S C T E CHN I CA L CO L L E G E S Y S T EM ’ S
F I R S T 5 0 Y EAR S
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The 1960s
M O B I L I Z I N G A G R E A T R E S O U R C E
tee) was running for governor, and I was running for lieutenant
governor, and we had a stump meeting in Charleston headed by
Mendel Rivers, the congressman from that area.”
Rivers served as master of ceremonies. West, Hollings, and
McNair each gave Mendel a script with which to introduce them.
Hollings was first. Said Rivers, “The Father of Technical Educa-
tion.” Fritz made his speech. McNair was next. Rivers’ eyebrows
went up: “The Father of Technical Education.”
“And then when I came along,” said West, “Rivers says, ‘The
Father of Techni—Wait a damn minute! Fritz, you and Bob and
John are going to have to have a paternity suit before I go any
further!’”
As West said, “The ideas politicians have are meaningless, un-
less they are implemented. And the real success of technical edu-
cation goes to the people who made it happen. The Stan Smiths,
the Tom Bartons, and on and on. We took the credit, but the
credit goes to the staff, to the people who really took an idea and
made it happen in South Carolina.”
HEROES
On a warm June day in 2012, traffic rolled down Charleston’s
streets around the Hollings Cancer Center. Inside the center, Er-
nest “Fritz” Hollings was holding court in his office. “What,” he
was asked, “would South Carolina be like today had he never got
the technical college training program off the ground.” He got
right to the point. “We’ve got the skills to make the ultimate driv-
ing machine for BMW and Boeing’s Dreamliner. We wouldn’t
have either one otherwise.”
He’s right, of course.
One final story reveals how influential South Carolina’s
emerging technical training program would become. It is, says
Hollings, the highest compliment of all to South Carolina’s tech-
nical training system.
Several decades ago, Andy Grove, the legendary CEO of Intel,
was looking to build a new plant. Senator Hollings worked hard
to get Grove to build his plant in South Carolina. “It was going to
be a billion dollars,” said Hollings. South Carolina didn’t get the
plant. Dublin, Ireland did. And it got something else. Something
special.
In 1996, Hollings went to theNotreDame/Navy game inDub-
lin with the Secretary of the Navy. “We landed and Ambassador
Gene Kennedy Smith had a big party planned that night, but I
went to see Intel’s new billion-dollar plant in Dublin. I walked in
and there was Frank McCabe, the plant’s director.”
“Good God, Frank, I thought you were at GE in Irmo.”
“No, I’ve been with Andy Grove for 10 years. I want to show
you around the plant, and I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Good, let’s go around,” said Hollings. “We put on the caps
and coverings for the shoes and went around. McCabe said,
‘Now, get in the car. I want to take you down the road.’”
“We went down the road and there was Midlands Tech!”
“I sent two teams to Columbia,” said McCabe, “to duplicate
your technical training and Midlands Tech is here. I got Intel’s
plant up and running and making a profit, and I’m a hero here
thanks to your technical training and Midlands Tech.”
He wasn’t the only hero. South Carolina had a few of its own.
In the 1960s, a determined group of leaders vowed to change
the state’s destiny. They forged an era when the Tom Rampeys of
South Carolina no longer had to leave home to find good work.
Men and women could stay in South Carolina and improve their
condition, educate their children, and give them a better life.
A more competitive South Carolina was taking shape. Much
work remained, however. The 1970s were coming, and South
Carolina would show the rest of the country how to train people
and recruit industry.Cam prat. Bondam dium nius abem voc,
nosultu squonc virmihi licaequ ideatrorit iammentriditam, con-
voltodium num linclutuam parit L. Aris? Arbis, sena, notela ad
