining male/female compensation at URI. Together with Thomas Pezzullo, John Long, Glenworth A. Ramsay, Andrea Panciera and Roy Ageloff, she conducted the first sophisticated statistical analysis of faculty compensation at the University. The group’s findings and conclusions were memorialized in a document which is familiarly known as the Brittingham/Pezzullo report (B/P Report), released on March 1, 1977. The B/P Report uncovered, but did not truly explain, some salient differences between the salaries of men and women. The authors were careful not to characterize these discrepancies as evidencing discrimination. Brittingham and her colleagues went no further than to state that there were differences and to suggest additional perscrutation of the relative productivity of male and female faculty members. The B/P Report quickly attained much celebrity on campus. Many persons objected to its methodology and/or to its findings; others (mainly women) objected to its premises. Perhaps the chief accomplishment of the B/P Report was to convince the AAUP and many of the University’s female faculty members that there was a lack of commitment on URI’s part to recognize and correct gender-based inequities. Three months passed and yet another survey of URI’s employment practices surfaced. This study was one of a number of investigative analyses which trailed in the wake of the regulations implementing Title IX. Those regulations required URI to identify any discrimination in various areas of the University community and to devise methods for ameliorating any such unfairness. Pursuant thereto, the administration from time to time appointed several committees to investigate different aspects of URI’s policies and practices. One of these committees focused on discrimination vis-avis employment of faculty. That committee was chaired by Bernice Lott. Lott, a full professor of psychology, had demonstrated her concern in this area by her service as a participant in the women’s inequities committee of the AAUP, and as a member of the University Affirmative Action Committee. After an extensive probe into faculty employment practices, the results of the Title IX survey (Title IX Report) were forwarded to Newman in June, 1977. Despite the fact that the Title IX Report contained an exhortation for its immediate release, the administration dawdled and did not disseminate it until November of 1977. The major finding of the committee was that the number of women faculty at URI was abysmally low and should be increased. The Title IX Report limned various actions which could be implemented to ensure more equal employment. Some of these recommendations were acted upon, some were delayed or deferred, and others were rejected or ignored. Lott’s committee sought a meeting with Newman to discuss the Title IX Report, but the president never deigned to reply to this request. While all of these in-house studies were in progress, URI was simultaneously under investigation by the Wage and Hour Division of the U.S.D.O.L. That agency, charged with the enforcement of the Equal Pay Act, centered its inquiry on disparities in faculty salaries. In a fashion characteristic both of government and of educational bureaucracy, the indagation generated an abundance of correspondence and kindred paper-chasing. Nevertheless, the U.S.D. O.L. investigation highlighted a number of problems. See PI. 4-4020. URI realized that the federal authorities would not relent without a struggle, especially in light of the complementary ammunition furnished by the B/P Report and the Title IX Report. URI decided belatedly to act. During the 1977-78 academic year, Newman asked Douglas Rosie, the incumbent AVPAA, to preside over yet another committee. Labelled the “Salary Review Committee” (but recognizable on campus almost exclusively as the “Rosie Committee”), that body was charged with investigating pay inequities among women faculty members and making recommendations for specific salary adjustments to cure any such shortcomings. The Rosie Committee numbered among its membership the University’s incumbent AA officer (Sylvia Feldman), Professor Ramsay (a veteran of the group which had authored the B/P Report), associate dean Margaret Robb of the college of arts and sciences, and the University’s vice-president for personnel (Ron Snyder). The troupe reported back in the summer of 1978 with recommendations for backpay awards to 53 women totalling approximately $55,000. Newman endorsed these suggestions, but he was unable to convince the Board to go to the legislature to obtain incremental funding. As an alternative, Newman realigned the University’s budget in order to effectuate the payments. Rosie recognized that the outcome of his group’s endeavors was less than utopian. Despite best efforts there could have been oversights or errors in judgment. Thus, Rosie advocated the formation of a salary appeals board. The panel would, as he envisioned it, entertain protests from faculty members who felt slighted (whether through exclusion or inadequacy of redress) by the recommendations of the Rosie Committee. The AAUP concurred in this idea, but suggested that women not participate in the appeals process. Newman, recognizing that the Rosie Committee had barely scratched the surface, urged that URI and the AAUP establish a merged body to investigate the procedure by which URI set starting salaries for new hires. The joint committee was formed. Its report recommended the systemization of salary setting. The committee members apparently believed that a more rigorous procedure for initial salary recommendations from the deans and department chairs would ameliorate some of the effects of market forces and other pressures which counselled toward stipendiary inequality. But, this was another dead end; after issuing the report, the joint committee never heard from Newman and, from aught that appears of record, nothing came of the recommendations. To sum up, the mid-seventies witnessed a cornucopia of studies anent employment practices at URI, but these studies were rarely translated into meaningful action. In the vernacular, Newman’s overall strategy during this period seems to have been to attempt to talk the problem to death. Be that as it may, any reasoned assessment of the situation cannot be limited to the top echelons of the URI administration; it is equally important to focus on the operation of the University’s affirmative action office. B. Affirmative Action Officers When President Johnson promulgated the FEO, URI became obligated to appoint an AA officer. While the regulations implementing the FEO did not mandate that the AA officer be full-time unless the size or scope of the “business” of the federal contractor so required, e.g., 41 C.F.R. § 60-2.22(a) (1983), the Board commanded the appointment of a full-time AA officer at URI in 1972. Despite these directives, however, the University had no AA officer at all until the spring of 1973 when Baum appointed Monroe Moseley to the post. Moseley, who served on a part-time basis, had a very brief stay in the position. When Baum abandoned the presidency, Moseley also departed. Ferrante became acting president and hired Rocha as the University’s labor relations and equal employment specialist. Rocha had no experience in equal employment matters prior to his arrival at URI. His previous position was a professorship in labor economics at Ball State University. Rocha handled various matters for'URI with respect to the recently negotiated collective bargaining agreement. Notwithstanding that Rocha’s title was that of special assistant to the president and though his job description involved oversight of labor relations matters as well as equal employment, he was the de facto AA officer. The special assistant designation effectively removed the holder of the office from the state’s civil service system. Like Moseley, Rocha (because of his responsibilities in the labor arena) could not devote his undivided attention to the functions of an A A officer. Newman retained Rocha for a relatively short time before disenchantment set in. Rocha was fired in 1975. As previously noted, Brittingham was next in line. Like her predecessors, Brittingham was hired as AA officer without a search and given the title of special assistant to the President. Brittingham’s duties qua special assistant entailed only the oversight of affirmative action; yet, she, too, was part-time in view of her continued work at the Curriculum Research and Development Center. Despite her inability to work full-time as the AA officer, Brittingham developed a systematic procedure for use anent hiring, along with a compendium of accompanying forms. She, like Rocha, possessed the authority to prevent URI from engaging someone as a faculty member if she discovered that the procedures developed to insure non-discriminatory hiring had been breached. Brittingham served as URI’s A A officer to June 30, 1976. At that time, Feldman assumed office after a meticulous nationwide search had been conducted. Unlike those who went before, Feldman had excellent professional credentials and demonstrable experience in the equal employment field. Prior to embarking on her stint at URI, Feldman had worked in a high-level position for the Equal Employment Opportunities Office of the New Jersey Department of Education. After four years and three AA officers, URI had finally bowed to the imperatives of the Board’s regulations and had secured the services of a full-time AA officer after an acceptable search. Feldman’s tenure at URI was, by all accounts, a stormy one. An undercurrent of discord permeated her relationship with Newman: they disagreed as to many policies, and Feldman perceived obstacles in her path in the implementation of diverse equal employment and affirmative action initiatives. The flip side of the coin was Newman’s belief that Feldman spent too much time in organizing conferences and in heightening awareness and not enough time in the nuts-and-bolts search for qualified minority faculty candidates (including females). These undercurrents bubbled to the surface after Feldman planned, scheduled, and coordinated yet another conference on women in academia. In a press meeting after the convocation, Feldman aired some derogatory comments about Newman and his policies insofar as they pertained to affirmative action. URI’s student newspaper reported the incident and printed quotations in this vein which it attributed to Feldman. The AA officer sensed trouble in the wind. She told Newman that the newspaper had taken her remarks out of context. Although the versions of this audience given by the protagonists vary, it is clear to the court that Newman voiced an opinion as to Feldman’s inadequacy as an AA officer and that she became highly agitated and left the meeting in some haste. Feldman lost little time in tendering her resignation, and Newman lost even less in accepting it. When Feldman’s passion cooled and she sought to withdraw her resignation, Newman demurred. He was unmoved by an outpouring of support for Feldman from the University’s women faculty members. Despite the fact that Newman accepted Feldman’s resignation some eight months prior to her departure, the University’s budget for the 1980-81 academic year made no provision for the position of AA officer. Thus, whether by his own doing or by the budgetary machinations of the Board or of the General Assembly, Newman felt that he was restricted in choosing Feldman’s successor to in-house staff who could be spared on a part-time basis. Steven Hines, an employee of the University’s personnel office, was appointed as a part-time A A officer on an interim basis. On March 1, 1981, Hines was supplanted by Harold Wingfield. Wingfield wore three hats: he took on the AA officer’s responsibilities in addition to his duties as the acting director of the University’s black studies program and as an assistant professor of political science. Wingfield, despite the proliferation of his millinery adornment, had some credible background in affirmative action inasmuch as his doctoral dissertation had analyzed equal employment programs in Oregon colleges and universities. The relationship between Wingfield and Newman was less than idyllic. Although Wingfield and Newman met frequently, and Newman was wont to intercede on Wingfield’s behalf in certain matters, Newman often failed to respond to the AA officer’s complaints about the hiring of people without proper regard for affirmative action protocol. While Wingfield’s memory of events was faulty in certain respects, e.g., XXIX at 1-44, 45, other evidence corroborated the occurrence of such incidents and Newman’s indifference thereto. These tensions and disagreements were, however, but the tip of the iceberg. A more fundamental conflict arose because Wingfield, according to Newman, sought both the authority to dictate the dimensions of the protected class from which URI should fill a given position and the power to select, from within that class, the individual to be hired. Newman believed, understandably, that Wingfield’s approach, if sanctioned by the administration, would lift the lid from atop Pandora’s jar. When this gantlet was thrown down in early 1981, Wingfield decided to return to teaching. Newman accepted the decision with no visible signs of regret. Wingfield’s exit led, in turn, to the appointment of Harold Smith as acting AA officer while the search continued for a permanent replacement. At the time of his engagement, Smith had been the director of minority affairs at URI. During the pendency of the search, Smith held both positions, each on a part-time basis. In March of 1982, Smith was chosen as the full-time AA officer. He became at that time only the second full-time AA officer at URI in the decade following the governor’s edict (State Executive Order No. 32) and the Board’s response. Smith’s term of office at URI was a learning experience both for him and for the faculty. He met with each department chair to discuss affirmative action. He continued to follow past precedent in approving advertisements for position vacancies and in reviewing the various forms that departments filled out in order to comply with affirmative action search procedures. He oversaw the mechanism by which offers were tendered. On the whole, Smith appeared to be conscientious in his job, especially given the limited amount of assistance provided by URI. He made an honest, diligent, good faith effort to fulfill the important responsibilities of the post and to achieve the legitimate objectives of affirmative action. Smith still serves as the A A officer at URI. In fine, during the period covered by this litigation URI has had seven AA officers, only two of whom were employed full-time in the position. At best, this evinces an attitude that affirmative action officers were a necessary evil mandated from above, and suggests that URI had only grudgingly accepted the realities of Title VII and of kindred legislation. And, notwithstanding the continual and flagrant violation of federal, state, and Board mandates in the constitution of the University’s affirmative action office, no sanctions of any kind have ever been levied on URI by the Board or by state officialdom. All indications are that the laissez-faire attitude of the University’s administration was, if not a mirror image of a similar lassitude on the part of the Board, at least ratified by acquiescence. C. Affirmative Action Efforts at URI: Reporting Requirements The prime responsibility of URI’s AA officer has been, as one might suspect, the oversight of the University’s affirmative action efforts. Affirmative action has been defined as action to correct the effects of past discrimination and to prevent present or future discrimination without the ersatz motivation of litigation. 29 C.F.R. § 1608.-1(c) (1984). To carry out affirmative action, employers are required to promulgate plans which will correct past discrimination and which tend to ensure equal employment in the present and future. The AA officer at URI was charged with collecting the data for the plan, designing the affirmative action program, and supervising its implementation. Performance of these interrelated tasks necessitated the compilation of plethoric documentation: a summary of the basic data on all employees at URI, statistical delineation of labor pools for women and minorities, comparison of female and minority workers at URI with their availability within the relevant labor pools, and an analysis of men’s and women’s salaries and other benefits at the University. In the absence of this minimal information base, URI could not sensibly shape an affirmative action policy. And, even then, formulation of the policy alone was insufficient; URI also had an obligation to communicate the policy, design a plan to achieve the policy ends, and implement the resultant plan. Oversight of implementation required, at the very least, the installation of an internal audit system and the institution of some form of grievance procedure. The attempt to achieve compliance with these requirements was a long and arduous process at URL. And, the difficulties inherent in the effort were exacerbated by high-level footdragging along the way. To cite but one example, the University’s affirmative action plan required the president to issue an equal employment statement. Newman was aware of this stipulation as early as 1975, but did not sign the statement until 1980. The requirement that URI develop an affirmative action plan devolved as early as 1971. Neither Baum nor Ferrante took any discernible steps in this direction. Newman, shortly after his assumption of office, set the wheels in motion. Despite the defendants’ not-altogether-unfounded intimation that the EEOC was partially at fault, the fact remains that the first formal submission of an affirmative action plan to any governmental agency was not accomplished until 1976. The 1976 plan was approved by the state, but rejected by the EEOC. Four more years of intermittent effort ensued. In 1980, nine years in arrears, URI finally submitted a plan which merited the approval of the federal government. Nor was the failure to effectuate timely and appropriate submissions limited to affirmative action plans. After 1975, employers such as the University were required to submit various reports to the EEOC concerning, among other things, applicant pools and hirings. See 29 C.F.R. § 1602.50 (1984). This directive necessitated the systematic collection and retention of data anent hiring, promotion, tenure, demotion, transfer, layoff or other termination, and rate(s) of pay. 29 C.F.R. § 1602.-49 (1984). In 1976, Brittingham requested assistance in categorizing data from the regional office of the federal Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. Two years later, Snyder, the head of the University’s personnel office, notified Feldman that there were problems in collecting and organizing data for the 1978 report to the EEOC. Snyder told Feldman that a software package was being readied for operation and that this innovation would alleviate data collection problems for 1979 and succeeding years. The 1979 report was filed with the aid of the computer system. But, this report, too, was suspect. For example, the document purported to supply data on applicant flows. Yet the testimony in this trial, e.g., XXII at 54, PI. 5A-5540, demonstrated that such information was not kept. It is plain to the court that the deficiencies in reporting were not attributable merely to problems in organizing data, but also to the failure of URI to maintain records adequate to permit the required presentation to be made. Shortcomings in URI’s compliance with reporting obligations were still extant in 1981. Wingfield notified Newman that the data needed for completion of reports was unavailable. The state equal opportunity agency was lugubriously informed about the lack of adequate data concerning, inter alia, applicants. In point of fact, Wing-field’s criticism of URI’s disorganized recordkeeping continued unabated throughout his tenure as the University’s AA officer. No credible evidence was adduced that the situation had at any time materially improved. To sum up, both reporting and record-keeping were lax in the affirmative action area. Data was not centrally collected, nor was serious effort expended to this end. An inordinate amount of time was taken in the design of affirmative action plans. URI never managed to satisfy completely the paper generation requirements of the EEOC, nor can its failure to do so be lightly excused. Yet, since there is more to affirmative action than recordkeeping, the court must scrutinize the substance of the University’s operational efforts. D. Compliance with Internal Affirmative Action Procedures ■ Though URI did not obtain approval of its affirmative action plan until 1980, it nevertheless undertook interim measures. The University, for instance, implemented search procedures suggested by Moseley, Rocha, and Brittingham. The starting place was the preparation and the filing of a job description for an emergent vacancy (e.g., Form A as devised by Brittingham). Once Form A was approved by the AA officer, a nationwide job search could begin. Under the school’s guidelines, special emphasis was to be placed on affirmative action. The departmental search committee was required to delineate its search process (especially the attempt to attract minority and women candidates) on Form B. The third form in the sequence, Form C, compiled data on the pool of applicants. Once the applications had been studied, the search committee would choose the individuals to be interviewed. This information was supplied on Form D. Besides listing the candidates, that form contained information on the number of women and minority candidates and described the rationale by which the interviewees had been selected. (Expense factors dictated that only a comparatively few candidates be interviewed at this stage.) Following completion of the interviews, the finalists were ranked, and a nominee was tentatively designated. Form E was completed (describing, inter alia, the minority status of the finalists and the search committee’s justification for the ranking). At this juncture, the University’s AA officer was required to approve the search procedure before the nominee was offered the vacant position. But, the record reflects that this methodology was betimes honored only in the breach. In 1973, during Moseley’s reign as AA officer, the botany department initiated a search for a temporary faculty appointee. The department used the “old boy” network, contacting friends at other universities and totally ignoring the affirmative action channels suggested by Moseley. Robert Lepper (then dean of the college of arts and sciences) was informed of the department’s failure to conduct a search within the guidelines prescribed by Moseley. The record is barren of any evidence that the situation was corrected or even that the department was rebuked. In approximately the same time frame, the department of biochemistry also ran afoul of affirmative action. A number of courses in the department were being taught by a graduate student (Peter Smith). His part-time position terminated at the end of the 1972-73 academic year. In anticipation of the vacancy, the department advertised to fill the position for the next ensuing (fall, 1973) term. An apparently qualified female, Dr. Claude-Marie Janeway, applied. Dr. Janeway was never considered for the position, however, and Smith was appointed sub rosa, in the guise of “special lecturer,” to teach the courses. The incumbent AA officer (Rocha) discovered the contretemps and complained to A.A. Michel, who was then acting as the VPAA (Ferrante having been pressed into service as interim president of the University). Michel and Ferrante jointly interceded and forced a reexamination of the affair. They told the department that Rocha would decide whether a supposed departmental promise to Smith, allegedly made at an earlier date, effectively nullified the vacancy. Rocha decided that Smith had no vested claim on the job and that Janeway’s application should be considered. The department grudgingly invited Janeway to present a paper, telling her, however, that she should not assume that she was being considered for an opening. Janeway visited URI, presented her paper, and went away empty-handed. No further action was taken by the administration. Rocha then turned his attention to the college of business administration’s department of organizational management and industrial research. In the spring of 1975, Dr. Craig Overton, the department chair, offered assistant professorships to Robert Comerford and Dennis Callaghan. Rosie put them on payroll without bothering to secure Rocha’s prior approval. Rocha complained to Ferrante, who beseeched Over-ton to cooperate with the AA officer. An audit ensued. Rocha thereafter found that the department’s failure to comply with affirmative action procedures was inadvertent. But, no further mention was made of Rosie’s disregard for the niceties of affirmative action in this situation. The psychology department was also a source of discontent during the spring of 1975. The department chair, Allan Berman, was interested in hiring Wayne Velicer. Rocha became suspicious that the advertisements for the vacancy were tailored to fit Velicer alone. This level of concern rose dramatically when he discovered that Velicer had been posted on the payroll well before the expiration of the application deadline. Upon due inquiry, Rocha received an explanatory letter from Berman which, at bottom, explained very little. The application deadline was kept open. The air was apparently cleared by Barry Marks, dean of the college of arts and sciences, who convinced Rocha that the advertisements were kosher. Rocha subsequently exonerated the psychology department of any wrongdoing. No explanation was ever given, however, as to why or how Velicer had been placed on the payroll before the application deadline passed, nor was any remediation undertaken. Such bevues were not limited to the departmental level. Affirmative action procedures were glossed over at the highest reaches of the URI administration. In 1977, Ferrante, who had returned to his position as VPAA, became involved in the hiring of an acting dean for URI’s extension division. Under the affirmative action plan, advertising was necessary. Ferrante ignored the requirement. After the fact, he wrote to Feldman, apologized, and explained what he had done to attract minority candidates. And, when all was said and done, Ann Byrne, a female, was hired for the position. Not every instance of Ferrante’s absentmindedness with respect to affirmative action had as happy an ending. Some two years after the Byrne incident, Ferrante was involved with the search for a dean of the college of pharmacy. Instead of submitting the mandatory Form E to Feldman in advance of tendering a position, Ferrante offered the job to Louis Luzzi; only afterwards did he file Form E. Once again, Ferrante begged Feldman’s indulgence after the deed was done, but no substantive corrective action was taken. Ferrante and Rosie had no exclusive on such oversights. Leonard Kahn was hired in the physics department based on an ad hoc promise. Wingfield, the AA officer at the time, wrote to Dean Robb and questioned the administration’s allocation of a slot for Kahn. Robb brushed off Wing-field’s inquiry in a wholly perfunctory manner. None of these incidents, standing alone, have any spectacular impact; but collectively, these episodes — and others of like ilk — speak volumes about the attitude of URI’s administrators toward affirmative action. AA officers and their efforts were tolerated, nothing more. Scant recognition or encouragement was given to successful affirmative action efforts. Similarly, sanctions were not meted out when guidelines were violated. Reduced to its barest essence, URI’s institutional attitude toward affirmative action appears not to have been one of outright hostility, but one of studied indifference. E. Conclusions Anent Affirmative Action The court has examined the affirmative action mandates in place at URI, the relevant history vis-a-vis affirmative action and AA officers, the latters’ efforts at instituting affirmative action principles, and the University’s corporate response to those efforts. Faced with repeated calls for better treatment of women, URI’s antiphony was muted and larghetto. It took almost four years to hire the first full-time AA officer; when she left, the University neither brought in a permanent replacement nor even budgeted the position for nearly two years. Almost half a decade passed before a study of the allegations of salary discrimination was implemented and released. Even then, the University attempted grudgingly to apply only the mildest of palliatives. Moreover, despite ominous signs that something was out of pitch, available avenues were explored only partially, or at a snail’s pace, or not at all. Rocha’s 1974 matched pair proposal was shelved for several years; the joint commission’s plan to systematize initial salary offers was ignored; Newman declined to meet with representatives of Lott’s committee to discuss the Title IX report. URI’s failure to file timely and adequate annual plans, its enduring neglect to maintain satisfactory records, and the repeated mishandling of paperwork in this sensitive area, were all of a piece with this pattern of behavior. Mistakes can and do happen; but the miscues here were too numerous, too frequent, and too one-sided simply to be shrugged off. The University’s response, taken as a whole, amounted to a sort of affirmative inaction, indicating a begrudging acceptance of the congressional mandate and a resistance to change. Certainly, the prevailing winds in the URI atmosphere were not hospitable to gender-neutral decision-making. And the Board — which, for example, never sanctioned URI for its patent and long-enduring failure to comply with a Board-imposed regulation mandating the presence of a full-time compliance officer— exhibited no more discernible vigor in the pursuit of the goals and ideals of Title VII. Although the failure of an employer to adopt or effectively to implement an affirmative action plan may be probative of discriminatory intent, Coser v. Moore, 739 F.2d 746, 751 (2d Cir.1984); Craik v. Minnesota State University Bd., 731 F.2d 465, 472 (8th Cir.1984), the lack of an affirmative action plan or the poor implementation of one does not, by itself, prove classwide discrimination. Metrocare v. Washington Metropolitan Transit Authority, 679 F.2d 922, 929 (D.C.Cir.1982). Yet, given what has occurred in the past at URI, and an environment in which biased decisionmaking, while not condoned, was tolerated, the court must view the evidence on the issues at bar in a light shaded to some extent by skepticism. In other words, the University’s overall record in this area is sufficiently blemished that heightened scrutiny is in order in an attempt to gauge whether or not the same vices infected other employment practices at URI. But, the burdens of proof do not change. VI. LEGAL STANDARDS: AN OVERVIEW Before venturing further into the thicket of URI’s employment practices, it seems wise to address the allocation of the burden of proof and related matters — as all of the court’s factual findings must ultimately be weighed and measured against this verdant backdrop, A. Title VII This litigation, as it now stands, is a stew composed of diverse ingredients. Chang and Seleen are certified as class actions, while Roworth and Kraynek are individual suits. The dissimilarities in the forms of action are significant with respect to the burdens and dimensions of proof. The parties in the cases at bar recognized this overriding issue, yet attempted to slip it entirely within the integument of McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, 411 U.S. 792, 98 S.Ct. 1817, 36 L.Ed.2d 668 (1973) as clarified in Texas Department of Community Affairs v. Burdine, 450 U.S. 248, 101 S.Ct. 1089, 67 L.Ed.2d 207 (1981). The Burdine mo