Maybe it was too good to be true. Beth Gerardi and Keith Wharton met while they were theater students at the University at Buffalo, married and shared a dream of starting a theater company. Kaleidoscope was born in 2002, a seemingly perfect fit at Canisius College’s 160-seat Maday Theater.

Given a toe-hold, they added traction by picking up subscribers after Studio Arena folded. But it remained a typically Buffalo labor of love, as Gerardi and Wharton rolled out three productions a year (without pay) while working day jobs and—recently—raising their year-old daughter.

It worked for a lot of people. Seventeen actors and support folks earned Kaleidoscope paychecks this season. Canisius’ theater students got hands-on experience with a professional theater company. The rest of us got a deep-discount ($40 season pass) theater option.

Until now. The recent production of “Polish Joke,” a comedy/ drama about a man’s coming to terms with his heritage— imagine a Polish-American version of “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” —was picketed as ethnically insulting by members of the local Polish-American Congress. Canisius Vice President John Hurley acknowledged that the school got complaints, all of them from folks who— when he followed up—admitted they had not seen the play.

I have no problem with an overreaction from arguably oversensitive folks. The larger issue is Canisius’ response. They told Gerardi, Wharton and co-owner Matt Slezak to pack up and leave. After last night’s closing performance of “Polish Joke,” they are not welcome.

For Canisius, it is not exactly an arts-sensitive profile in courage. Pre-opening night protests nearly prompted school officials to pull the plug on the play. Only Gerardi’s pleas that a last-minute cancellation would kill the company persuaded Canisius to let the show go on. But the controversy, said Hurley, prompted the school to question whether the bonus of having a resident theater group outweighed the potential baggage. The disheartening answer: No.

“The arrangement [with Kaleidoscope] developed over the years with our students; it had never been blessed at the highest level of the administration,” Hurley said. “It creates issues we do not want to be involved in.”

The issues go beyond any commitment to theater. To my mind, the eviction is a blow to academic free-thinking and a sideswipe to freedom of speech. School officials even rejected Gerardi’s offer to pre-approve future play selections.

“That would make me a co-producer,” Hurley said. “We decided we don’t want to be in the theater landlord business.”

The eviction may be a death sentence for a company that—even in rent-free space—was living small.

“We’re upset and confused,” said Gerardi, eyes flashing, as she sat in the empty theater on a recent afternoon. “We thought we had a mutually beneficial relationship.”

Granted, Canisius has no obligation to play landlord to a professional theater company. But it adds an artsy element to the campus. It helps the school’s theater students. It is good for the community. More than 2,000 people came to the campus for this season’s three plays.

Yet, at the first whiff of trouble, Canisius headed for the exit. To me, school officials are not just potentially killing Kaleidoscope. They are hurting themselves.

College is supposed to be a setting for intellectual stimulation and exchange of ideas. Closing the door on a relatively innocuous theater company reinforces impressions that the school is uptight and buttoned-down.

Gerardi&Co. is searching for a new home. The way I see it, the group’s exit is Canisius’ loss.