Issuu on Google+


September-October 19861$3. S




t* »

1 ^ -






Happy Birthday, John Harvard


Celebrate Harvard Forever -ii'/A

French artist Michel Delacroix has painted four views pf.the Harvard campus as it was and always will be. Paintings and lithographs licensed by Harvard are available at

Hartmann presents a strong case, for your next case. And you don't have to be a lawyer to need one. You can be an executive. A sales executive. A rising executive. A junior executive. Or, yes, a lawyer. You see, the evidence suggests that whatever you need to carry will be better carried in a Hartmann. Because it will be fully protected, and neatly organized. And all that will help you make a good impression. Quite simply, Hartmann is ^ dedicated to building the best case. With the best leathers. The best tweed.The best vinyl. And the best locks. Hartmann. No one builds a better case.

hflrfemm We don't cut corners.

Du Print TEFLON速 water & stain repellcr

Send for a list of your nearest Hartmann dealers. Dept. 9HM31 0 1986 Hartmann Luggage. Lebanon, Tennessee 37087

and the mandate not simply to equal the In 1983, Audi introduced the most aerostate of the art, but to elevate it. dynamic luxury sedan in the world, the new 5000S. It was so ahead of its time, it Little wonder Car and Driver proclaimed inspired the automotive press to make comit "the most modern and sophisticated fourments like the one below. door sedan on this planet." You'll find this same commitment to But that was 1983. Is the future of the car engineering excellence and technological still being decided at Audi? Take the leadership in every Audi. 5000CS Turbo Quattro with its permanent all-wheel drive and Anti-Lock Braking. So no matter which one you acquire, you will own much more than an exemplary car. It is the kind of car that could only be , You will own the future. For more inforbuilt when engineers are given the freedom to rethink, refine, even reinvent, itudi 1 mation call 1-800-FOR-AUDI. CWAUDI

The art of engineering.

'At Audi the future of the automobile is being decided" -Car and Driver

HARVARD MAGAZINE September-October 1986

Volume 89, Number I

Articles 1636: THE WORLD AT HARVARD'S BIRTH A global perspective. Franklin L. Ford.


BECAUSE WE HAVE GONE ON TRYING 58 in our moment between past and future, encouragement and caution. Peter J. Gomes. A HARVARD CHRONOLOGY From a faltering start to the present, year by year.


FAMILY ALBUM T h e way we live now: a photoessay.

89 Jim Harrison.

THE MAKING OF HARVARD'S FORTUNE . . . and what the University docs with it. IN PRAISE OF REDNESS Harvard buildings, good and bad.

99 Carl Vigeland. 107

Robert Campbell.

"POOR BUT HOPEFULL SCHOLARS" 115 T h e democratization of the College. Stephan Thernstmm. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU The cover of this special issue is an imagination by Boston artist Mark Steele (for more about him, see page 4). He has envisioned the scene in the Stadium on Saturday evening, September 6, 1986, with thousands of alumni and friends gathering to celebrate the 350th anniversary of Harvard College. Steele has brought us John himself—borne aloft by some of his sons and daughters. He assures us that creative observers may discern in the crowd such family members as Helen Keller, Bernard Berenson, Theodore Roosevelt, AnnieJump Cannon, John Quincy Adams. Derek Bok, John Finley, Matina Horner, W.E.B. DuBois, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Cotton Mather, and Lexie, Class Dog of 1862. Perhaps you are among this congregation yourself, in spirit if not in clay.

HARVARD AND WOMEN: THE FIRST 3 5 0 YEARS Slow evolution of a partnership. Catherine Clinton.


THE UNDISCIPLINABLES Harvard's proud heritage of heresy.


PEERING TOWARD 2 0 3 6 Does Harvard have a future?

Edward Tenner. 139

Oscar Handlin.

147 OPEN QUESTION Alumni query themselves on a dazzling variety of topics.

Departments WORK IN PROGRESS: A Pride of Laureates. ESSAY: Reconciling with Harvard.

Robert Cram.


Marialuisa Gal/ozzi.

MONEY MATTERS: A good way to fund tuitions.


John Train. 16

EVENTS: Final program for the 350th celebration.


THE BROWSER: Anniversary reading.


Richard Marias.

GAZETTEER: Visitors' guide to the Square.

Pamela Varley.


John Harvard's Journal Taking the measure of Harvard. . . . Derek Bok, completing fifteen years in office, talks about the University's past and future. . . . Tom Rush's folk song revival. 193

Mark Steele's modelfestivity (cover) was photographed by Ken Clad'.




This Issue In which the editors bow low to the contributors.

Editor John T. Bcchcll Managing Editor Christopher Reed Associate Managing Editor: Jean Martin Associate Editors: Judith Parker, Gretchen l-"riesingcr Copy Editor: Janet Hawkins Alumni Ntm Editor: Nancy Jackson Poetry Editor: Donald Hall E.dimiiallProduction Assistant: Jessica Forth Researcher: Suzanne Holland Editorial Intern: Vi Nguyen Design Consultant: Ronald N. Campbell Design!Production Assistants: Martic Hnlmer, Marsha Goldberg Contributing Editors: Jim Harrison, David Irons, Christopher S. Johnson, Richard Marius, John Train. Consulting Editors: Ormonde de Kay, Willard R. Espy, Max Hall, Jonathan A. Leonard, Kiancis Russell. Editorial Advisers: David Aloian, James Cornell, David Herbert Donald, David Ives, Howard Simons, Aldcn Whitman

Publisher: Patricia Vandei Meer Comptmller: Frances A. Maguirc Advertising Managers: Ellen A. Sonis, Catharine von Klcmpcrcr Circulation and Classified Manager: Hilary Rao Gradation Assistants: Kevin M. Brown. Linda I laviland Accounting Assistant: Lucy Stokey Staff Assistant: Alyce J. Kiley Business Interns: Ann Akichika, Suzanne Deehy, Stanford Makishi, Sylvia Torres, Tamara Woolfork Advertising Sales; Hilary Rao, Ellen A. Sonis, Catharine von Klemperer (display): Lisa Minrz, Jo Monell, Jim Reese /classified) Editorial and Business Offices: 7 Ware Street, Cambridge, Mass. 0>l.i8-4<X)l (617) 49-5-5746 Directors of Harzard Magazine hie. William Bennett '62, M.D. '69, President. George Howe Colt '76, Anne Fadiman '74, Benjamin M. Friedman '66, Ph.D. '71. F'red L. Glimp *5(), Ph.D. '64, Judith Ryan, Charles L. Smith Jr. '50, M.B.A. '55, Daniel Steiner '54, LL.B. '58. Henry G. Van der Bb '42 Han/ml Magazine is published every other month l>\ 1 l.irv.ini Magazine Inc., i nonprofit corporation. Financial support is derived from reader contributions and subscriptions, a subvention from Harvard University-, and advertising revenue. The editorial content of ttttn\ttij Miigiziite is the responsibility' of its editors. The magazine's board of director* comprises teprcsctltativcs of Ilatvjrd Mat;.t/inc Inc., ihc Harvard Alumni Association, the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, and the Harvard administration. SUBSCRIPTIONS: All subscription orders, as well as correspondence regarding service and change of address, should be sent diicctly to Hotvtird Mti&tzmr, Circulation Department. 7 Ware St,, Cambridge, Mass. 02138. Kates. $20 a year in U.S. and possessions. $23.50 foreign. Please allow up to rcn weeks for first delivery. Single copies. $3.50 plus $2.00 postage and handling. Fourth-class postage paid at Boston, Mass., and Srrasburg, Va. MANL'SCRIITS: Unsolicited submissions arc welcome, but no responsibility for safekeeping may be assumed. POETRY: Mail submissions to Donald UaWttan-an/Mayrzitic. Bagjc Pond Farm. Danbury. N.H. 03230. Authors who wish their manuscripts returned should include a stamped, selfaddressed envelope. COPYRIGHT: C 1986, Harvard Magazine Inc. ISSN (XWS.2427.


Fat This is the fattest issue of HarvardMagazine ever published. Physically, not metaphysically. It contains more than twice the number of advertisements of any issue heretofore, which is vers' good for the magazine's exchequer, and twice the editorial matter of most issues, the assembly of which was taxing but stimulating for the editors. It is, of course, a commemorative issue honoring Harvard College, now 350 years old. As might be expected at such a birthday party, some portions of this issue rate high on the self-congratulation scale. But no little relief is provided along the way. Indeed, if the day should come when Harvard critics of alma mater cannot be found, the place should be mourned, not celebrated. Contributors include four senior faculty membersâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Franklin Ford, Peter Gomes, Stephan Thernstrom, and Oscar Handlinâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;each bringing an independent perspective to Harvard's past, present, or future. Architect Robert Campbell surveys its built environment. Journalist Carl Vigeland looks in its pocket. Former junior fellow' Edward Tenner applauds its outrageous sons. Historian Catherine Clinton cheers its courageous daughters. And more than a score of alumni sound off on topics of their own devising. Two contributing editors, photographers Jim Harrison and Christopher S. Johnson, prowled the campus loaded with Kodachromc 64 and captured images of reality to enliven this issue. Michael McCurdy scratched Harvard in wood. Regular contributors Jeffrey Goodby and Michael Crawford drew it according to their lights. T h e staff scoured Harvard Archives, the Fogg Art Museum, the Map Collection (where to their joy they first learned of the existence of a map of the world made in 1636), and turned to museums in places as impenetrable as East Germany (and Philadelphia during a strike) for other illustrations. One might think that there must have been years in the past 350 when

nothing worth mentioning occurred at Harvard. But this is not the case, as the editors demonstrate in "A Harvard Chronology." One commission they particularly enjoyed giving was to artist Mark Steele, whose work helps illustrate the chronology. Especially for this issue, Steele spent many weeks creating eight remarkable sculpted dioramas that caricature notable moments in Harvard's history. They are made mostly of clay and good humor. Steele's studio is overrun by small representations of Dr. John Webster and the like. During the 350th celebration, he will liberate them for an exhibition of the dioramas at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge. While working on this issue, the staff of Harvard Magazine have thought from time to time of their successors, who may put out an even fatter issue at the four hundredth anniversary in 2036. We know we've left plenty to be said about the Harvard of 1986 and before, and the next fifty years will suggest one or two fresh topics. While you're waiting for that fat issue, let this one sustain you. Take your time with it. It has many parts. We hope you find them pleasing and instructive.

Mark Steele and the cover in the making.

Master of possibilities: John Huston. M M H n n

Substance separates film from movies!'


I'm not knocking 'movies.' We all need entertainment. But to really reach people, make a statement of lasting substance, you have to have a theme of substance. 'The Treasure of the Sierra Madre' has not abided all these years simply because it was an adventure movie. It focused on a bigger issueâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the possibilities of life. I always look for substance in everxjthing. I choose the Gold MasterCard* because it widens my possibilities with universal acceptance and recognizes my needs and success with a substantial credit line. The Cold MasterCard gives me definite advantages in directing my biggest film of all... my life. Which at times, quite frankly, can run like a movie.

Master The Possibilities â&#x20AC;˘ 9

C 1986 MasterCard International Inc.

Work in Progress What have Harvard's Nobel prizemen done for its lately,<

A Pride of Laureates Over the years since 1914, Harvard has sent 29 professors to Sweden to collect Nobel prizes. A review of their accomplishments—before and after receiving their honors—tells us something about the dynamics of advancing knowledge. One researcher builds his own discoveries on another's, and the view from the top always shows a further range to explore. Take immunology, a field in which Harvard has a tradition of strength. In 1954 Thomas Weller and Frederick Robbins won Nobels in medicine for discovering—under the supervision of the late John Enders and with the support of March of Dimes—a technique for growing the poliomyelitis vims in a culture. Their fellow immunologist Jonas Salk compared the discovery to "a very long forward pass," which, he said with all modesty, *'l just happened to be in the right spot to receive." T h e achievement that carried Salk over the goal line was the development of polio vaccine. Weller went on CO help find a vaccine for German measles and take significant steps toward immunization against chicken pox and the cytomegalo virus. He is currently professor of tropical public health emeritus at Harvard's School of Public Health. Robbins left Harvard and has since served as dean of

Bloembergen 6


the medical school at Case Western Reserve University, where he is currently teaching. Looking at the work for which Haruj Bcnaeerraf was awarded the 1980 Nobel prize in medicine, one realizes that the immunologists who came before him were pioneers in a field that was largely terra incognita. Bcnaeerraf—the Fabyan professor of comparative pathology at the Medical School—is a cartographer, as it were, and his mappings of immunological processes have done much to help us get around in that terrain. Fie continues today to chart the human system's ability to recognize and respond to the tremendous variety of antigens, and to discriminate between self and nonself, exploring at the same time the role that genetic factors play. What leads him on? "Twenty-five questions are unc o v e r e d for every a n s w e r , " says Benacerraf. Another "map" scientists are using to find their way around the mysteries of life was first sketched at Cambridge's Cavendish Laboratories by James D. Watson and his British colleagues Francis H.C. Crick, Rosalind E. Franklin, and Maurice H.F. Wilkins. It shows a long ladder of molecules that spirals around on itself in a double helix. As a co-discoverer of the structure of DNA, Watson received his Nobel prize in 1962. Flc is currently director of the Cold Spring Harbor (N.Y.) Laboratory for Cancer Research. One scientist who is building on that map is Walter Gilbert. For the development of a technique for determining

the sequencing of DNA within genes, he won a Nobel in chemistry in 1980. Gilbert subsequently left Harvard for four years to work at Biogen, a biotechnicul firm he founded. But he recently returned because, he says, "Harvard is such a good place to work." Currently he is conducting research in the evolution of the gene and in immunology and neurobiology. George Wald was awarded a Nobel prize in 1967 for his research on the function of vitamin A in the retina. He is now a professor of biology emeritus, working on a hook that summarizes his interest in molecular biology and evolutionary theory. He devotes much of his time to world political issues, a concern that took him to Moscow recently to present General Secretary Gorbachev with a statement, signed by 56 Nobel laureates, deploring the arms race. Longtime collaborators David Hubcl and Torstcn Wiesel won their prizes in 1981 for research in the processing of visual information in the brain. Although they no longer work together— Wiesel is now at Rockefeller University—their interests are still in the same general area of neurobiology. Wicscl's studies focus on the cellular circuitry of the visual cortex, while Hubel continues to study its overall architecture (see "The Intricate Edifice," HarvardMagazine, November-December 1984). Their work has had direct benefits in the treatment of development-related visual problems and other afflictions of sight. Much of what we know about intermedian,' metabolism in living cells—the

(JjT he custom coachbuilders *J occupy a revered place in motoring history. Among the most honored of these automotive sculptors is the Vanden Plas firm. A coachbuilder of great artistry, Vanden Plas created memorable limited edition bodies for a variety of marques. The prestigious Vanden Plas nameplate now distinguishes the most exclusive Jaguar available. The fluid shape of the Vanden Plas is a masterpiece of flowing lines echoing the great Jaguars of the past. Inside, the Vanden Plas is uncompromisingly luxurious. Its comfortable, contoured seats are orthopedically designed. Swivel head reading lamps, deep fleece passenger footwell rugs and headrests render it a convenient retreat for rear seat passengers. Resplendent with mirror-matched walnut burl trim and seats finished in soft supple leather, the Vanden Plas passenger cabin speaks of elegant country manors and handcrafted carriages.


The Vanden Plas is a precisely rendered automobile built by dedicated workers. A superbly orchestrated symphony of proven mechanical systems, the 1986 Vanden Plas offers the security of a three year/36,000 mile limited warranty For complete information see our warranty at your Jaguar dealer From its sophisticated mechanical systems to its elegant interior and graceful silhouette, the Vanden Plas by Jaguar is a fitting tribute to the coachmaker's art. Test drive the Vanden Plas today Sample the unique pleasures of the most exclusive Jaguar ever built. For the name of the Jaguar dealer nearest you, call this toll-free number: 1-800-4-JAGUAR. JAGUAR CARS INC

LEONIA, NJ 07605.




Work in Progress

f r^l At T h e Charles, guests are greeted with genuine warmth,comfort, and service. Every luxury expected in a fine independent hotel, plus Le Pli Health Spa and Salon,and the 24 distinctive shops of our own Charles Square. Right in Harvard Square and the only Cambridge luxury hotel in such civilized surroundings. Suites and weekend packages available. One Bennett at Eliot Street, Cambridge, MA 02138 I -800882-1818,1-617-864-1200. TELEX: 857417. CABLE: CHASHOTEL

THE CHARLES HOTEL AT HARVARD SQUARE Member of Distinguished Hotels jgojden Tulip Hotels.


ft Kensington C h u r c h Street, London W 8















building tip of complex molecules from simpler molecules and the breaking down of other molecules to yield energyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;we owe to Konrad Bloch. Recogn i z i n g bis i n f l u e n c e , t h e N o b e l Academy awarded him the prize in medicine in 1964. Currently Bloch is giving his attention to the function of cholesterol and problems that seem to derive from it. His studies have shown that cholesterol is a primary component of male and female sex hormones and that it plays an important role in stabilizing various cell membranes. William Lipscomb, who won the 1976 Nobel prize in chemistry, has shifted his focus from inorganic to organic chemistry, partly because of what he calls "non-contributing factors"â&#x20AC;&#x201D; i.e., a lack of funding. He was honored for his work on boranes, chemicals that are similar to carbon-hydrogen chains in their structure but different in that they are so highly toxic and explosive that they have to be changed, at supercold temperatures, from liquid to solid in order to be studied. Lipscomb is now studying the three-dimensional structures of enzymes using X-ray diffraction. T h e Nobel prize for economics was initiated in 1969, and Kenneth Arrow was the fourth person to win it. Arrow was cited for his contributions to welfare theory and to the theory of general equilibrium, a system, he explains, that "provides a framework for economic planning." Seduced in part by the "more nearly rural environment" of Palo Alto, Arrow moved to Stanford University, where he is extending his theories into the area of individual spending and investigating the effects that the possession of information, or the lack of it, has on economic equilibrium. In 1973 Wassily Leontief became the fifth winner of the prize in economics. He is the creator of input-output analysis, a system of formulas through which economists can gauge how changes in one sector of the economy will affect the performance of other sectors. Inputoutput techniques are now used in eighty countries. Leontief is currently a professor at N e w York University, where he founded the Institute for Economic Analysis. He left Harvard for N.V'.U. in 1975, "voting with my feet" against what he described as the Harvard economics department's refusal to give tenure to radical theorists and

THE RED BADGE OF QUALITY The Rolex4 Oyster• Chronometer. Symbol and substance of the h i g h e s t s t a n d a r d s in t h e Swiss tradition of quality watchmaking. The Red Seal and the "Chronometer" title are conferred exclusively by the independent Swiss Institute for Chronometer Testing. Only after a timepiece has endured 15 days of extensive, exhausting tests with unimpaired accuracy may this official title be earned. All Rolex Chronometers qualify for the Institute's highest accolade: "Especially good results." Thus, the Rolex Chronometer

bears on its dial the inscription: "Officially Certified Superlative Chronometer." It is your guarantee of our commitment to craftsmanship, precision and performance. Each authorized Rolex jeweler is chosen just as carefully; he is the professional who honors this dedication. He is your source for the Rolex Red Seal Chronometer—your own badge of quality.

The Rolex Day-Date'*' Chronometer in I8kt. gold with matching, hidden-clasp President* bracelet. Self-winding and pressure-proof down to 330 feet in its seamless Oyster case.



330 BOYLSTON ST., BOSTON, MASS. 02116 (617)267-9100 • 1-800-225-7088 • THE MALL AT CHESTNUT HILL • SOUTH SHORE PLAZA

Whatever your problem, I'll solve it.

Lately, you and success aren't getting along as you hoped. The cost/benefit is off. You're harried, boxed in, frustrated, floundering for a solution. Do you want to flounder for another 365 days? Or are you willing to invest 2 days thai will change your life? Over two thousand men and women, doctors, lawyers, executives, have invested the time, money and effort needed to create a breakthrough in business, career, social life. Business owners, presidents, scientists, engineers, professors, artists, public officials — you name it. If you're ready to slop floundering and start getting along with success, on a healthy cost/benefit basis, call Riva Poor. Now. RIVA POOR, author, lecturer, management consultant lo corporations and private individuals, publisher of the worldwide bestseller 4 Days. 40 Hours, radio and TV personality. M.I.T.. M.S. in Management and M.C.P.; Harvard G.S.D.; Bennington, B.A. 17th year pioneering the use of established management techniques to help clients manage their lives, careers, businesses more successfully.

If you live at a distance... "Dial-a-Decision Riva Poor's long distance Telephone

Time Package gives you the immediate results you require without the expense and inconvenience of travel. Clients have used "Dial-a-Decision" from Seattle to Key West, from Biloxi to Detroit. You can, too. Write or call for information. Right now. (Major credit cards welcomed.)

Riva Poor Associates, Dept. 1-11 73 Kirkland St., Cambridge, MA 02138 Telephone: 617-86M447



Work in Progress younger economists with whom he had been working closely. T h e twentieth-century scene in physics, according to some observers, has evolved from a patchwork of ideas into an elegant tapestry of theories. Much of the credit for this advance belongs to Harvard-based physicists. One of the first to capture a Nobel prize was Edward Purcell. He was cited for the development of the "magnetic resonance absorption method," a process that allows accurate measurements of magnetic fields in atomic nuclei. He also developed a technique for long-distance transmission of high-frequency radio signals and proved the existence of hydrogen clouds in interstellar space. Now a professor emeritus, I'urccll continues to do research in biophysics and astrophysics. Purcell's first graduate student was Nicolaas Bloembergen, who went on to win a Nobel prize himself 29 years later, in 1981, for his work in laser spectroscopy. "Laser" has become a household word, of course, and its applications— in surgery, communications, the military, industry, even the arts—are manifold. Bloembergen is still busy revealing the lasers uses to us. Currently he is investigating the effect it has on the melting of refractors' materials such as carbon, silicon, and certain metals. Julian Schwingcr was the first of Harvard's nuclear theorists to become a Nobel laureate. His quantum electrodynamic theory—which unifies the vast middle ground of physics, excluding gravitation on the one side and the weak and strong nuclear forces on the other—has been called the most exact scientific theory ever produced. He is teaching now at U.C.L.A. Before leaving Harvard, Schwinger posed a question to one of his graduate students, Sheldon Glashow. Might it be possible, he asked, that electromagnetism and the weak nuclear force arc actually aspects of the same principle? In other words, could they be unified? Glashow took up the question and two years later, in his doctoral dissertation, gave an affirmative answer. It required thirteen more years—and invaluable assistance from Harvard colleague Steven Weinberg—to tidy up and prove the equations, which have since come to be termed the "electroweak theory." Shortly thereafter, in 1979, Glashow and Weinberg were both awarded Nobel

prizes. Glashow has since contributed to major advances toward the "standard theory of elementary particle physics," which brings the strong nuclear force into the equation. "Because we've been

"Because we've been so successful," says Glashow, "we're at an impasse. We have determined most of the hows of particle physics. The next step is to determine the whys."

so successful," he says, "we're now at an impasse. We have determined most of the iom of particle physics. T h e next step is to determine the a'/iys." Weinberg has since moved to the University of Texas at Austin, though he maintains strong ties to Harvard through a visiting professorship. He is currently an advocate of "superstring" theory, which holds that the universe has ten dimensions and that elementary particles, long thought to be pointlike in nature, are actually one-dimensional strings about 10" J;, m long—a size that is to an atom what an atom is to our solar system. He explains that the intricacies of the theory have "sent me back to school . . . to learn the math that wasn't around when I was a graduate student." He is also exploring—along with many other physicists, including Glashow—the astrophysical implications of particle physics. One hitch with electroweak theory is that it postulated the existence of entities—called W and Z particles—that had never been detected. Carlo Rubbia, a Harvard professor who spends much of his time at the CliRN nuclear accelerator in Geneva, proposed a radical design change in the accelerator that would direct two streams of particles in opposite directions. T h e resulting collision would occur at twice the previous speed, and Rubbia hoped that matter— specifically the W and Z particles— would be created from the energy the collision released. The Nobel prize he won in 1984 was in recognition not only

Private investors entrust capital to Morgan for good reason. Morgan performance

People with portfolios ments that offer clients of $4 million or more higher tax-exempt come to The Morgan yields than are generBank for good investally available in public ment performance. markets. 3 . Morgan is also How do these inexpert in planning and vestors define Morgan administering estates. performance? They Most of our trust offiknow it starts with good cers have law degrees. investment results. All apply sound, imparBut there's more to tial judgment to comit. Morgan performance plicated issues, such as goes further. It means advance planning to wc deliver service that help you minimize your is personal and respontax exposureâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;or supersive to each client's vising the appraisal and goals and requirements. sale of a special asset For example: like an art collection 1. Morgan offers or a privately held firm. superior depth of Morgan officer Henry D. Hamilton leads a team of experts who specialize in managing investments for individuals. We'd like to demservice. Henry D. onstrate how we can serve you. Hamilton, the Morgan investresearch, and equity and fixedIf you'd like superior management officer pictured above, income trading facilities. For our ment of assets of $4 million or directs a group of specialists who clients this means a portfolio taimore, we'd like to show you how manage personal portfolios with lored to their individual objecwe perform in all aspects of investthe expertise and attention to tives, as well as efficient and ment and trust management. detail that sizable investors highly competitive transactions. Write or call John J. Cullen, expect. 2. Morgan offers opportuniVice President, Private Banking, ties available only to our clients. All the resources of The Morgan Guaranty Trust Company, We are a leader in publicly traded Morgan Bank support the group 9 West 57th Street, New York, equity and fixed-income investmanaging your portfolio. These NY, 10019. Telephone (212) ments, and also in the developinclude Morgan's highly profesment of privately placed investsional investment and economic 826-7625. MumberFDIC

The Morgan Bank

Work in Progress

Questers Travel with a purpose- Search out plants and animals, birds and flowers. Investigate art and antiquities. Study rain forests, mountains and tundra, seashores, lakes and swamps. With Questers you have time to photograph, absorb, reflect. Your guide is a naturalist, tour parties are small, accommodations first-class. Our current Direclory of Worldwide Nature Tours describes 32 tours to the Americas, Europe. Asia, Africa. Oceania and Australasia. Among them are Alaska. Galapagos, Patagonia, Iceland, Norway. Scotland, Japan, Bhutan. China, Madagascar, Tanzania. Botswana, Australia. New Zealand and Hawaii. Learn about them all. A

Send for ~*vf Questers World ^%

Oep* H 257 F^rk Ave South New Vort. NY 10DI0 (212)0733120


cause is different. "The greatest danger is to keep the threat of nuclear war in the shadows by thinking that it cannot happen. It not only can happen, we can be sure that it will, whether by accident or forethought, as long as such weapons are around." Since the prize was awarded, IPPNW membership has grown to 150,000 physicians in 49 countries, and it has inspired similar groups in other professions. Lown has just returned from the first leg of a global tour to publicize their cause—which, he points out, is everybody's cause: that humankind, the one species capable of ex<|iiisite and profound understanding of the universe, may not vanish from it forever. —Robert Cnim Robert Cntm is a freelance writer who teaches freshman composition at Tufts University and won! usage at Harvard's University Extension.


Worldwide Nature Tours




of his scientific insight but of the determination and ingenuity that brought the project to its successful completion. A year later, to equal acclaim, Rubbia discovered evidence for the "truth" quark, physics's biggest trophy yet. One of his current interests is the detection of proton decay. These experiments seek evidence—deep in a laboratory in an abandoned silver mine in Utah—that would disprove the conventional belief that matter is stable. T h e first peace prize ever awarded to a Harvard professor went last year to Bernard Lown, a cardiologist who received the award along with his Soviet counterpart, Evgueni Chazov, on behalf of the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War (IPPNW). While some laureates complain that the Nobel spotlight impeded their work ("I was expected to give too many lectures," one said), Lown says IPPNW's


Since the Nobel prize was established in 1901, 29 Harvard faculty members have won or shared laurels in every category but literature. Harvard's first prizeman was Theodore William Richards (1868-1928), who received the 1914 award in chemistry for his work determining atomic weights (carried out when he was 23). T h e most recent was Dr. Bernard Lown, a member of the faculty of public health, who accepted the peace prize on behalf of an international physicians' group working to prevent nuclear warfare. Among nations, the United States has shared in the greatest number of Nobel prizes. Among American universities. Harvard is well ahead of its nearest rivals, Berkeley (14) and Stanford (13). T h e s e are the Harvard laureates (italic type indicates deceased): T.W. Richanls George R. Minor William P. Murphy Perry W Bridgman Edward M. Purccll Fritz A. Ijpmann John F. F.nders Frederick C. Robbins Thomas H. Weller Ceorg von Beiesy James D. Watson Konrad 1 . Bloch Julian S. Schwinger Robert B. Woodward George Wald Simon S. Kuxnets Kenneth J. Arrow Wassily W. Leontief William N. Lipscomb John H. Van Vied Sheldon L. Glashow Steven Weinberg

1914 1934 1934 1946 1952 1953 1954 1954 1954 1961 1962 1964 1965 1965 1967 1971 1972 1973 1976 1977 1979 1979

Chemistry Medicine* Medicine Physics Phvsics Medicine Medicine Medicine Medicine Medicine Medicine Medicine Physics Chemistry Medicine Economics Economics Economics Chcmisrrv Phvsics Phvsics Phvsics

Baruj Benaeerraf Walter (Gilbert David Hubel Torsten VViesel Nicolaas Bloembergen Carlo Rubbia Bernard Lown

I'M) 1980 1981 1981 1981 1984 1985

MedicineChemistry Medicine' Medicine Phvsics Physics Peace

Harvard alumni who have received Nobel honors while holding appointments at other institutions include Christian B. Annnsen, Ph.D. '43 (197?, chemistrv); Kenneth G. Wilson '56, S.D. *81 (1982^ phvsics); Daniel Carleton Gajdusek, M.D. '46 (1976, medicine); Paul A. Samuelson, Ph.D. '41, LL.D. '72 (1970, economics); and James Tobin '39, Ph.D. '47 (1981, economics). Other winners include T.S. Eliot '10 (1948, literature) and three recipients of the peace prize: Theodore Roosevelt 1880 (1906); Ralph J. Bundle, Ph.D. '34 (1950); Henry J. Kissinger '50, Ph.D. '54 (1973).

* T h e category of "Medicine" includes both medicine and physiology.

Harvard:! Yale:0,

Now Harvard has what room in any otherfirst-classhotel. Yale can only hope for— Every guest gets afreefull breakfast, and ample an Embassy Suites Hotel. free parking with courtesy transportation. Plus an It's a tasteful blend of indoor swimming pool, whirlpool and sauna. traditional and contemIt's right on the picturesque Charles porary architecture, with a • River, just a few blocks from the Yard. sweeping 15-story atrium and And you can make reservations now. 310 beautifully decorated suites CALL 1-800-EMBASSY, or (617) 783-0090. It's also Boston'sfirstall-suites The new Embassy Suites hotel, where every guest gets a deluxe Hotel, on the Boston/Cambridge 2-room suite with separate living room, line. It'll take Yale years to refrigerator, wet bar, sofa bed, 2 color TVs catch up. and dining area. All for the price of a single



O T E i V

BOSTON'S FIRST ALL-SUITES HOTEL A NEW DIMENSION IN TRAVEL. 400 Soldiers Field Road, Boston, MA 02134 • (617) 783-0090 Operated by the Beacon Hospitality Group under license by Embassy Suites, Inc.

Other locations: Philadelphia International Airport, and al Chesterbrook, in Valley forge. PA.

Essays Humbled by Haroard, one could also feel oneself a part of it.

Reconciling an Unsettled Account Marialutsa GaUozzi T h e Harvard name has a nice, solid, substantial ring to it. Even now it seems to stand out on my resume. It suggests that this is a mind to be reckoned with, not to be underestimated, perhaps to be respected, probably to be hired. Little more need be said. Going to Harvard convinces the rest of the world that you're bright, and convinces you that you're not. Many of us wondered, at one time or another, whether we were the one person in the class who was there to round out the curve. Years later, many of us still haven't decided whether to love or hate the place. Harvard was, for me, a crisis of confidence. It happened within days of my arrival. I had waltzed through high school thinking I could do no wrong— but so had everyone else. I was used to being the "cream of the crop"—but weren't we all? And when President Bok and Dean Rosovsky gathered us together for the first time in Sanders Theatre, to tell us in no uncertain terms that we were the intellectual elite, I realized I was no longer unique; there were 1,599 other people sharing the niche I'd always thought of as mine. Being smart at Harvard meant being part of a crowd—a privileged crowd, t o ' be sure, but a crowd nonetheless. Everyone, it seemed, could do everything I could do, better. They'd all read classics I hadn't read. T h e musical types had performed with orchestras, the dra-' matic types had all but starred on Broadway, the would-be writers had been published—and then there were those who were scientific, athletic, beautiful, rich, or at least well connected. Even my boyfriend, who for a while thought I was wonderful, intimidated me. 1 decided I was a fraud. For years I had managed to convince people that I 14


was bright, witty, interesting, and talented; but surrounded by people who had all been paragons in their own hometowns, I realized I must have been fooling everyone. But at Harvard, everyone would know. So I kept quiet. And I fell in love. I never spoke up in class, rarely ventured an opinion (even in conversations with my classmates), and "comped" for only one student organization. With my new love I explored Cambridge at odd hours, went for walks on rainy nights, and argued about religion and poetry while standing on Weeks Bridge. I clung to him as the only person who believed in me in an environment that had shaken my self-confidence to the core. Eventually we all graduated and left Harvard for the real world. It bruised our egos less; we found that the Harvard name opened doors for us, as we had been told it would. But I have yet to lose the fear of my own mediocrity that I discovered there.

When I went back to Harvard the following winter, I found myself falling under its spell, just as I had the first time I set foot inside Johnston Gate. I was drawn to the Yard with the instinct of

As we had been told it would, the Harvard name opened doors for us. But years later, many of us still haven't decided whether to love or hate the place. one who seeks a feeling that only a specific person or scent or place can evoke. I sat for a while, watching the unfamiliar faces go by, knowing that I was nothing more than that to them. As I sat there the faces dissolved, and I experienced once again the feeling I remembered so well from nighttime walks that always brought me to this spot to

dream. At night, courses and credits, papers and exams, resumes and job applications, receded into the background, and the sky became a broad, blank canvas where I sketched my life, drawing a picture in which dreams took their rightful place next to reality. I never shared those dreams, not only because I feared that even my friends would laugh at me for thinking them possible, but because / didn't believe them. Harvard seemed to have shown me how vast the universe is, only to tell me the stars were beyond my reach. Sitting once again on the steps of Widcner, I remembered that while I had felt dwarfed by Harvard, I had also felt myself a part of it, and I wondered whether I might someday have a place among those larger-than-life figures who had passed through its gates before me. Harvard is nothing if not a monument to dreams and to those who made their dreams come true; it can give its dreamers some of the tools for their journey toward the dream, but it cannot supply the dream, nor the will to follow it. I did not lose my dreams at Harvard, but for a while I lost the courage to follow them. Yet for all the times I was miserable, there was much joy during those four years. I had chosen not to remember that, so I could stay angry at the institution that had humbled me. If I were to give one bit of advice to those who are still there, and to those who, like me, are still finding their courage, it would be to take from Harvard all the tools it can give you but not to lose to Harvard your belief in yourself. It is hard not to feel diminished by the vast array of talent, energy, wisdom, creativity, and occasional genius that you see in your peers and in those who have preceded you; but those things should challenge, not intimidate, you. If you learn nothing else at Harvard, learn not to measure yourself by the achievements' of others but by the progress you've made toward your own dreams. U Marialuisa GaUozzi '82 came to Harvard from New York City. She received her J. D. from New York University in June and is now clerking for a federal district judge in Norfolk, Virginia.

American Express Company salutes 350 years of vision, integrity & leadership.


American Express Travel Related Services Company, Shearson Lehman Brothers, IDS Financial Services and American Express Bank Ltd. Š 1966 American Express Travel Related Services Company, Inc.

Money Matters The grantor income trust, and how it works.

A Tax-Saving Trust to Pay for College John Train A problem most Harvard graduates face is how to save enough after taxes to put several children through school; send them on to Harvard (or somewhere else, if need be); and after that give them a financial start in life. In my column of January-February 1983 I drew attention to the merits of a Clifford Trust as a way of transferring money from a parent to a child for educational and other purposes, and pointed out that a different way this was sometimes done, the interest-free (or "Crown") loan, might well be knocked out by the IRS. Also that the rules for Clifford Trusts might change adversely. Both these eventualities have occurred. T h e Crown Loan is gone, and the Clifford Trust is hobbled. Here is another device for transferring assets to a younger generation. If

If appropriate, this device for transferring assets should be availed of promptly, before the rules change.

appropriate, it should be availed of promptly, while it still can be, before once again the ailes change. Briefly, you give an asset—e.g., a portfolio of securities—to a trust, while reserving the income until a specified future date when the corpus passes to your child (unless you die before that date, in which case the corpus will be returned to your estate). Because since 1983 the IRS valuation tables have used a 10 percent discount rate if you survive the specified date, the remainder interest 16


passes to your children relatively free of tax. Suppose, for instance, that you are 41 years old and put $1.9 million of securities into a trust that runs until you are 62. By that time the portfolio should have grown to much more. However, the IRS tables, using a discount factor of 10 percent, reduce the present worth of that remainder interest so sharply that there is no gift tax payable on the transaction. Here are some actual examples, for which I am grateful to David Oxman, an excellent trusts and estates lawyer at Davis Polk & Wardwell in New York. T h e case I have just described is # 1 below.

1. 2. 3. 4.

tax payable, but it is small in relation to the amount of property being transferred and to the potential benefit achieved. If the property appreciates at 10 percent annually, in 12 years a taist worth approximately $11 million will pass to the settlor's descendants free of further gift or estate tax. Were that amount retained by the settlor, the estate tax would be in excess of $6 million, compared with the gift tax of $322,000 actually paid. This type of trust also makes good sense for a healthy older person using a short "lead" term (the period over which income is being retained). Here the value of the children's remainder interest is reduced because the Treasury

Age of Grantor

LatgfA of Trust

% of Property 'Dented as a Taxable Gift

Amount Placed in Trust

41 59 75 89

21.85 vrs. 12 vrs. 5 vrs. 3 vrs.

10.12 23.55 62.26 40.00

$1.9 million $3.5 million $5 million $4,282,500

These examples involve much larger sums than would be required just to finance a college education, but the principle is the same. In example # 1 , a person with young children placed assets in trust for almost 22 years, resulting in a taxable gift of only $192,000, which is fully sheltered from gift tax by the unified credit. T h e trust will be invested for growth. When the settlor reaches 63, the trust property, including its appreciation, will pass to a trust for the descendants, free of further gift or estate tax. It makes much better sense for the trust to seek growth rather than income, incidentally. Over the long term, if one does not begin at a high point in the market, one can hope for a total return of 10 percent or more. So the value of the gift (and the tax savings compared with possible estate taxes) should increase dramatically. Specifically, if wc assume that in the first example the corpus grows by 10 percent compounded, then the beneficiaries will eventually receive some $15 million tax free. In example # 2 the unified credit has already been used up, so there is a gift

Anionnl of Taxable Gift $ 192.225 $ 824.211 $3,113,000 $1,707,514

Gift lax -0$ 322,477 $1,672,047 $ 803,859

tables tend to assume that the individual will die within the trust term, whereupon the trust property would revert to his estate. Moreover, for older individuals paying some gift tax in lieu of an eventual estate tax, a trust of this type may be advantageous, because if the settlor survives for three years after making the gift, the gift tax paid is itself removed from his taxable estate. For instance— in very round numbers—if a person in a 50-percent tax bracket has a fortune of $3 million and gives away $2 million, on which he pays $1 million in tax, his beneficiaries get $2 million. If he dies with the $3 million, the government takes half, or $1.5 million; the heir gets $500,000 less than before. Thus, in example # 3 , if the settlor lives for three years, $5 million goes to his descendants at a transfer tax cost of $1,672,047. But if the client had held on to the $6,672,047 (the $5 million plus the gift tax, assuming no growth) until he died, then (assuming a 50-pcrcent estate tax rate) his descendants would get only $3.36 million. So the grantor income trust approach, coupled



40 Years of Dividends

History of High Returns This traditional income-oriented fund has invested in stocks and bonds and paid a dividend every quarter since its launch in 1946. More recently, each of the lastfiveyears has shown doubledigit total returns—and for the year ending Year Tbtal Return1 6/30/86 the total return was 26.32%! 10.76 1981 Of course, past performance is no guaran1982 29.09 tee of future results. • No sales charge 1983 25.85 1984 10.62 • Start with just $1,000; $500 for IRAs. 1985 28.71 Ask about a money market companion. 'Total returns are for each of the last five years, ending 12/31. Total returns include change in share price and reinvestment of all dividends and capital gains distributions. Figures update p. 5 of the Fund's prospectus. Market conditions fluctuated widely over the periods shown, although they were generally up. Total return for the five years ended 6/30/86 was 165.67%.

ML l U t l l l y r U n U U l t. U U . U a Formore complete information, including management fees and^ r expenses, please call or write for a free prospectus. Read it carefully before you invest or send money. Fidelity Distributors"1 Corporation (General Distribution Agent), P.O. Box 660603, Dallas, TX 75266.


Name Address City State • Free IRA fact kit (PURI) • Free Keogh fact kit (PURK) Call free 24 hours.

1-800-544-6666 In Mass. call collect 617-523-1919



Money Matters with removing gift tax from the taxable estate, saves over $1.6 million in tax. If the settlor dies within the trust term, the tax saving is lost, as the trust becomes subject to estate tax. But the tax cost in most cases is no higher than it would have been anyway. The only loss is the growth on the money that was used to pay the gift tax. While the trust continues, the income is of course taxable to the settlor.

But who pays the capital gains tax? The answer is somewhat unclear. Some commentators take the position that the trust should pay. If, however, it is eventually held that the settlor should pay it, this in fact helps the trust. To be sure, there is a risk that such payments might constitute a further taxable gift, but that should not be a deterrent. If this issue became significant, the trustees could avoid realizing capital gains, or (where

AMIRRORIMAGE OF A CIVILIZED CITY Overlooking the Boston Public Garden is a new hotel that reflects the character and style of a city known for its old world charm and contemporary spirit.

possible under state law) have the crust pay the tax, thus avoiding a gift. It is important that under the particular state law involved the settlor's creditors have no right to reach the trust corpus. Otherwise, creating the trust would not constitute a complete gift until the end of the reserved income term, when the corpus would be subject to gift tax at its then value. For a mutual client of his and mine, David Oxman has devised a plan under which all income is distributed to the settlor until 1998, whereupon the mist splits into separate sprinkling trusts for the children and their descendants. (If the settlor dies before then, the trust goes into his estate.) The trust agreement further provides for a protector, who until 1998 can change the trust terms. This is to cope with generationskipping tax. As things stand now, the sprinkling trusts for the children are subject to the present generation-skipping tax, which, however, is unworkable and is likely to be changed. A trust created now may fall between the cracks: the repeal of the generationskipping trust may be retroactive, while the new law may only be prospective from the date of its creation. But it may be that to qualify for a "grandchild exclusion," property would have to pass to grandchildren outright, and if necessary the protector could arrange for that. The games made possible by anomalies in the IRS tables work both ways.

The games made possible by anomalies in Internal Revenue Service valuation tables can work both ways.

FburSeasonsHotel BOSTON 200 Boy lston Street Boston, Massachusetts 02116 (617) 338-4400 Telex: 853349



Some years ago, for instance, the IRS tables assumed only a 6 percenc discount figure. So one could invest in municipals then yielding 10 percenc and give a remainder interest to one's children while reserving a 10 percent annuity for oneself. Under the then IRS table, the remainder subject to such a high annuity had little value, so the parent was able to enjoy the same income that he/she would have had anyway,

"There's no reason in the world

why you carit have a banking relationship where both people smile? -Marc Villa, President, North Atlantic Timber and Shipping Company

jobs in the small town of Hardwick, Massachusetts. Marc knew he would be able to compete aggressively with subsidized foreign exporters if he could substantially reduce costs. The solutionâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;build a kiln to dry his own wood, up to 500 trailer truckloads a year. And that required hefty financing. That's when BayBanks came in. Throughout his years of export experience, Marc had several banking relationships. He was anxious to find the right financial partner to help him build his kiln and his business. He found BayBanks believed in close, long-term relationships as well. And BayBanks believed in him. In 1981, Marc Villa began exporting the finest oak, a ash, and cherry hardwoods to furniture artisans throughout Europe. Now North Atlantic Timber and Shipping Company is a successful $10 million company, whose business stretches all the way from the Northeast to the Far East.

ot many exporters are smiling these N days. With the volatility of the dollar, strict federal regulations, strong

M y European customers like to develop real relationships, a bond. I was hoping tofindthe same in a banker."

foreign competition, and communications differences, exporting is a difficult business. In the capital-intensive, labor-intensive timber industry, exporting might seem impossible. But one man's consternation is another man's challenge. Marc Villa's. He saw exporting timber as a way to complement domestic activities, bring money into the U.S., and provide

Officers from BayBanks worked closely with several government agencies, including the Massachusetts Industrial Finance Agency, to secure a grant for the kiln. Taking advantage of the small business programs offered by the Export-Import Bank of the United States, BayBanks helped develop an assetbased credit facility which provides working capital for North Atlantic.

BayBanks has harnessed other government programs that enable North Atlantic to acquire inventory and carry accounts receivable. Under Eximbank's working capital guarantee, BayBanks finances Marc's timber purchases. This guarantee is one of only 53 such loans granted since the program's inception. The company's overseas accounts receivable are insured against political and commercial risks under an insurance policy issued by the Foreign Credit Insurance Association, a marketing arm of Eximbank. To keep on top of Marc's fastpaced, complicated business, an attentive, innovative banker is especially important. At BayBanks, Marc has many. a

M y banker knows what color socks I'm wearing and exactly what's going on in my business. For the first time in my banking relationships, I'm content."

He depends on BayBanks experts who specialize in asset-based lending, mo.iey market investments, cash management, and internationalfinance.All coordinated by one Corporate Financial Officer who follows North Atlantic's local, federal, and international transactions from Hardwick to Hong Kong. So, why is this man smiling? Because his customers are. Because his employees are. And that means at BayBanks, we are. You know BayBanks as a leader in personal banking service. You'll find our $6 billion corporate financial network is a leader in banking services for New England business as well. Ask Marc Villa. Or any of our many other corporate customers. For more information, callBayBank Boston. 617-482-1040.

BayBanks' Corporate Banking Network7

American Museum of Natural _.«?«!• History Discovery lours Join Museum lecturers on fascinating luxury cruises and land tours. Discover ancient sites, architecture, traditional 'res, exotic wildlife areas, reefs, volcanic islands : and mountain ranges with experts from the world's largest natural history institution. Call or write today for detailed receive a special bon Discoverer's •( with interestir

:: : : brochu;res; : a^4::yo« wJI t

American Museum Discovery Tours DEPT. B Centra! Park West at 79th Street New York, NY 10024-5192 (212) 873-1440 or toll-free outside New York State (800) 462-8687 0A1234

Dead or


Christianity and

Harvard Essay on the Christian Faith b> Harvard Faculty, A l u m n i , and Lectures preface by Cardinal Law Dr. Robcrl Coles*Prof. Owen Gingerich Mother Teresa*Prof. Charles Malik Sen. Mark Hatfield * D r Armand Nicholi Prof.Harold Benrtan*Dr.Charles Thaxton Rev. Peter Gomcs.and 15 others — In Celebration of Harvard's 350th Anniversary — To Order: Send SI0 to Memorial Church. Harvard liniv.. Cambridge.MA 02138


I l.\uv\ui> M A G A Z I N E

Money Matters while passing on the asset to the next generation with m i n i m u m tax. Since the internationalization o f the world currency markets means that interest rates in almost every country- are subject to outside influences, our rates may continue to fluctuate between much wider bands than heretofore, based on supply-demand factors and investors' perception of the outlook for particular currencies. So the IRS tables will often be nut of date, and one will continue to be able to play variations of this game. However, the IRS is well aware o f this anomaly and can be counted on to introduce legislation seeking to take away the opportunity' it creates. So if it suits, the time to call your lawyer and set something up is right

ROUND-TRIP WORDS Encouraged by readers' interest in " a n tilogies," I am emboldened to offer another category' of word that I collect. I call them round-trip words. As an example, take tin grog, which you can get in any French cafe or bar. This comes, of course, from the Royal Navy's tot of rum. 'That drink, in t u r n , took its name from Admiral Edward Vernon, who fought in the War o f Jenkins' Ear. H e wore a grogram {rough serge) cloak and was called " O l d G r o g " ; in 1740 the admiral decreed that water be added to the rum to make it harder for the sailors to get drunk, so the watered-down rum ration took his name. But "grogram," in turn, comes from French gros grain—"rough texture." So what started out as a cloth came back as a drink. Other clothes-related round-trip words are "redingote," "jeans," and " m o i r e . " A " r e d i n g o t e " in ( m o s t l y American) English is a woman's short coat derived from the French garment spelled the same way, which in turn comes from "riding coat." "Jeans," a term well known in Genoa—as elsewhere—comes from the English pron u n c i a t i o n o f the French s p e l l i n g (Genes) o( the Italian city. " M o i r e , " a watered silk, comes from French moire, which comes from English "mohair," goat's hair cloth . . . a rather different matter. When a Frenchman talks about mariache music, he is unknowingly referring

to the music played at Its manages when the French yvere the rulers o f Mexico. Le caddie who accompanies a French golfer comes from Scottish "caddie," from French cadet, " y o u t h . " Another such term, biflek, recently admitted by the French Academy to its famous dictionary, comes, of course, from "beefsteak," from French boeuf, "beef." There's much debate over "cocktail," but it's probably a France-AmericaFrance round-trip word. Un cocktail, which is acceptable French today, came from America, perhaps from Creole "cocktay," for coquetier, "egg c u p , " in which drinks yvere sometimes served. Still in the food and drink area, the Japanese servants of the early Portuguese missionaries in Japan noticed that their employers switched from meat to fish at various times (in Portuguese, temporal o f the year, e.g.. L e n t . T h e y concluded that this yvord referred not to the season but to the dish, whence tewpura—now available in Portugal. Out "filibuster," an endless speech, comes from Central American Ji/ibustero, from English "freebooter," a land pirate. Lots of Anglo-Indian and PortugueseIndian words have made the round trip. A Bengali ("Bangala") cottage came to England as "bungalow" and has long

"Grog," "jeans," "cobra," "cocktail," "filibuster," and "bungalow" have all made the round trip.

since made its way back to Bengal. "(Jobra" started out as the Portuguese word for snake in general (from L a t i n , co/ubrr. meaning "adder"); it was applied to a particular one in India (presumably because the natives were afraid to pronounce its real name), and in that sense came back to Portugal. Sanskrit dyans, " d a y " or "heaven," became Zeus, dens, theos, and so forth (including "Tuesday"), and via Portuguese deos, "god," returned as "joss" (stick), an idol.

Do readers have other round-trip words to suggest? Q John Train, a member of the Harvard Class of 1950, is president of Train, Smith Investment Counsel, New York City.

We dug up a lost civilization from outer space. Imagine a rich culture buried for centuries in the Yucatan jungles of Mexico. And uncovered only by a NASA satellite equipped with a high-powered detector. This instrument, developed by Hughes Aircraft Company, reads wavelengths of light emitted from objects on the earths surface. Usually it monitors crop production and searches for oil and mineral deposits. But in 1983, it helped us strike pay dirt. It revealed an ancient landmark near the village of Conhuas, and architectural wonders thought to be the lost city of Š1986 Hughes Aircraft Company

[â&#x20AC;˘iVrViWl'-Wil.! Mayan sites discovered with the aid of Hughes technology shouldyield architectural wonders such as this one.

Oxpemul. Scarce Mayan ruins had been found. Now scientists can continue to reconstruct this fallen empire. And they can better understand these enlightened people, who

had built a thriving culture, only to vanish and leave a blur on the pages of history. We at Hughes are grasping the possibilities of today's technology, whether it's to uncover yesterday's treasures or preserve tomorrow's. Because having the vision to see things in new ways can not only help us find an ancient ruin. It could help keep our civilization from becoming one.


Subsidiary of GM Hughes Electronics

A Harvard Chrestomathy What generations of alumni (and others) have said and written about the place.

breathe the spirit of liberty . . . they have sometimes been wrought up to such a pitch of enthusiasm, that it has been difficult for their tutors to keep within due bounds."—Tin-; REVEREND

RazeK! RazeH!


"I hope that the European churches of the faithful will cast an eye of some respect upon a little university in America, recommended by the character that has thus been given of it. Certainty they must be none but enemies to the Reformation, the sons of Edom (which the Jewish rabbins very truly tell us is the name of Rome in the Sacred Oracles) that shall say of such an university, Raze it! Raze i t ! " — C O T T O N M A T H E R , A.B.

1678, Magialiu Ctiristi Americana (1702).


"It seems to me that the institution Harvard is more designed to turn out clergymen than able and informed citizens. . . . T h e manner of dress and the manner of conducting oneself and of being polite in society, etc., are sciences to which not the least attention is paid; and the outward appearance of the students is the most slovenly that has ever been seen in students of this kind. T h e President [Joseph YY'illard] is lean, austere, and of an insufferable circumspect i o n . " — Diary of F R A N C I S C O D E MIRANDA (1784).

"Hatvard was founded by dissenters. Before two generations had passed there was a general dissent from the first dissent. Heresy has long been in the air. We are proud of the freedom which has made this possible even when we most dislike some particular form of heresy we may encounter."— JAMES BRYANT C O N A N T , A.B.


['resident, 1933-53. " . . . the young gentlemen are alreadytaken up with politics. They have caught the spirit of the times. 'Their declamations and forensic disputes

"Mr. Wiilard . . . unites to great understanding and literary merit, a knowle d g e of t h e e x a c t s c i e n c e s , a n d particularly astronomy. I must here repeat, what I have observed elsewhere, that in comparing our universities and our studies in general, with those of the Americans, it would not be in our interest to call for a decision of the questions, which of the two nations should be considered as an infant people."— T u t : MARQUIS DE CIIVSTKI.I.I N in Ktjr-

c/ges . . . dans CAmerique septentrionale . . . 1780, 1781, & 178J.

"I reflected in my Mind on the extream Folly of those Parents, who, blind to their Childrcns Dulness, and insensible of the Solidity of their Skulls, because they think their Purses can afford it, will needs send them to the Temple of Learning, where, for want of a suitable Genius, they learn little more than how to carry themselves handsomely, and enter a Room gentecly, (which might as well be acquir'd at a Dancing-School,) and from whence they return, after Abundance of Trouble and Charge, as great Blockheads as ever, only more proud and self-conceited."—BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, A.M. (hon.) 1753, in "The

Letters of Silence Dogood" (1722). T h e Passage was kept by two sturdy Porters named Riches and Poverty, and the latter obstinately refused to give Entrance to any who had not first gain'd the Favour of the former; so that I observed, many who came even to the very Gate, were obliged to travel back again as ignorant as they came, for want of this necessary Qualification."—[BID. "What giants has Harvard produced? A Franklin? A Rittenbouse? No; our n o r t h e r n d i s c i p l i n e w o u l d have cramped their powers. Our university is the deathbed of genius. We appeal to the Catalogue: a living monument to Harvard'sflW/»«r."—WILLIAM At BTIN,

A.B. 1798. "Question: 'What is probably the most remarkable literary phenomenon that has ever appeared?' Answer: 'Harvard College.' Question: 'Who are under special obligations to the early benefactors of this institution?' Answer: 'All our citizens and every person in the world who enjoys any considerable degree of civil or religious liberty.' "—From Questions and Supplement to Goodrich's History of the United States (1835), by JOSEPH E M E R S O N , principal

of the Wethersfield (Conn.) Female Seminary.

"f)h! What a disgracefulpositionfora Harvard man to In- in!" 22


"1 went to the College Jubilee on the 8th instant. A noble and well-thought-of anniversary. . . . Cambridge at any timeis full of ghosts; but on chat day the anointed eye saw the crowd of spirits

For 350 years, you have given the world muchfoodforthought.

Chrestomathy Raymond & Whitcomb's salute to Harvard!

that mingled with the procession in the vacant spaces, year by year, as the classes proceeded; and then the far longer train of ghosts that followed the company, of the men that wore before us the college honors and the laurels of the state—the long, winding train reaching back into eternity."—From the Journals of RALPH W A L D O EMEK-

SON, A.B. 1821 (September 1836). "The resident professors at that university arc gentlemen of learning and varied attainments; and arc, without one exception that I can call to mind, men who would shed a grace upon, and do honor to, any society in the civilised w o r l d . " — C H A R L E S D I C K E N S , American

Notes (\M2).

Standing Stones of Callanish, Outer Hebrides

The commemorative exploration by sea in

The Island World of Britain aboard the yacht Argonaut.

June 12 to 29,1987

Embark after Commencement, 1987, on a journey celebrating our cultural heritage on 10 islands and mainlands of England, Wales and Scotland. Remote places of extraordinary beauty, havens for attractive traditions that have disappeared elsewhere, will be enjoyed during the longest, brightest days of the year Special access and private hospitality have been arranged on Guernsey, Sark, the islands of Scilly, Anglesey, the Inner and Outer Hebrides, Orkney and Shetland, in Sussex and Kent, the Highlands, Northumbria and East Anglia. You will travel in the Raymond & Whitcomb manner relied upon by generations of Harvard families since its founding by Walter A. Raymond, Class of 1873.

R» W Raymond & Whitcomb Co.



"When I was asked to come to this university, I supposed I was to be at the head of the largest and most famous institution of learning in America. I have been disappointed. I find myself the s u b - m a s t e r of an i l l - d i s c i p l i n e d school."—EDWARD



1811, President, 1846-49.

the c i t y . " — T H O M A S H I L L , A.B. The Argonaut is registered in Greece

4 0 0 M a d i s o n A v e n u e , N e w York, N . Y 10017 • (212) 759-3960


DAVID T H O R E A U , A.B. 1837, to RALPH W A L D O E M E R S O N , A.B.

"The passage of horse-cars to and from Boston, nearly, if not quite, a hundred times a day, has rendered it practically impossible for the Government of the College to prevent our young men from being exposed to all the temptations of

For additional information and reservations, call, visit or write:

"First in Travel

"It is true enough, Cambridge college is really beginning to wake up and redeem its character and overtake the age. I sec by the catalogue that they are about establishing a scientific school. . . . Agassiz will ere long commence his lectures in the zoological department. A chemistry class has already beet) formed under the direction of Professor Horsford. A new and adequate building for the purpose is already being erected. They have been foolish enough to put at the earnest the old joke of a diploma. Let every sheep keep but his own skin, I say."—HENRY




President, 1862-68. '"Is it possible?' cried Mr. George, in a tone of great astonishment. 'What?' asked Rollo. 'Why, to find that the inscription which was wickedly placed upon University Hall is not effaced, though years have e l a p s e d . ' Rollo looked and saw in faint black capitals

the following inscription: ''Flic University is going to Hell!"*—JOHN T.





ERICKJ. STIMSON, A.B. 1876, in Rof/o's

Jour/iiy to Cum bridge (1880). "It must be remembered that the Harvard student and the rest of mankind sprang from the same stalk; that the separation did not take place until about the year 1636, when our branch of the family rose into ethereal heights in the vain hope that sometime it might be able to commune with the gods of high Olympus in their own t o n g u e . " — E D GAR JCUSON R I C H , A.B.


230th anniversary of the founding.

at the


"It is very pleasant to do you a kindness, and every one is glad of a chance to serve the dear old College. She needs help, and thought, and devotion, and gratitude from us all, for she has given us and our land more than any one of us will give back. She will keep on givi n g . " — H E N R Y L E E HIGGINSON,


1855, L L . D . 1882.

Celebrate the Crimson For the 350th, Shreve presents. Luggage tag, gold-plated with color etching of Harvard $15. Card case to match, solid brass $25. Belt buckle in sterling $65, antiqued bronze $25. Paperweight, bronze on marble with plate for engraving $32. Mass. tax 5%, shipping $3.50. Engraving additional.


"I was talking with Schuman the other day concerning Harvard when he made the remark that the whole damned institution ought to be wiped out. 1 can hardly agree with him. though I think myself that it is the root of a world of unlicensed deviltry; but for that matter, who can name a place of any considerable size that is not? T h e matter seems to me something like this: the college is there with its corps of instructors, and the student has his choice as to improving the opportunities placed before him or not. If a fellow goes there and spends all his time raising the devil, it docs not seem exactly a fair thing to lay the whole burden of blame upon the col-

. . . . 350™ CAPS



Mark selections below: COTTON LJ crimson LJ white LJ grey . CORDUROY LJ crimson LJ bone LJ grey GATSBY COTTON LJ crimson GATSBY CORDUROY . . . U crimson COTTON VISOR LJ white TERRY VISOR

l e g e . " — E D W I N A R L I N G T O N ROBINSON




1886. Ph.D. 1889. "An Oxford man lets the world know that he is an Oxford man. His self-satisfaction gives an assurance, sometimes even a kind of swagger, to his whole


Quality embroidered caps & visors.

(1891). "Harvard has freedom, both from external trammels, and from the pleasant torpor of too fixed a tradition. She has freedom and a single eye for the truth, and these arc enough to secure for her, if the wotld goes well, an incomparable

— n4.95ea. M6.95 ea. n6.95 ea. H6.95 ea. s

9.00 ea.


9.00 ea.

LJ white

ORDER TODAY! Name Street City, State, Zip . D Mastercard D Visa Exp. Date.

M i l l

Prices include postage and handling. (Mass. Residents add 5% tax.) Total Quantity Total Price

ROMAN PRO 443 SUMMER STREET - BROCKTON, MA 02402 - (617) 583-5515




We're proud of our long tradition ol gracious, friendly hospitality serving our Harvard guests from throughout the land amidst the sights and sounds of our nation's birth. . . the ride of Paul Revere, valiant Minutemen at Concord Bridge, Thoreau, Emerson, Hawthorne, Walden Pond. It's all here surrounding the Inn, and only a few miles from Harvard Yard, Today, with our 60 rooms and 7 function areas, famous Merchant's Row Dining Room and Taverns, we can be very accommodating. Just minutes from Routes 128 and 495 off Rts. 2 and 2A in Concord. • Open year round • TV • Air Conditioning • Functions • Seminars • Major Credit Cards • Write for brochure

The Colonial Inn un die Given DeptHM Concord. MA 01712 (617) 369-9200 Operated by the Grimes Family

Chrestomathy behavior. . . . The Harvard undergraduate talks of himself and his comrades as boys. He has not learnt to swagger. . . . His dress, too, is much less costly and showy; for the most part it is of a dark cloth. I notice none of those waistcoats with which an Oxford man dazzles the poorer scholars of his college and startles his friends at home. T h e ordinary Harvard man might have stepped out of a city office or a Normal School for Teachers. He belongs to a poorer class. . . . [And yet] there is another fault for which Harvard men are reproached by their rivals and enemies. They are distinguished, it is said, by a certain priggishness, a certain consciousness too openly shown that they are not only the salt, but the superfine salt, of the earth. . . . They are fond of telling a story of a man who had twin sons, one of whom he sent to Harvard, and the other to Yale. Before they entered College, no one, not even their father, could tell them apart; but after graduation the difference was plain. One was a Harvard gentleman, the other a Vale rough."—GEORGE BlRKBECK H I L L , Harvard College by an Oxonian (1894).

"It is frequently and somewhat stridently objected that the club life at Harvard does not promote a spirit of democracy. Docs club life promote such a spirit anywhere? To live in a dormitory de luxe, with a ptivate bath of your own and a swimming tank in the basement, when the fellow that checks off your attendance at recitation dwells in a dim attic and bathes at the gymnasium, does not promote a spirit of democracy. At Harvard, as elsewhere in America, the rich have grown richer, and the poor arcstill the poor."—ARTHUR STANWOOD

PIER, A.B. 1895, The Story ofHarvard (191.3). "To me Harvard is the glory of New Kngland and America, yet 1 can see how a Yale man may love Ytle as I love H a r v a r d . " — Li: B A R O N


BRIGGS, A.B. 1875, Oean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, 1902-25. "A Vale man defined autobiography as 'a Harvard man t a l k i n g . ' " — M I T C H E L L DAVIS POLLANSBEE, A.B. 1892.

"There is a Harvard man on the wrong side of every question."—ABBOTT LAWRENCE L O W E L L , A.B. 1877, Presi-

"The chief wonder of education is that it docs not ruin everybody concerned in it, teachers and taught. Sometimes in after life, Adams debated whether in fact it had not ruined him and most of his companions. But disappointments apart, Harvard College was probably less hurtful than any other university then in existence."—HENRY ADAMS,

A.B. 1858, in The Education of Henn Adams (1918).

all silk burgundy Visa Mastercard Shi p| x:d anywhere in U.S. 617-547-^245

27.00 Postpaid

STONESTREET'S 1276 M;iss. Ave. Cambridge, Mass. 02 U8



"There ought at any rate to be some possible ground in reason for ones boiling over with joy that one is a son of Harvard, and was not, by some unspeakably horrible accident of birth, predestined to graduate at Yale ot Cornell. . . . As a nursery for independent and lonely thinkers I do believe Harvard is still in the van."—WILLIAM JAMES, M.D.


"The tnic Harvard is the invisible Harvard in the souls of her more truth-seeking and independent and often very solitary sons. Thoughts are the precious seeds of which our universities should be the botanical gardens."—[BID., from an address at the 1903 Commencement dinner.

dent, 1909-33. "Universities are full of knowledge. The freshmen bring a little in, and the seniors take none away, so knowledge accumulates."—IHID. "1 perceive that I got almost nothing of intellectual value from Harvard University. It was my fault, no doubt; if I had been a real student, I should have found genuine instruction. But, for all my assumption of superiority, the crudcness of my mind at the age of twenty wakens amazement in me."— LOGAN PEARSALL S M I T H , a student at

the College in 1884-85. "1 loved Harvard with the affection that a man has for the new country where he has found his first long-rcmembcred taste of freedom."—FRANCIS BIODLE

'09, LL.B. T l . "Now, what is the traditional spirit of Harvard University? 1 should describe it as a spirit of service—not necessarily in what we call public service, but a spirit of service in all the professions, both learned and scientific, including business: a desire, a firm purpose, to be of use to one's fellow men. And that spirit

ROBERT TALBOTT TIES and the long road to success

Since our beginning in 1950, we have held steadfastly to our original promise to create the very finest neckwear human hands can create. Now we celebrate three and a half decades of leadership in our industry. We're Talbott Ties â&#x20AC;&#x201D; thirty-five years without dropping a stitch. We're pleased with the years behind us and we look forward to those ahead. The Talbott Studio, Carmel Valley, California 93924 SEND FOR FREE COLOR BROCHURE

Chrestomathy Samuel Eliot Morison Memorial Northern Voyage of Discovery

governs in all wholesome fields of human activity."—CHARLES WILLIAM E L -

IOT, A.B. 1853, President 1869-1909. "All sorts of strange characters, of every race and mind, poets, philosophers, cranks of every twist, were in our class. T h e very hugeness of it prevented any one man from knowing more than a few of his classmates, though I managed to make the acquaintance of about five hundred of them. . . . There was talk of the world, and daring thought, and intellectual insurgency; heresy has always been a Harvard and a New England tradition."—JOHN R E E D '10.

"There are more morons to the square inch at Harvard than there are plumbers in a tenement house on a freezing day."—Crimson editorialist, 1926.

In Wake of the Vikings with the World Discoverer. July 30 to August 15,1987 Retrace early European routes of American discovery. Sail from Iceland for the Westman and Surtsey Islands, through majestic fjords between mighty mountains in Greenland, to Newfoundland, Labrador, Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia and Maine's Mount Desert Island. Debark in Boston. Cruise where others dare not go, in the ice-certified World Discoverer, the most comfortable, modem and sophisticated cruising expedition vessel. This singular voyage is dedicated to Admiral Samuel Eliot Morison, Harvard's great historian, and has been inspired by his work. For additional information and reservations, call, visit or write:

"All my memories of the four years were happy ones: there was everything to remember, nothing to forget. And I think, as 1 left the Yard behind me, there were two feelings uppermost in my mind. T h e one was how humbling an experience four years at college was—to begin to have realization of the vast stores of learning and thought that had been made available to us; the wonderful minds and men at whose feet, so to speak, we had sat. . . . T h e second emotion that kept coming back to me was the sense of freedom that the atmosphere of Harvard and the years we had spent in it had brought home to u s . " — T H O M A S W. L A M O N T '21.

"We receive two educations: the one that is given us, and the one that we give o u r s e l v e s . " — I R V I N G


A.B. 1889, Professor of French Literature, 1912-33. "A Harvard wholly Irving Babbitt, with never a George Babbitt, would not be Harvard."—CRANE BRINTON '19, Pro-

fessor of History, 1946-68.

R; W

" 'Harvard indifference,' which is another way of saying Harvard latitude, is at once the envy and irritation of other institutions."—EDWARD WEEKS '22. The World Discoverer is registered in Liberia

Raymond & Whitcomb Co. 400 Madison Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10017 • (212) 759-3960 "First in Travel Since 1879"



"As I was going to Harvard Square, I met a man who didn't care. He didn't care again today. How long has Harvard been that way:" —ANON.

"Indifference was surely not a characteristic of the alumni. If thev disliked

some fact or tendency pertaining to Harvard, they never hesitated in public or private to express their views. Astonished as I was at first by this broad latitude of criticism, 1 came gradually to sec that it was one of the priceless traditions of a Freedom-loving university."— Ait -mi u BLISS PKRRV, L i t t . D . '25,


And Gladly Teak (1935). "Most of the people, when I was an undergraduate, who claimed to be scholars were cither ham actors or pedants or both."—DAVID RiESMAN '31, LL.B. '34, Ford Professor of Social Sciences. "Speaking of education . . . I will venture to cell you what Gertrude Stein |A.B. Radclirte 1898] said when she recently revisited . . . N e w England: 'Education,' she said, 'is thought about and as it is thought about it is being done it is being done in the way it is thought about, which is not true of almost anything. Almost anything is not done in the way it is thought about but education is it is done in the way it is thought about and that is the reason so much of it is done in New England and

Switzerland. There is an extraordinary amount of it done in New England and in Switzerland. In New England they have done it they do it they will do it and they do it in every way in which education can be thought about. I find education everywhere and in New England it is everywhere, it is thought about everywhere in America everywhere but only in New England is it done as much as it is thought about. And that is saying a very great deal. They do it so much in New England that they even do it more than it is thought about.' Miss Stein wisely refrained from listing the universities and colleges of New England according to theit r a n k . " — C H A R L E S C. B U R UNGHAM, A.B. 1879, addressing the 1935 meeting of the Harvard Alumni Association. "Harvard has been singularly happy in having been permitted, even encouraged, to function in an atmosphere of freedom; to decide for herself what she shall contribute to learning; and how. She has never abused that freedom to her own advantage, or the community's

prejudice. On the contrary, she has used the corporate autonomy with which the Commonwealth endowed her in 1650, and the wealth poured into her treasury, to pour forth ever greater services, on a constantly widening waters h e d . " — S A M U E L E L I O T M O R I S O N '08,

Professor of History, addressing a 1935 meeting celebrating the opening of the Tercentenary Year. "'Is that you, John Harvard?' I said to his statue. 'Aye—that's me,' said John, 'And after you're gone.'" - D A V I D T . W . M C C O R D '21, in

the Harvard Alumni Bulletin (1940). "1 am proud of the Harvard manner, for coming from the city or the country, from every walk of life, our freshman finds himself in the neighborhood of Boston where there is a precision of speech and pronunciation lacking in the slouchiness of New York's East Side, lacking the nasal twang of Down East, and without the Southern drawl, the Philadelphia twist, or the Western roll. There is a Harvard manner, just as the

We couldn't have done it without you. Great traditions have a way of interlocking. Harvard has been teaching American leaders for 350 years. PPG has been a vital force in industry for over 100. It's not surprising that over 40 current PPG managers attended Harvard. After all, quality education is the first step in the success of quality managers. Thanks, Harvard.



H A R V A R D 3 5 0 t h POSTER

Chrestomathy Princeton man has a Princeton mannet, God help him, and the Yale man has to sit on a fence and be a Yale man whom no one can

help." — WILLIAM


MORSE, A.B. 1899, in Pardon My Harvard hecent (1941). "Purdue gives you everything that Harvard does, except the pronunciation of* as \n father."—GEORGE A D E , A.B. Purdue 1887.




"When Hitler first heard me play the piano . . . he didn't perk up until I began a medley of Harvard football songs. Suddenly he leaped from his sofa. 'Hanfstacngl,' he said, 'that's just what we need for the Party!' " — E R N K T FRANZ SEDGWICK H A N F S T A E N G L

"Cambridge Alternoon," an original 16 color silkscreen poster by noted Boston artist Martha Jane Bradford, whose work is represented in many major collections including the Fogg Art Museum ol Harvard University, 2 3 " x 3 5 " $40 unframed + $4 Postage and handling: Massachusetts residents add 5% lax Name


Street City.



Telephone: Please send check or money order to: Boston Museum Editions. 175 Woodward Street. Newton, M A 02161


Boston Museum Editions is an official licensee of Harvard University.



Insulated zip-top nylon shoulder packHarvard seal. Reusable freezer unit included Keeps food and spirits chilled. 11x8x3 SI2.95

Waterproof crimson nylon emblazoned w i t h Harvard crest RemovaDle insert. Zipper closure. 14x14x2 SI 2.95

KEY FOB FREEI with purchase of any other 3 items HARVARD C O M MEMORATIVE CARRY-ALL

D. 3 5 0 " KEY FOB Harvard 3 5 0 " ribbon o n black cotton w e b . Brass trimmed SS 95

Collector's Item! Handsome 14oz. Natural canvas accented in crimson w i t h Harvard 3 5 0 " ribbon. 19x11x5 SI6.95

E. 350" CLUB BELT Harvard 3 5 0 " ribbon carefully sewn o n black cotton w e b . Leather trimmed. Solid brass buckle. Even waist sizes 26-46 SI 5.95

Olfiaal Licensee Harvard 350'" Name Street City, State, Zip? DMastercard








Prices Include Postage & Handling (Mass Residents A d d 5% Tax) ITEMS A D B D C D SELECTED D D E D measure belt size Total Price.

erstwhile Hitler.





to Adolf

"What is the influence of Harvard to mean in the immediate future, originating thought and feeling during the next fifty years, or during the next one hundred and fifty years? Harvard is one of the outstanding universities in the very centre of human activity, At the present moment it is magnificently equipped. It has enjoyed nigh seventy years of splendid management. A new epoch is opening in the world. There are new potentialities, new hopes, new fears. T h e old scales of relative quantitative importance have been inverted. New qualitative experiences arc developing. And yet, beneath all the excitement of novelty, with its discard and rejection, the basic motives for human action remain, the old facts of human nature clothed in a novelty of detail. What is the task before Harvard?"—ALFRED N O R T I i Wi ITTEHEAD, from Essays in Sa-

ence and Philosophy (1948). "Harvard's crimson banner is a red flag to everyone else, for no one likes to concede superioritv."—THOMAS G R I F F I T H , Nf '42-'43.

"We have no equivalent in Britain to the Harvard man. He is part of the American mystique. He keeps cropping up in novels and plays. When you say of someone, 'He's a Harvard man,' the expression is full of status undertones. To be a Harvard man is something much more significant than to be a Yale or Princeton man, or even an Oxford man or a Cambridge man or a Neanderthal man. Exposure to life at Harvard appar-


The Brunswick Leadership Series.

Bk ^

"A 141 YEAR COMMITMENT TO GIVING CUSTOMERS THE VERY BEST OF THE VERY BEST KEEPS BRUNSWICK A WORLD LEADER IN LEISURE, DEFENSE AND AEROSPACE." Jack Reichert Chairman, Brunswick Corporation Brunswick is the undisputed leader in every In Defense and Aerospace, Brunswick is also a leader. segment of the leisure market it serves.



Mercury and Mariner outboard motors and Mercruiser stern drive engines are the world's standards of performance, winning such races as The World Offshore Championship and the APBA High Point "In 1845 when Championship. But winning races does more than esBrunswick went into business it was with a commitment to quality that is tablish new speed records. In fact, it has led to the development of well over 100 still with us today. industry "firsts" that helped strengthen "This commitment springs from Mercury's leadership posil ion even further. three basic values that have been critical to us in becoming the leader America's largest selling brand of fishin virtually every market we serve. ing reels is Zebco. And once again Zebco demonstrated its leadership role in the "Simply stated these values are: BA.S.S. Georgia Invitational, when Gary "Quality: We will be the highest Klein bagged a 23 lb., 13 oz. bass, using a quality producer in every market Quantum QMD 10 spinning reel. we serve, or we won't be in that business. Zebco expanded upon its leadership role with the successful introduction of the " C u s t o m e r s : We are in the busiQuantum brand of upscale feature-intenness to serve our customers at a profit. Customer satisfaction is the sive baitcast, spinning and spincast reels. The number one name in bowling single most important responsibility still Brunswick. And it has every intention we have to assure our long term of staying number one in the years success. ahead,with such innovative products as "People: Of paramount imporColorvision-Plus'" Automatic Score tance is our people, their personal Synthetic Lanes, The Source hi-tech dignity, their pride in what, they do, computerized management control sysand the trust they have in their l cm. and a host of other quality products management. for bowling centers throughout the world. "These three beliefs drive every Brunswick is also leading the way Brunswick Division, and are the reasons why our customers will always to help bowling take its rightful place receive the very best of the very best." in t he Olympics.


As the leader in Radome technology for military aircraft, the Brunswick Defense Division is helping to keep America strong. Along with camouflage and portable shelters, air launched remote-piloted decoy vehicles that emulate strike aircraft and other critical defense applications. Brunswick is also a leading producer of components for a wide range of military and commercial aircraft. For example: the engines in the highly acclaimed new Boeing 757 are built with abradable seals and acoustical dampeners produced by Brunswick's Technetics Division. And its hydraulic systems utilize valves from the Brunswick Valve and Control Division. Brunswick leads the way in leisure, defense and aerospace by honoring its commitment to provide its customers with the very best of the very best. For a copy of the 1985 Brunswick Annual Report, plus a handsomelybound copy of Brunswick: The Story qfanArm tympany, a chronicle of Brunswick's 140 year history, or for more information about Brunswick and impanies, call the Office of the Chairman, 800-621-6413 (Illinois resi. lents, 312-262-7783). Or write: Office of the Chairman, Brunswick Corporation, I Irunswick Plaza. Skokie, IL 60077.

ANNIVERSARY BLANKET Plush blanket with official anniversary seal and 350-dot matrix design. Made of soft, thick acrylic velour to keep you warm indoors, outdoors and at Harvard games. Also makes great hed-spread or wall hanging. 55"x80". Machine washable. $45. Design by Toshihiro Katayama, Harvard Senior Lecturer, and David Aronson, Harvard '79.

350th A N N I V E R S A R Y

HARVARD COMMEMORATIVES Cherish these specially-designed collector's items as valued symbols of Harvard's great tradition. FRAMED FULL-COLOR TAPESTRIES Two jacquardwoven tapestries portraying Memorial Church and Lowell House. Made of cotton fibers, exquisite tapestries are reminiscent of classic art. $80ea. I8"x 22" framed.

ently has a mysterious influence on your metabolism and social prestige."— From the Scotsman, quoted in You Can Always Tell a Harvard Man, by Richard Bissell '36. "If you have ever been to Harvard, you will never be allowed to forget it. . . . Actually I have found that I can get on very well with most people until they discover this error in my past. Then there is a slight pause in the conversation, a lifting of the eyebrows, an exchange of meaningful glances, and someone always says, 'You never told us you were a Harvard man . . . ' A mental picture has arisen and an iron curtain has



MARQI AND ' 15 in "The Social Future of the Harvard Man" (Harvard Alumni Bulletin, 1948).

Lowell House

Memorial Church

Available at leading Boston/Cambridge stores, alumni clubs and via mail order. Contact: P.O. Box 186, Glenville Station, Greenwich, CT. 06830. 203-531-6779.


ACMI® nternationd

Uarimring Things l*u*otQm»ut

Official Licensee

"You really wouldn't be a son of a bitch at all if you weren't a Harvard man."— A World War I Marine captain to J.R MARQUAND, as quoted in Marquand's article (v.s.). "Yes, I admit my son did go to Harvard and my daughter to Radcliffe. But am 1 responsible for every single thing my children d o ? " — O R V I I . L K


A.B. Williams '30. "It is high time that we had real and positive policy in the world that we understand. We arc tired of alibis. We are tired of aristocratic explanations in Harvard words."—Presidential candidate DWICJIIT D. E I S E N H O W E R , L L . D . '45


•your logo, embroidered here! Better than Lacoste or Ralph Lauren, a 100% cotton Queensboro Shirt, custom embroidered with your logo or design is perfect for corporate conferences and promotional programs, athletic events and family functions. A great way to boost morale in any company, club or organization. And because of its superior quality, a Queensboro Shirt is guaranteed unconditionally for at least an entire year! Minimum order just six shirts, 100 shirts cost only $16.00 each. For a brochure, price list, and free cloth samples write or call toll free 1-800-84-SHIRT (in NY 718-782-0200). The Queensboro Shirt Company Dept. H-3, i io N.I ith St., Greenpoint, NY 11211 32


"It is really the undergraduate who makes a university, gives it its lasting character, smell, feel, quality, tradition. You can never know a university, or ever belong to it, by entering it as a graduate student; it may even be that no professor coming to it late from another university will ever know it as well as his newcome sophomores, juniors, and seniors. It is these whose presence creates it and whose memories preserve it—its rakes, rapscallions and idlers, its rebels and aberrants, no less than its scholars, sloggers and bright stars. It is to these that the first toast should be drunk at every university- dinner: To every shade who here once was happy, because hewas young. I think that it is in recognition of this truth and not from snobbery that your true Harvardian says, with (continued on page 33)

BAHAMA Dr.iivirmlA RererAmo: C IW. 1975The New M.rktr Mafaunc, IIK-.'

should be done about his son, who had failed of admission to Harvard in spite of the fact that generations of his ancestors had been attending the College since the days of the

Mayflower. " . . . the real meaning of I larvard is not in the buildings or the Library, however important their supporting functions may be; it is in the teachers and the students and the interrelationship between them." — J O H N F. KENNEDY"40, from

College in a Yard (1957). "This is a warm and happy place when you know it is your last year and you know what you want."—KAKIM At;A KI IAN IV '58. "The only safe test, the acid test of a book's greatness, is its inclusion, a century after publication, in a Harvard course on great novels. Let us be pa"Which ont? Great heavens, are wu mad.'' tient therefore."—Ai. I:\ANI >ER GERSCHENKRON, Barker Professor of Economics, in Notes on Dr. (continued from page 32) VJitvago (1958). just the faintest emphasis, that lie went to I larvard College."—S£AN O T A O I . A I N ,

"Harvard is like Europe. You've either been there or you haven't."—Amherst friend of Professor William Alfred, Ph.D. '54. "Harvard is like the Vatican:; it measures time in deeades, not years."—JUAN MAKICIIAI., Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures. "Harvard is a windy Unitarian ham."— JOHN H. IMNLEY '25, P h . D . *33, Eliot

Professor of Greek L a n g u a g e and Literature.

"Harvard has often been wrong and, still more often, haughty. . . . It has rarely been self-satisfied."—Special Committee on College Admission Policy (I960). "After the gigantic state universities, after the demureness of the small New England colleges, I larvard's snobberies seem to me harmless and even essential, its weaknesses minor, its virtues firm and u n d e n i a b l e . " — M A R C U S C I Ni.iiTK, British historian. "Be more Irish than Harvard."—Advice from R O B E R T F R O S T '01 to J O H N F.

"Harvard admires lonely thinkers who have a public conscience."—NATHAN M. PUSEY '28, President, 1953-71. "Well, we can't send him back . . . the Mayflower doesn't run anymore."— PRESIDENT PUSEY, answering a tipsy

alumnus who had risen during an afterdinner question period to ask what "Harvard and Western Maryland competed in football onlv once (1lM7). Harvard prevailed. 52-0.

K[£NNHOY '40 at the presidential inauguration of 1961. "Thoreau and Kennedy are just two of t h e u n c o u n t e d alumni n u m b e r e d among the great. But the great majority of us are, to speak plainly, mere worms hiding under the societal equivalent of Hat stones on a barren hillside. Our conscious minds know that we are worms. But our subconscious minds, irradiated by glory, refuse to believe. It shows through, and that's why you can always

OUT-ISLANDS * On a small, tranquil, Bahamian island, • nestled among the coconut palms, along a * P ridge of sand dunes, is the ABACO INN, Our ten very private cottage rooms overlook the Atlantic Ocean to the cast and the Sea of Abaco to the west. From our informal clubA house-lounge, where we serve elegant five| j ) t course dinners and a tropical buffet lunch, we have a beautiful view of pink sandy beaches and the breaking surf. The ABACO INN is a ^ lifestyle — it's our home and we think it's A very special. We offer a warm, leisurely, ff "away-from-it-all" atmosphere, as well as snorkeling; scuba diving (we're both divers); deep-sea reef and bonefishing; sailing; boating; windsurfing and trips to fishing and A boatbuilding settlements on nearby islands. A The Inn is just a pleasant walk from the ^fc picturesque 18th-century fishing settlement of Hope Town and the historic Elbow Cay Lighthouse. If you're searching for a unique ^ K personal experience; if you're in touch with ' | nature and if you wish to escape the rigors of 20th-century urban life and yet retain the comforts, then we would like you to be our guests. Please write, via airmail, for our brochure, or telephone us for reservations and (.information.


Ruth Maury— ^ Jerry Whitelealher


BOX R10, Hope Town, Elbow Cay, Abaco, Bahamas

Tel. 1-809-367-2666



From a sumptuous, bejeweled singing cup to the highly stylized work of architect H.H. Richardson, this richly illustrated book presents some of the most beautiful and important ornament at Harvard and Radcliffe, along with descriptions written by the faculty, historians and alumnae/i. Order your limited edition copy today. Send check or money order for S12 to: Next P u b l i c a t i o n s 7-A Scott Street C a m b r i d g e , M A 02138 NAME ADIiRESS






Chrestomothy tell a Harvard m a n . " — K A R L


"You can tell a Harvard man almost anything you want to, but you can't get him to believe it just because you say it."— H O W A R D M L ' M F O R D J O N E S , L i t t . D . '36,

Lowell Professor of the Humanities.

We Started with the Stars... W e printed them on an 8-inch pliable globe, gently pushed one half inside the other, and now we've got the world's best star-finding tool


Adjusts at a roll of your fingertips for any time and location on Earth! Many sky-maps in one. Durable. Lightweight. Printed in color. Displays all 88 constellations. The astronomy gift. 10 year old to Ph.DI "A delight to both mind and eye... elegant, instructive and lunl" - D. McCarty, college planetarium drector. Beautifully packaged • NightStar comes with "Star Traveler's Guide" (with notes tor the younger stargazer) plus accessories and a 1 year warranty. VISA or MASTERCARD - CALL (408) 462-1049 or SEND S44 plus UPS/Handling: U.S/Canada $3.50; foreign $7 (S14 air). Calif, add $2.85 state tax SPECIAL! 2 OR MORE: Freight Free in U.S. THE NIGHTSTAR COMPANY. Dept. H 1334 Brommer St., Santa Cruz, CA 95062

"At Harvard they humanize scientists; a t M . I . T . theySimonize humanists."— ADLAI E. S T E V E N S O N , L L . D . ' 6 5 .

"Harvard gave me diet cola and four cookies and a better future."—STEPHEN


didn't go to Harvard."—President L Y N D O N B. JOHNSON, quoted in Life

E L I S H '17.

D I A M O N D '67, a high-school

All-American from Miami, commenting on an Associated Press story about Ivy League football recruiting. "No one welcomes you back at Harvard, because everyone is just coming back from somewhere."—JOHN K E N N E T H GALBRAITH, Warburg Professor of Economics Emeritus. "Admission to Harvard is tantamount to receiving the keys to the American kingdom and living ever after in the big Playboy Club in the s k y . " — R U S S E L L BAKER in the New York Times. "I don't believe that I'll ever get credit for anything 1 do in foreign affairs, no matter how successful it is, because I

(1968). "At present I am in Kaiser Hospital, San Francisco, recovering from a motorcycle accident on the Golden Gate Bridge that very nearly took my life. As it is. I only lost my spleen and a great deal of blood. This is my second such accident in five weeks. After the first one . . . 1 went in debt to the tune of $500 to have my bike repaired. T h e bike is now destroyed. I am employed as a teacher's aid in San Rafael, a suburb of San Francisco, and I bring home the princely sum of $175 a month. My indebtedness from my first accident now cuts this in half. A few weeks ago the woman I have loved for over a year left me for another man. Trite as it sounds, that's what happened. Last summer my most prized possession, my hi-fi system, was stolen. On the other hand, people are still impressed when I tell them I went to H a r v a r d . " — L A V C H R I S T O P H E R F O X

'71 (class note in the Harvard Bulletin). "Just as our filial piety toward father and mother is based not on any claim that they are better than other people but on the fact that we have come from them biologically, so our filial piety toward our Alma Mater is based not on any Drawing by Alan D u n n : © 1963 T h e N e w Worker Magazine. Inc.








Wm*%fcb~ "All I'm saying is [liar to blame everything on Harvard men is an oversimplification."

You don'thave to be a financial genius to diversify your investments. types of growth funds; tax-free bonds; high-yield corporate bonds; government securities; convertible securities; and a money market fund. Your NyuFE Securities Registered Representative can tell you about the fund or combination of funds that will best suit your investment goals. Minimum investments are as low as Growth. Income. Stability. $500. There's no up-front MacKay-Shields MainStay Mutual Funds sales charge. And you can are designed to provide all three. switch between funds without charge up to five currently managing retireHere's an opportunity ment funds and investment times a year. to have full-time financial For more complete portfolios for major corpoprofessionals managing rate and institutional clients. information about the your investments for you. Now you can benefit from MacKay-Shields Family of m/LiFE Securities1â&#x20AC;&#x201D;the Funds, including charges that same management exfinancial products and and expenses, call NyiiFE perience with the MainStay services organization of New York Lifeâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;is proud to Family of Funds. Vbu have a Securities toll-free. Dial 1-800-522-4202 choice of seven differoffer the MacKay-Shields for a prospectus. ent funds, designed MainStay Family of Funds. 2 Read it carefully to meet a wide range MacKay-Shields is an before you invest of investment objectexperienced name in the or send money. ives. They include two investment community,

Get the most out of life. 1, NYLIFE Securities Inc. is a wholly owned indirect subsidiary ol New York Life Insurance Company. 51 Madison Ave, Mew York, N.Y. 10010. 2. MacKay-Shields I'lnancial Corporation, ihc Investment advisor to the MainSiay Mutual Funds. Is a wholly owned and independently managed subsidiary of New York Life Insurance Company.


Le Liberty Weekend

95?° At vour doorstep, the delights of Boston await von. Fanenil Hall. The Freedom Trail. The hustling waterfront. Complimentary parking* Free use of our new skylit swimming pool and health club. Sleep in luxury.

*95?° 1 Night (Single o r D o u b l e ) Ever; Fridu\.Suluid;i\. Suiulav Subject In availabiliU. Tax will l>r added.

Reservations: U.S.A. and Canada 800-543-4300 NY. Cilv: 2 1 2 2 6 5 - 4 4 9 4

Boston: 617-451-1900

HOTELMERIDIEN 250 Fmnldin Street. Kosinn Complimentary parking, After f> pm Frnlii\ until H jim Monday. (William- time in uml nut privilege*.!

claim chat she is the best university but on the fact that \vc have come from her culturally. . . . From Harvard, as from our parents, we have what we are not contingently but essentially. We could become Canadian citizens if we wanted, but could not now become Vale graduates even if we wanted. Harvard, like humanity', is of our essence."— G E O R G E BOSWORTH B I R C H '23 in his

Fiftieth Reunion Report. "My class was the first to enter a Harvard with co-residential housing and no parietals. Both students and faculty had been ignoring the rules for years anyway. . . . It is said that once, on the way to breakfast, the Master of Adams House saw a boy and a girl coming out of the boy's room and without skipping a beat said, 'Good morning, gentlemen.' At that point, I think, co-residential housing was inevitable."—ANNE FADIMAN 7 4 in Harvard Magazine. "Not until a man's own generation comes to its last few survivors, not until the generations of the dead include his own contemporaries, does he see what Harvard is and who has made it what it is—that long succession of the famous dead who bear the living on their shoulders and conceive the always-changing future."—ARCHIBALD

LL.B. '19, in



"Harvard is . . . a sort of lever which can, in time, move almost the whole American education s y s t e m . " — P A T RICK






Mens Sana in Corpore Sano D Club Membership D Personal Trainer D Spa Treatment • Health Food Cafe

"Behind the jokes . . . one can see Harvard's secret attitude toward Mile: it is the attitude of the rich kid. whose father is away on business, whose mother is busy at the club, and who is being raised by the maid, when he considers his school chum of less showy, but more attentive and loving, parents. 'Mile has a special place in Harvard's mythology,' one undergraduate assured me, 'but I don't know what it is.' After two years in Harvard's classrooms. I do: Vale is H a r v a r d ' s u n a c k n o w l e d g e d cons c i e n c e . " — G L E N N SKWERER, Vale '78.

a Harvard graduate student in 1982-83, in the Yale Alumni Magazine. HEALTH SPA, CLUB AND SALON AT THE CHARLES HOTEL Le Pli, Inc. • 5 Bennett Street • Charles Square * Cambridge, Mass. 02138 • 617-868-8087 36


"Generalizing about Harvard is a great Harvard vice . . . " — G E O R G E WELLER 7 9 , in Not to Eat, Norforl^ove (1933).

A Unit o) Allied Stores.

Events A timely guide to goings-on at Harvard.

350TH BIRTHDAY PARTY What the Nile was for Cleopatra, the Mississippi for Huck Finn, so will the Charles be for John Harvard when his facsimile barges downstream beneath an illuminated, helium-inflated rainlww. We kid you not. Come as you arc to the riverbank and join the dancers and fire-jugglers, singers, musicians, and clowns on September 3. From 6 to 10:30.

CONVOCATIONS IN THE YARD Adorned with flowers and banners. Tercentenary Theatre will welcome members of the community and some 20,000 visitors at three convocations to celebrate Harvard's 350th anniversary. Music from the last three and a half centuries will be played and sung by the Band. the Choral Society, the Glee Club, and the Collegium Musicum. New music for the occasion has been composed by Leon Kirchner. Rosen professor of music, and Daniel Pinkham '44, A.M. '44. September 4 at 10: "Foundation Day." His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales speaks on higher education throughout the world. Greetings arrive from other universities. Excerpts from past student orations lend continuity. September 5 at 10: "Harvard and the Changing World." Secretary of State George P. Shultz, Speaker of the House Thomas P. O'Neill Jr.. and Massachusetts Governor Michael S. Dukakis will speak on higher education at the international, national, and state levels. A segment called "Voices From the I larvard Past" (Churchill's, FDR's, Kennedy's) adds another dimension. September 5 at 2: Presidents Derek Bok and Matina Horner and members of the 11.A A. gather in recognition of the University's diversity and vigor. Medals go to those who've served Harvard well. Tickets are free but limited to two per request. On Thursday and Friday mornings gates open at 7, close at 9:30.

HARVARD STADIUM CELEBRATION "Let me entertain you . . ." You've heard that line. But never from Harvard until now. Doing their level best will be the Boston Pops Orchestra; the Harvard Band, Choruses, and Orchestra; very special guests; and your host and narrator, Walter Cronkitc. T h e y ' v e been primed by Tommy Walker—the man who designed the Statue of Liberty centennial celebration and the 1984 Olympic Games ceremonies—never mind five world fairs. For this occasion, he's asked Walter Gundy of Image Engineering to design the laser effects. Fred Brink created the audio-visuals; Mark Woodcock '65 the script; and Joe Raposo '58 the music. September 6 is the night; at 8:30, Soldiers Field. Tickets ($25. $12.50) at the athletic department ticket office. Harvard Hall B.

EXHIBITIONS University Art Museums. Helen Frankcnthalcr—adventurous abstract expressionist and painter of radiant canvases—did many indc-



Marc Antonio Raimom/i's engraving Adam and Eve (after Raphael), from the Cray Collection, on vies at the Fogg for the JSOth. pendent works on paper. "Paper" means shelfliner, hotel stationery, and cardboard as well artist's papers, to which she applied lipstick, nail polish, and crayon besides charcoal and paints. For "Frankcnthalcr: Works on Paper, 1949-1984" she's chosen seventy portraits, landscapes, and abstractions. They stop at the Saekler from August 30 to October 26 on a U.S.-Canadian tour. Through September 21: "Learning to Be Free," Jonathan Borofsky's mixed-media installation on the Sacklcr's ground floor. It covers the walls of an entire gallery with drawings, while "Prisoners," a videotape, gives us 58 minutes of interviews with California convicts, and a sculpture, "Chattering Man," mumbles on tape. A hundred prints from Harvard's first fine arts bequest arc mounted at the Fogg for the 350th; fine examples of Dtircr, Rembrandt, and Ticpolo, and lots of reproductive engravings. They were collected by a Harvard lawyer and cultural leader, Francis Galley Gray (17901856), who also collected shells and published scholarly pieces on economic theory and Indian burial customs. He assisted John Quincy Adams at the Imperial Russian Court, too. "Fine Arts for I larvard: The Gray Collection of Engravings" runs September 2 to November 2. A major show of "German Realist Drawings from the 1920s" continues at the Busch-Rcisingcr thtough September 28, introducing exceptional works to Americans by unfamiliar artists—Felixmiillcr, Hubbuch, Rossing, Schlichtcr, and Schrimpf, for example. Their portraiture and industrial scenes reflect the malaise and violence of postwar Germany and their obsession with conveying it truthfully, some might say harshly. School of Design. Its 50th coincides with the 350th, and a birthday exhibit brings togeth-

er the work of students past and present (September 3 to 26). Also at midcentury is the leading Cambridge firm of Stubbins Associates, founded by Hugh Stubbins, M.A.R. '35. A retrospective of drawings, models, and photographs illustrates the firm's evolution from its regional beginnings to international and corporate design (September 30 to October 17). At Gund Hall Gallery, 48 Quincy Street. Carpenter Center. Drawings, prints, paintings, and photographs by the faculty' of the visual and environmental studies department arcmounted and dubbed "Works for the 350th." They're distinct, effective, and for sale to benefit the Center. Until September 10. The photojournalism of Gillcs Pcrcss, first recipient of the Gahan Photography Fellowship, arrives September 20 for two weeks. Museum of Comparative Zoology. A gala reception at 5:30 on September 4 welcomes the appearance of "Birds in Art," the work of four gifted natural history artists. The oils belong to John James Audubon; the bronze sculpture to Beverly Benson Scamans, of Massachusetts; the wood carvings to Charles G. Chase '30, of Maine; and the watcrcolors to Julie Zickcfoosc '80, of Connecticut. Surprise: an exhibit of bird photography by an MCZ contest winner. Until September 26. Peabody Museum. For years anthropologists have used the camera as a recording, analytic, and aesthetic medium. "From Site to Sight" is a visual history7 of the field made from the Peabody's photographic archives, which has everything from daguerreotypes to satellite pictures. Opening September 5. Semitic Museum. Through the personal memories of Harvard students and faculty,

The Enchanted Horse, an illustration by John Batten, from the Semitic Museum's exhibition "Harvard's Arabian Nights."

Morgan Stanley salutes something worth standing for. As Harvard celebrates three and a half centuries as one of the world's leading universities, Morgan Stanley salutes the spirit that guides its course. Being the first of your kind is a noteworthy distinction. But showing the vision and drive to remain at the top of your field is the mark of a truly great institution. This quality of leadership, represented by Harvard University's official president's chair, fosters a tradition of excellence that stands out through time.



Eleuthera Bahamas


$sm^i The Bahamas' best year round climate. Miles of beautiful beach. Robert Trent J o n e s Championship Golf Course. Tennis courts. Resident professionals. Beach front villas. Watersportsand fishing. Dining and dancing under the stars. Breathtaking, tropical landscape. And all just minutes from Nassau. THE QUIET CACHE OF COTTON BAY"

Eleuthera, Bahamas 1 (800) THE BAYS Aihli.iii'i! w uli c'[>|iicv PI.1/.1. Boafixi and Cape Codttrr Hoirl. Falmouih MA




««* \w*7 ,tXO ••"

& ^ JW^

^ 5 * 5a*

^:>VV ***V^

v><* . „•«* „<\° ^O"




,«o" . . t o,ri" \<o*

cf * X . « * *

>« > 0 ' ^.et^Tk^.


tf-1 c"



,,„, & <lw-





through books, albums, letters, and pictures, "The Jewish Experience at Harvard and Radcliffe" shows how Jews from all economic and social strata entered the I (Diversity and eventually moved from periphery ro center. A second exhibit. "I larvard's Arabian Nights," celebrates a long tradition of scholarship on Scheherazade's 1001 Sights. Illustrations (some muralsize), books, and manuscripts conjure up visions of Aladdin, Sinbad, and Ali Baba. Both shows start September 4 at ft Divinity Avenue. Arnold Arboretum. "Bridge of Trees: Historical and Contemporary Photographs of the Plants, People, and Landscape of China and Japan" lias been created from the archival glass slides of E.H. Wilson, former director of the Arboretum, and new pictures by curators David Bouffbtd and Stephen A. Spongberg. For a week, from September 4. Houghton. Manuscripts by 54 Harvard alumni and long-term faculty make an eclectic anniversary tribute. By no means are ali these writers, philosophers, composers, and scholars household names, though some ring bells (Emerson, 1'horeau, James, Wolfe), and their combined works create a historically fascinating display. Until October 10. 1 lilies. Expanded from the centennial eight years ago, "The Radcliffe College Exhibit, 1878-198ft" chronicles the past on 35 photographic panels. 1 lere are founders, presidents, teachers, and students in a hold format clarifying RadcliffcS gift to the University community. From 8 to 10 P.M., September 4 to ft, and possibh longer. More photographic blow-ups in "Hall to Houses: The History of the Radcliffe Quadrangle" document an expanding environment: September 3 to 24. l^unont. lot the 3S0tb, the undergraduates' library tells its faintly shameful story (women couldn't enter for its first eighteen years) in two historical displays, through the fall. Additional exhibits illustrating student organizations run to September 31. Widener. The sole surviving book from John Harvard's own collection kicks off a vast exhibition, which details the library's history as it charts the evolution of American scholarship and culture. Widener is one of the world's great liook repositories and the largest that's privately supported. Through October. Agassi-/. House. The unknown and well known unite in "Women of Harvard, lft.sft198ft." For the first two hundred years, Harvard's female force consisted of a nearly invisible Supporting easr of wives, daughters, sisters, mistresses, and servants. More central to Harvard's mission were Anne Radcliffe, Elizabeth Glovet Dunsccr, and Mrs. Samuel Holden. But mainly, the exhibit shows the full range of women's employment and academic progress at the University over the last two centuries. September 3 to ft only, from 8 to 10 P.M. Under the aegis of Schlesingcr Library, a much-traveled "Women of Courage" returns (September 2 to 2ft), before heading out again to more museums and libraries around the country. It honors black women who made pioneeering contributions in every field during the middle decades of this century. Since the exhibit's official opening in 1984, Judith Sedwick's photographs have been praised almost as much as her extraordinary subjects.

THEATER AND DANCE I.oeb Drama Center. After a year and a half, another outbreak of the CIVIL u-a/S. The "American Section" this time—specifically, TJfe Knee Plays, an opera by Robert Wilson with words and music by David Byrne. These interlocking vignettes were originally conceived as entr'actes, the joints between sixteen larger scenes in Wilson's twelve-hour pageant. Bui Wilson has unified them in an independent piece with Byrne (of Talking Heads), and the music smacks of New Orleans marching bands and gospel hymns. The production's Oriental design and movements, by Jun Matsuno and Suzushi Hanayagi, somehow complement the rest. Staged by Wilson, Jit Kaee Plays rims from September 15 to October 5 (curtain times at 2. 7, 8, and 10). Tickets ($11 to $24) and other details at (ftl7) 547-8300. A three-performance revival for the 350th (September 3 to 5 at 8) of Andrei Serhan's nowfamous production of The King Stag, by Carlo Gozzi, was rapidly selling out at press time. But a few seats may still be left. More performances follow on September ft, 7. 9, 10. and II. a 8; ft and 7 at 2. Late fall will summon the I larvurd-Kadcliffc Dramatic Club to the mainstage for another season and its unanimous choice, The Still »/ Our Teeth. Thornton Wilder's testament of faith in humanity put the first nuclear family on the American stage and won the 1942 Pulitzer Prize. Wacky and impudent after 44 vcars. the play seems more fitting than ever. At 8. October 23 to November I; (ftI7) 864-2630. Agassi/. 'Theatre. Komachi, a Japanese play based on Vukio Mishima's adaptation of a Noli drama, provides director Daniel Banks '87 with an ideal vehicle for a mixed-media experiment. September 18-21, 27, 28, October 1 to 4, at 8; September 20 at 2; $4. Harvard undergraduates provide the music. Picasso the images, and John Whiteman (of the School of Design) the overall conception fur a reading and performance of works by 11. Nelson Goodman, professor of philosophy emeritus and ardent practitioner of the arrs. October 24. Forty years ago in a tiny makeshift theater on Palmer Street, a group of Harvard writers and thespians began putting on unusual plays. 'They called themselves the Poets' 'Theatre.

Ozeline Wist Standi by her fihotogra/ih itt the exhibition "Women of Courage," returning to .Srhlesintier Library, Wise was the first black woman employed in the banking department of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and n founder of the Citizens' Charitable Health Association.

The Harvard Rosette. 350years# in the making.

h.rirk Hamkins '30 as the pine tree in Kight Clear Plates. This acclaimed urrni: ait/i chorrograpliy b) Haakim and a seotr/n l./ieia Dlugpauvski, aid /f relived on September 4 and 5 at the Hasty Pudding Theatre. and in this season of retrospectives they're having [heir own. William Alfred, Lowell professor of the humanities, poet Richard Wilhur, Cij '47'50, and other old friends will participate on October 28 and 29. For more information about Agassi/ events. call (617) 495-8676. Erick Hawkins Dance Company. Some call him an iconoclast, others a major artistic voice, Erick Hawkins '30 answers to both, lie's bringing his troupe from New York for two performances that demonstrate his originality of style and [he strength of his identification with traditional and contemporary American culture. September 4 and 5 at 8. Hasty Pudding Theatre. $20. RadclirTc Dance Studio, (iyni'lransit pays homage to the art of sport and dance. Composed for her students by Claire Mallardi. coordinator of the Uadcliffe Dance Program, it's tongue-in-cheek and rightfully balletic and athletic. September5, 4, and 5 at 8 and 11: RadCllffe Dance Center: $10.

The Andover Shop is proud to offer the Official 350 Rosette, designed to commemorate this historic occasion. The lapel rosette had its beginning with the "Legion of Honour" which was instituted by Napoleon Bonaparte in 1802. It was fashioned after the gorget from which the medal was originally suspended at the throat. By 1850 or so, the rosette was miniaturized to be worn on civilian clothes. First use in this country was by the Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States in 1877. Since then rosettes have been made to represent various types of awards, both military and civilian, as well as membership in many organizations and associations. The Andover Shop, 22 Holyoke Street, Cambridge, MA 02138 Telephone Orders: (617) 8 7 6 - 4 9 0 0 .

FILMS Harvard Film Archive. Pine features (foreign and domestic) will be shown for 350th visitors on September 4 at 4, and 5 at 2 and 7. The premiere of Syncopations, a film-dance by Kathy Rose, is Thursday night's picce-dc-resistariee, at 7 ($5). Comedies (Mondays. 5 and 8) and world classics of the last 25 years (Wednesdays. 5 and 8) start reeling on September 11 ($5). For these and more throughout the fall, call Carpenter Center, (617)495-4700. John Harvard: Movie Star. Film historian Paul Killiam '37 has created an bout's retrospective of highlights and back-Yard bvplay. clipped from a century of Crimson moviemaking. Rob Humphrcville '80 plays the silcnt-cra accompanist. Scptcmbct 4 and 5 at 7:30 and 9; Science Center; $5. Pcabody Museum Series. Documentaries by and about the Soviets begin at 8. November


Please send me Official 350 Rosettes Rosettes @ S12.50 (tax and shipping charges included). Check one Visa MasterCard American Express Card # Expiration Date Name.



Street. City _


Zip Code.


The Andover Shop, 22 Holyoke Street, Cambridge, MA 02138 Telephone Orders: (617) 876-4900.


J 41


The Harvard I 'niveisity Archives, in I'ttscy library, is a repository of many treasures, including this Wcsrcriv Perspective (if Part of the Town of Cambridge, done by Samuel Griffin'ofthe Class of

1184 while an undergraduate. It supports Robert Campbells observation (page 101) that the prevailing color of Harvard is red. Griffin, a New Hampshire man, went on to study medicine, moved to

Virginia, and was reportedly murdered'by one of his wife's slaves in 1812. To mad' the 350th, the Archives will mount an exhibition celebrating Harvarefs previous celebrations.

3, in Science Center C ($3.75). .Subscriptions

HRO's season officially begins—at 8, October 31, in Sanders. It offers a similar program the next night (November I at 7:30) at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York. Subscriptions and single seats at (617) 864-0500. "Morning Pro Mtisica" Salute. From 7 A.M. D noon on WGBH-FM, between September 3 and 10, Robert J. Lurtscma's fans will hear nothing but pieces by Harvard composers or pieces played by Harvard musicians. Only one of them gets star billing, though. He's John Knowlcs Paine (1839-1906), the first professor of music at any American university Each program includes one of his works, and his Mass in D will be heard Sunday, September 7, at 10. Music for the 350th. Harvard and Radcliffc's combined choruses, joined by their alumni, sing Monteverdi, Brahms, and Polllene; works by the late Randall Thompson '20 and John Harbison '60; and college songs—on September 4. On September 5 with the HRO (this country's oldest orchestra), they offer excerpts from Trinity Mass, by HRO conductor James Vannatos. and Britten's Cantata Academica. Both at 8 in Sanders: $10. Chamber music in Paine I tall—by Arthur • Foote, A.M. 1875, and Elliott Carter '30— will be interpreted by the New World .String Quartet, September 4 at 8: $12.50. The Boston Museum Frio (violin, viola da gamba, and harpsichord) choose great Baroque works that demonstrate the progression from the European music of John Harvard's day to the mid-eighteenth century. At 7:30. September 5, Agassiz Theatre; $12.50. John Ferris. University organist since 1958, performs hour-long recitals in Memorial Church on September 4 and 5. at 5; no tickets needed. Fun in the Old Yard—with the Band, the krokodilocs, the Pitches, and the Din and Tonics—is likely; seated at a cafe table, champagne glass in hand, it's assured. Guests can drop by any time on September 4 between 7 and 10:30, or September 5 from 7 to 9. And finally, the anniversary bash. "An Evening with Tom Rush at Club 47" is a reunion of

sorts. Joan Bacz. Livingston Taylor, Bonnie Rain '67-70, and Rush '63. who started singing together at the Mount Auburn Street coffee house, meet up with David Buskin and Robin Batteau '69 in Tercentenary Theatre on September 5 at 9; $12.50. Tickets at the athletic department ticket office. Harvard Hall B.

and programs at (617) 495-2269.

CONCERTS Beaux Arts Trio. The energy and passion that an inexhaustible repertoire demands is what Messrs. Presslet. Cohen, and Greenhouse bring in Sanders each year. They start another season on October IS at 8, with trios by Mozart, Schumann, and George Rochbctg (1985). Four-concert subscriptions ($48, $44. $37) at (617) 49517(H). Pro Arte Chamber Orchestra. Subscribers may choose eight or four of their inventive programs; exchange their tickets whenever they need to; and enjoy first performances, rarely heard classics, and late-evening receptions while parked for free. Leading oft'on September 20, David Hoose conducts music by Schumann. Beethoven, and Peter Child. Pianist Frederick Mover is the soloist. At .S, in Sanders; season and single tickets at (617) 661-7067. Boston Premiere Knsemble. The Concord Chorus, the Worcester Master Singers, and four Soloists collaborate on the first Boston performance of rwo Beethoven cantatas, while Ben Saycvich tackles Sibelius's violin concerto. V. John Adams leads them. October 19 at 8, in Sanders; $15. $12. $8; (617) 437-0231. Chamber Music in Houghton Library. Harvard's resident four—The New World String Quartet—assisted by Michael Zaretsky and Bruce Koppock, begin this scries with Schubert. Schoenberg. and Beethoven, At 8. October 31. Each concert $12, subscriptions $40; (617)495-244'). Ninetieth Birthday Tribute. From the North House Music Society. Harvard's music department, and the Office for the Arts, to Virgil Thomson '22. In Agassi/. Theatre on October 5 and 6, at 8; 5 at 3. 1 iarvard-Kadclift'c Orchestra. The latest winner of the Peabody-Mason piano concerto contest takes on the Chopin E minor, flanked by Schumann's Fourth Symphony and Moussorgskv's Sight on Bald Mountain. Thus the 42


LECTURES Cameraman. Chiles Pcrcss. who's lately photographed in the Middle F.ast, shares the expenence on October 2 at 5:30, Carpenter Center. Architect. Bruce Graham, partner of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill in Chicago, is Eliot Noycs visiting design critic this fall and speaks at Gund Hall. October 29 at 6. Editor. America's "forgotten" bibliographer, according to Michael Winship '71, is Herman ICrnst Ludewig. Having just edited the Bibliography of American literature, Winship should know. He describes Ludewig's efforts on September 2 at 4:30. in Houghton. Political Fellows. Putting forth their "personal perspectives on politics"—in other words, speaking their minds—is the first thing the 1986 fall Fellows of the Institute of Politics must do. Hear them at 8, September 17, in the Arco Forum at the Kennedy School. Horticulture. There's more to landscaping than meets the eye when it's done right. Two symposia at the Arnold Arboretum should help—"Landscaping with Perennials" (October 17), and "Landscaping with Flowering" (October 18). Be prepared to spend a whole day with these British and American experts. From 8:30 to 4, $70; (617)524-1718. Lecture-Luncheons. The Peabody Museum embraces the Soviet Union this time around (last year it was Native Americans) and invites six scholars to lend us their view of it: Olcg Grabar (Islamic art. October 8); Lubomyr Hajda (ethnic groups, October 22); Nina Tumarkin (World War II, November 5): Adam Ulam (leadership, N o v e m b e r 19); Jurij Stricdter (literature, December 3); and C O Lambcrg-Karlovsky (archaeology, date to


Trade ^irti 速

350 years of outstanding... Leadership, Scholarship, Fellowship. Unparalleled contributions. To the arts And sciences. Remarkable achievements.. Of students. Alumni. Faculty. Harvard is a symbol... Of honor, Loyalty, Integrity. A legacy of excellence We're proud to salute. Coca-Cola USA Division of

c 1986,{The Coca-Obla Company Coca-Cola' and Coke are trademarks of The Coca-Cola Company.


Gilli/in Wachsman and Todd Waggoner, 1986 U.S. I'aiis Champions, vanning up for "An Evening With Champions," to benefit At Jimmy Finn/. come). Fiom noon to 2, $20; reservations and specifics at (617) 495-2269. Fine Arts. Among the Museums' fall programs Is "The World of Art and Architecture in 1636." It turns out to have been a rather good year. John M. Roscnfield, Aldrieh professor of Oriental art, leads off (October 8 and 9) with a description of China and Japan—just as Harvard was starting up far away. This and subsequent talks will be given Wednesday evenings and repeated Thursday mornings; they'll also be given in New \ork. For tickets and further information— including the Museums' fall seminar schedules—call (617) 495-4544. New 350th Symposia. Add these two to the long list. September 5 at 4: "Racial and Cultural Diversity at Harvard: A Review of the Last Fifteen Years" (IY-16, with S. Allen Counter, director of the Harvard Foundation; II. Naylor Fitzhugh '30. M.B.A. '33; and Muriel Snowden '38). September 6 at 10:30: "Moral Education and the Secondary School Experience: A Transatlantic View" (VI-15, with Peter Gomes, Plummet professor of Christian morals: Eric \V. K. Anderson, headmaster of Eton Cullegc, England; and others). Poets' Heading. Maxinc Kumin '46. Linda I'astan '54, Adrienne Rich '51, and Ruth Whitman '44 share the stage of Agassi/. Theatre on September 4, at 8; $10.


Christie's, the oldest art auction firm in the world, congratulates Harvard on its 350th anniversary.

Miff"*-Jr.., ite-.Vk —• Mtii

CHRISTIES 502 Park Avenue, New York. N.Y. 10022


Mota benr. November 7, 8, and 9 are closer than they sound. They mark the seventeenth figureskating exhibition that Eliot House has produced for the benefit of the Jimmy Fund. As the Fund's largest annual contributor, it's raised $600 to date. Brian Boitano. U.S. Men's and World Men's Champion, heads a big cast of world-class skaters. At Bright Arena, at 8 (7 and 8). and I (9). Order tickets early ($12, $6) through the Publicity Directors, Jimmy Fund Committee, Eliot House, Harvard University, Cambridge. Massachusetts 02138. Unless otherwise noted, tickets for events, including those during /he 350th anniversary celebration, can be purchased eg /he Holyoke Center Ticket Office, (617) 495-2663. Ticketsfor350th events are sold on a first come,firstserved basis. The general information number for the 350th is (617) 495-3500. Additional centers in Wadsworth House and hkinun Hall will provide information about ticket availability. For up-to-the-minute information on TVand radio coverage of events, contact the Harvard Mews Office (617)495-1585.


We Couldn't Have Done It Without You!

Abaco Inn • ACMI • All American Sports • Alumni Against Apartheid • Alumni Flights Abroad • Arthur T. Gregorian • Art Experience • Arundel Point • From July 1985 to July 1986, Har- Publishing • AT&T • AT&T International • Audi • Audio Forum vard Magazine increased its advertis• Bally Manufacturing • Avis • Bally Fitness ing revenue by 54.6%. • To all our Bank of Boston • • Banana Republic • advertisers who joined us this year, B a r r o n ' s • Basic Bank of New England • we say thank you. • We look forson • Boston Park Books • Boston Ediward to growing with you in 1987. • Associates • BristolPlaza • Brattle Four House • Capital Teas Myers • Cambridge • Carrington Pierce • Champs-Elysees • Charles Hotel • Chocolate Catalogue Christie's • Coffee Connection • Colonial Inn • Colonnade • Columbia University Executive Programs • Company Store • Concept II • Cooley's/Marco Polo • Coop • Copley Plaza • Cotton Bay Club • Crimson • Cunard • Cutty Sark • David McKee Gallery • Dewar's • Doral Tuscany • Drexel, Burnham, Lambert • Eastward on the Ocean • Edgewater Place • Embassy Suites • Endicott House • Esplanade Tours • Exploration Holidays and Cruises • E. F. Hutton • Fidelity • Gloucester Rockers • Grove's Dictionaries • Gruenebaum Gallery • Harbor View Hotel • Hartmann Luggage • Harvard Alumni Association • Harvard Graduate School of Design • Harvard Shop • Harvard Summer School • Henry Holt Company • Hirschl Adler Galleries • Holidays by Appointment • Hotel Meridien • IBM • Impact • Italia Adagio • Ivy Growth Fund • JFK School of Government • John Harvard Collection • J. August • Kedron Design • Kidder Peabody • Kirkland Enterprises • Lafayette Hotel • Le Pli • Lucien Goldschmidt • L.L. Bean • MasterCard • Morgan Guaranty Trust • Nancy Fleming's Down Shop • National Car Rental • Newbury Fine Arts • Newsweek • New York Life • New York Times Books • Nikon • Norm Thompson • North Country • Nuveen • Out of Town News • Queensboro Shirt • Questers • Quinlan Press • Quo Vadis • Radcliffe College • Raymond & Whitcomb • REI • Rhapis Gardens • Ritz-Carlton, Boston • Riva Poor • Royal Caribbean Cruises • Royal Sonesta • Schaub Communities • Scottish Lion • Seabrook Conference Resort • Sedia Chairs • Serendipity Tours • Shreve, Crump & Low • Smithsonian Magazine • Sotheby's International Realty • Stephen Greene Press • Stolichnaya • Strong Funds • St. James Church • Thos. Moser • Time Magazine • Traditions, Ltd. • Travel Anywhere • United States Trust • U.S. Commemorative • Vanguard Group • Waldenbooks • Wall Street Journal • Westin Hotel • West Side Kids • Windjammer Cruises • Wireless Catalogue • Wiscasset Music Company • World Explorer Cruises • World Neighbors

Thurs. The week we looked terrorism in the eye and proposed away to mate it blink. Its face has grown familiar. In the endless images of twisted wreckage and shattered bodies left scattered in its wake. It claims to work for many causes, but wields only one toolâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;violence. And its target is you. Your family, your children, your life.

The face of terrorism. It's become a major force in our world, and Newsweek has detailed its violent development. But we didn't stop there. Because when Newsweek looks at a story, we see beyond the face of it. Beyond the problems, or the

situations, or even the motivationsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;we see and search for solutions. Recently, we proposed 10 concrete steps designed to combat terrorism. Among them: improved intelligence gathering, cracking down on unsafe airports and greater pressure on terrorist allies.


That's our prescriptive approach to the newsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;reporting not only what's happening, but what can be done about what's happening. And over the years, we've applied that prescriptive approach to such varied and difficult dilemmas as civil rights, Vietnam, South Africa

and crime. Reporting the bad news and suggesting good answers. Part of the reason Newsweek's won more awards for journalistic

excellence than any other news magazine. And a good reason for you to start taking a look at the world through our eyes.

Newsweek Why it happened. What it means.

I n I O I l O n n n n Alotofengineering II U v

W w l

I I I V J I I calls itself German. . . T o appreciate the

enqineennq is a ssssd W

^| _^




It^A ^J

. \J

look at the 1986V2 , Volkswagen Quantum GL I Sedan. Its fueln injected engii " jectecP^engine,designed

to behold, susssst.

r ^ O l l f M f l for Autobahn driving, has 5 KJWl I W l V J * cylinders. Result: It runs smooth and quiet and delivers all the power y o u l l need. The Quantum GL Sedan has a patented track-correcting rear axle. Result: Improved road handling on curves. Our engineers also gave the Quantum GL stretch-out roominess and luxurious appointments. Then they finished it with an attention to detail that was positively... well, German. And after all that, they did one thing more:


©1986 Volkswagen ISeotbelts sove lives.!




he global array of nations, societies, and institutions that Harvard College joined in the 1630s was much smaller than today's equivalent. At the same time, it was far more scattered, its parts separated by formidable barriers both physical and intellectual. A letter from London might take eight weeks to reach Boston—or two to three times that long, depending on the timing of ship departures and degrees of luck in catching the trade winds once under way. Obviously, news from outside of England was bound to take even longer. This was no less true of communication between other places—China and Europe, for example, or Istanbul and distant outposts of the Ottoman Empire, from Hungary to the Persian Gulf. Or take the matter of language. Only a small elite within any society then in existence could hope to decipher "the news," once it at last arrived. Some advanced and widely diffused languages—principally Latin, Greek, Arabic, Chinese, soon to be joined by French—made possible correspondence among individuals able to use them. But the maintenance of this fragile network depended everywhere on tiny minorities. Therein lies the significance of perhaps the most easily misread of those famous sentences from Ate Englaiuls First Fruits that one sees when about to enter Harvard Yard from the west through the Johnston Gate: "One of the next things we longed for and looked after was to advance Learning [em-



THE WORLD AT HARVARD'S BIRTH continued phasis in the original] and perpetuate it to Posterity; dreading to leave an illiterate Ministcry to the Churches, when our present Ministers shall lie in the Oust." T h e founders wanted a learned clergy, not just a diligent, theologically correct one. And why? Because in learning was to be found the tie without which a colony would be cut off from civilization, the product of development over centuries. T h e message contained in this remarkable definition of priorities deserves consideration in its own right. Before turning to that, however, let me pose a more immediate question. Assuming at least a sporadic flow of information from beyond ("ape Cod or the "Plimouth Plantation," as well as the ability to make something of it, in what would it have consisted? Some important things had been happening no farther away than Quebec, where as recently as 1629 the great Champlain had been taken prisoner during a major English assault on the lower St. Lawrence valley. He was released, and Canada restored to the French, by a treaty signed in 1632 at SaintCermain-en-Laye. That much New England colonists must surely have known; but they could scarcely have l>ecii expected to perceive the full meaning of these events for their own settlement and their descendants' future. Shocked by the humiliation of Quebec's fall. Cardinal Richelieu took two steps he hoped would prevent any recurrence. First, he created the powerful Company of New France (better known as that of the Hundred Associates) and granted it sole rights to develop the St. Lawrence trade. Thus French ambitions in North America were launched upon a course of vigorous expansion that would end only with defeat at the hands of English troops and colonists 130 years later. Even more important, because it helped to defeat those same ambitions, was the cardinal's second step. For in 1629, while chartering the Company of the Hundred Associates, he closed the French overseas possessions to Protestants. Granted, Richelieu had considerable cause to worry about the Huguenots. Those of La Rochelle on the Bay of Biscay had mounted a stubborn resistance finally overcome in a costly siege that had ended only the year before the Quebec crisis. Granted as well, he suspected their coreligionists in Canada of having had divided loyalties during the British attack there. One still must ask how different North Americas map might look today had Huguenots been allowed, even encouraged, as English religious dissenters were at least some of the time, to settle in their own nations colonies. Instead, during the next century and a half, French Protestants in the tens of thousands emigrated to Prussia, Holland. South Africa, and, albeit in smaller numbers, to the English outposts in America from South Carolina to Boston. Without wishing to suggest that Richelieu dominated all the world's headlines in the 1630s and 1640s, I should point out that in 1635, when the Cencral Court of Massachusetts was already moving toward a decision "to give ÂŁ400 towards a schoale or colledge," the redoubtable minister of Louis XIII seems to have been at or near the peak of his energetic form. In Febmary he established the French Academy, whose members, the forty "immortals," were called upon to purify and defend the language, with the cardinal serving as leader and protector. (Harvard's founding was not, so far as one can penetrate our forefathers' thoughts, an effort to match this awesome development in the then hub of the universe of letters.) Richelieu for his part turned almost immediately from setting up the academy to entering the Thirty Years' War. For 50


Period potentates. At top: France's Cardinal Richelieu. Center, left: leyasu, the first Tokugawa shogun of Japan. Center, right: India's Shah J a h a n . Bottom, left: Tsar Michael of Russia. Bottom, right: Ottoman sultan Murad IV.

more than a decade lie had been the nonbelligerent ally and paymaster o f selected, mostly Protestant, German princes. Now, following the death of KingGustav Adolf of Sweden on the battlefield and of the imperial generalissimo Wallenstein at the hands of assassins, the French leader decided that he had no choice but to become the avowed and open enemy of both the Holy Roman Kmperor and, more immediately, the latter's Hapsburg cousin. K i n s Philip I V o f Spain. His Most Christian (i.e., Prench) Majesty's declaration o f war upon His Most Catholic (Spanish) Majesty was delivered when a French herald clattered into the central square of Brussels, reined up his horse, ordered one of his aides to sound a crumpet, and himself proceeded to read aloud his masters proclamation. This was on May 19, 1635, in time to have been a topic o f conversation in New England, before the new "schoalc or collcdge" was voted into existence. or the colonies, it seems doubtful that either correspondence or newsprint was as important a source of knowledge about goings-on in the Old World as was the intermittent arrival of new settlers, totaling in N e w England alone no fewer than 17,000 immigrants by 1641. These presumably brought with them, and subsequently shared, information current back home before they left. In the case of Massachusetts, the presence by the early 1640s of a hundred or more university alumni from Cambridge and Oxford suggests that at lease some of the "builders of the Bay Colony," as Samuel Eliot Morison would one day call them, could and probably did try to keep up not only with the events of war and peace in Europe but also with new ideas concerning political theory, science, and theology. Knowledge of Latin continued to be essential for anyone striving to stay abreast o f such developments as Harvey's discovery of the principles governing the circulation of the blood. The same was true of most works by Descartes and Pascal in Prance, or by Galileo (whose Dialogue on Two New Srienres appeared at Leiden in 1638). Less well-known to readers today but widely discussed in the 1630s and 1640s were the works of a Belgian bishop, Jansenius, and a Moravian theologian, Comenius. I'he former's Angiisfimis, though the Jansenism it ins p i r e d was a C a t h o l i c m o v e m e n t , b r e a t h e d a s t e r n fundamentalism that appealed to many Protestants as well, especially those of the Puritan persuasion. Comenius. on the other hand, in such books as 'The Labyrinth of the World (1631), offered religious lessons embellished with progressive theories of education, including coeducation.


T h e point to be made here, however, is that Latin was no obstacle to educated settlers in Massachusetts. Quite the contrary, it was a help to them in sharing the thoughts of seers and scholars.


uring the summer of 1636, when the General Court was about to formalize its decision to establish the college in Newetowne, a Spanish army was pushing southward into Fiance from the Netherlands, seizing the key fortress town of Corbie, bearing down on Paris itself and in general making Richelieu's declaration of war appear, for the time being anyway, to have been a very bad move. In Germany, by contrast, almost all the major native combatants had just signed a compromise peace at Prague. What had happened was that the great "German war" had been abruptly converted into some-

thing quite different, a naked confrontation between the two great Catholic monarchies of Prance and Spain, In distant China, meanwhile, the Manehus proclaimed a new imperial dynasty at M u k d e n (now Shen-yang), its administration patterned after that of the existing M i n g government. Within a year, this Manchu tide would overwhelm Korea as well, reducing it to a vassal state despite what we are told was the continued popular allegiance there to the M i n g emperors. These startling events on the mainland may or may not help to explain the triumph of xenophobia in Japan. 'I'he practice of cutting ties with foreign societiesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;sakoku or "the countrv apart"â&#x20AC;&#x201D;had begun in the first years of the century with the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate. leyasu. T h i s policy, obviously reflecting both distrust of European merchants and a growing hostility toward Christian missionaries, was not the work of a single man. It is nevertheless most clearly identified with leyasu's grandson, Tokugawa lemitsu, who had first severed commercial and diplomatic ties with the Spanish in the Philippines and then, in 1636, forbade all Japanese subjects to live abroad. In the home islands themselves the persecution of Christians was further intensified. T h e following year, a group of Puritans including T h e o p h i lus Eaton, John Davenport, Eaton's younger brother, Nathaniel, and probably John Harvard sailed from London for N e w

Back in Great Britain, other religious dissenters chose a quite different course of action. England. T h e elder Eaton and Davenport would soon move on to found New Haven, but Nathaniel Eaton and Harvard established themselves in Charlcstown, Massachusetts. Back in Great Britain, other religious dissenters chose a quite different course of action. At Edinburgh that June o f 1637, Presbyterian outrage at King Charles I's order to have the English liturgy read throughout Scotland triggered the St, Giles's riot, to be followed in only a few months by the signing of the Solemn (not to say defiant) League and Covenant. W i t h the Covenanters in full cry, one powerful theme of the rapidly approaching Civil War had been enunciated. These rebels in Great Britain, of course, held no exclusive patent to practice violence. Cossacks fighting Turks in the Crimea offered Tsar Michael the recently captured fortress of Azov, only to have him decline it rather than face the sultan in a full-scale war. In the eyes o f the Russian ruler's government, far more important than affairs on the Black Sea coast continued to be the disputed western borderlands. T h e r e , even though an uneasy peace had been signed with Poland in 1634, the great civil and military crisis of the mid-seventeenth century, destined to embroil Poles, Ukrainians, and Muscovites alike, was rapidly approaching. At the other extreme of the great Eurasian land mass, in 1637 a band of the tsar's subjects completed the long trek across Siberia and founded the first Russian settlement in sight of the Pacific Ocean. On what would today be reckoned November 25, 1637, as readers of those words on the Johnston Gate are well aware, the General Court of Massachusetts voted that "the colledg is SF.PTRMBKH-OC.TOBER 1986



NOVA T O T I U S T E R R A R U M ORBIS GEOC The contours of the world as understood in the year of Harvard's b i r t h , shown in a map printed in A n t w e r p in 1636. T h e cartographer is Isaak Verbiest, A u s t r a l i a is terra incognita, the shape of N o r t h A m e r i c a is poorly grasped, and the following is afoot:

(Canada, restored to French control, launches a course of expansion. \ "sehoaie or colledge" is planned for Ncwetowne. The D u t c h settle in on Manhattan Islam!

while compatriots struggle lo wresl Brazil from Portuguese control. Sweden contemplates colonies in the Delaware region. The C o m p a n y of the Isles of A m e r i c a extends French power in the West Indies lo challenge the

English. T h e universities of Mexico ( l i l y and San Marcos de L i m a celebrate their 85th anniversaries.



HICA AC HYDROGRAPHI EMENDATA-*..^M king Charles girds for battle with Scottish Covenantors in civil war. Tsar Michael aims to found the lirsi Russian settlement in sight of the Pacific. A Spanish armv pushes south from the Netherlands into France. Cardinal Richelieu takes lime from his realpolitik to found the French Academy. Cossack* fight Turks in the Crimea. Japan achieves a triumph of xenophobia. Shah Jahan remains unwilling to abandon Afghanistan to Uzbek tribesmen. Taj Mahal rises at Agra. Murad IV wishes to take Baghdad from the Persians. China prepares to overwhelm Korea. Madagascar's repressive ruling class nervously eves arriving missionaries.



T H E W O R L D A T H A R V A R D ' S B I R T H continued

ordered to bee at Newetowne," a decision followed in spring 1638 by another, to the effect that "Newetowne shall henceforward be called Cambridg." By that time, the Overseers had announced their first appointment, designating as "master of the College" the recently arrived Nathaniel Eaton. To provide a home for him and his familv, as well as to fix the site of the

Certain English dons may have found in their mail some mention of the recent birth of a college. institution itself, the Board that winter took another important step, purchasing a frame house in Cambridge formerly owned by "Goodman Pevntrcc." With this dwelling came the oneacre pasture destined to be called the College ^ard. During the summer of 1638, Master Eaton moved his family into Peyntree House, taking up residence on the northern edge of a settlement comprising some fifty or sixty homesteads, most of them quite tightly bunched within an area bounded by "Braintrec Street" (now Massachusetts Avenue east of Harvard Square), the town well in today's Brattle Square, plus what at present we know as Eliot Street, South Street, and Holyoke Street. Between this concentration and the Charles River lay the Ox and Ship Marshes. Going north one encountered only a few scattered farms and the Burying Ground at the foot of the Cow Common. Here in Newetowne, Eaton began to hear recitations by the first freshman class." Then on September 14 in Charlestown, John Harvard died of "a consumption," leaving to the new institution his library and half of his fortune. This portion, consisting in part of the Queen's Head Tavern in Southwark, England, was valued at just under ÂŁ780, almost double the amount initially pledged by the General Court. T h e following March the name "Harvard College" was adopted by vote of the Court's understandably grateful membership.


round the globe these events, however portentous they may seem to us in retrospect, can scarcely have aroused much excitement on the part of even the few people who learned of them. Certain English dons, especially at Cambridge and more especially at John Harvard's own Emmanuel, may have found in their mail some mention of the recent birth and christening of a college; but among the great of the world, who would have cared? Not the young Ottoman sultan, Murad IV, engaged in trying to take Baghdad from the Persians, which he did in 1638, nor India's Shah Jahan, mourning his dead queen while at Agra her tomb, the Taj Mahal, slowly assumed its matchless proportions. Not Shogun Iemitsu, who that same year at last expelled the Portuguese traders, leaving the Dutch at Hirado and Chinese at Nagasaki as Japan's only surviving links with the outside world. Not the leaders of the originally Indonesian Hova ruling class in Madagascar, harshly repressing their African subjects while at the same time watching nervously as Portuguese, then English, and soon Erench missionaries and



explorers made their first serious landings on that huge, forbidding island. And certainly not King Charles in England, girding for struggle with the Scottish Covenanters in the (for him) disastrous Bishops' Wars. Harvard, be it said, was engaged in producing a fairly serious disaster of its own. In August 1639, only a year after he had opened the college, Master Eaton was arraigned before the General Court for having assaulted.his personal assistant. He was found guilty, fined, forced to make an abject apology, and dismissed from his post as master of the College. Only then did details of his financial peculation, including the embezzlement of part of John Harvard's bequest, begin to come to light. Before anything could be done about these further charges, he escaped first to Piscatauqua, then to Virginia, and finally back to Europe. He died in an English debtor's prison. After a twelve-month interruption, the fledgling institution reopened in the autumn of 1640 under its first president, Henry Dunster, who brought with him better days. Within two years the first building, the "Old College," was completed, about where Grays Hall now stands, and occupied in time for the first Commencement, at which was graduated what could rightly be called the original "Class of '42." In several other parts of the world as well, events were by this time taking important turns. While Harvard students were moving into the Old College, the Sieur dc Maisonneuve was founding the city of Montreal, overlooking the St. Lawrence some 160 miles inland from Quebec. In so doing, he proudly signaled French determination to push westward from "Can-

Two aspects of the Baroque's energetic pursuit of power: The Sentry, by Carel Fabritius, reflects war-weariness while condemning sloth; Gerard Don's Astrotwmer by Candlelight (opposite) highlights the search for knowledge.

ada," as previously denned, toward the Great Lakes and the Mississippi. In Europe, French fortunes were showing a still more dramatic recovery' from their low point in 1636, the terrible "year of Corbie." With his Spanish enemies distracted by major revolts in Portugal and Catalonia, Richelieu was able to press hard for a military decision; and at Rocroi in 1643, only months after the cardinal's death, Conde's and Turennc's French troops overwhelmingly defeated the once feared tercios of Spain's Army of Flanders. It was to prove one of the few genuinely "decisive" battles in early modern history, launching in effect the age of Louis XIV while that eponymous ruler was still only a child of five.


here is a natural temptation, when we compare the small beginnings of Harvard with the ponderous affairs of the Old World, to conclude that no real connection existed between them, save the fortuitous one of contemporaneity'. What does President Dunstcr's installation have to do with the long pontificate of Urban VIII, the Barbcrini pope who devoted much of his time to opposing, and seeking to prevent, any peaceful settlement of the Thirty Years' War? On the surface, nothing. What link can one imagine between the College's first Commencement on the one hand and, on the other, the bitter struggles of Dutch forces to wrest from Portuguese control both Brazil and Africa's Gold Coast, on opposite sides of the Atlantic? Certainly none that is very apparent. And while Afghanistan provides a frequent topic of conversation in and

around today's Harvard, few residents of the then newly christened Cambridge can have been aware that India's Moghul ruler, none other than Shah Jahan the Builder, in the 1640s was abandoning the entire territory beyond the Hindu Kush in the face of tireless pressure from fierce Uzbek tribesmen. And yet it would, I suggest, be a mistake to view Harvard's founding as nothing but an isolated event, occurring on a small plot of grazing ground at the western margin of European civilization. For seen in the context of that civilization, in its seventeenth-century stage of development, the creation of a college deserves to be viewed as a bold initiative that was not without "baroque" elements of its own. It took place in a time of eager, impatient, often ruthless strivingâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;though ruthlessness happily had no part to play in this particular episode unless one cares to dwell on Nathaniel Eaton's behavior toward his underlings. (Happily for both sides, no general, sustained conflict between European settlers and local Indian tribes occurred in New England until the outbreak of King Philip's War, almost forty years after Harvard's founding. More characteristic of the earlier relations seems to have been John Eliot's preaching to a large number of no doubt puzzled, but not resentful, Indians at his famous assemblage of June 1647, held in the College Yard.) While the spirit of the seventeenth-century world embodied a dynamism often translated into violence, both in language and in action, violent deeds were not the only, and probably not the truest, expression of that spirit. T h e late Garl Friedrich, in his volume The Age ofthe Baroque, caught it better by recalling an assertive, infinitely varied style that centered on the "restless search for power after power unto death." Fricdrich, like most other students of the period, stresses the often bizarre interplay between medieval and more novel themes. Richelieu, for example, was vers' much a man of his time when he sent a herald in royal livery to announce from the saddle of his cavalry mount the declaration of war against Spain in 1635, scrupulously observing the prescriptions'of traditional pomp.'Yct this action, almost quaint in its theatricality, began a chain of developments whose effect was to make Fiance, within less than half a century, Europe's first "great power" in the modern sense of the term. Were Harvard's founders also men of their age? If we seek only flamboyant dress or speech or gestures, they will scarcely seem to us figures of the baroque. In certain other respects, however, that is just what they were. T h e y saw in the survival of learning the one thing capable of keeping their remote plantation in touch with a culture they had left behind them in miles but not in spirit. And they strove to achieve their purpose by adapting the only models they had, the English colleges bequeathed by the Middle Ages and the Reformation. But their seeming determination to stay in touch with the past was not just a product of nostalgia or homesickness. To have founded a college in the wilderness, only sixteen years after the first settlers came ashore on this segment of the Atlantic coast, was an expression of confidence bordering on hubris. Learning was a form of power, a source of strength not only for religion but also for governance; and in moving quickly to give it a base in the New World, they chose their own way of joining in a "restless search" that would in truth end only with life itself. ^ Franklin L. Forel is McLean professor of'ancient and modern history, and a former dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences. SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


NYSK Member Ortuufiutfiaf* *bbon. P»oetoi4Piinr Abraham 4 Co. Adami A Peck Adjrni (Wttlon W.) I Go. Adier. Coleman 4 Co. *'»o*ACo. Inc. Alfyi(».C-|ACo

* • M-il! Hrirr.r-.

Amon. Ba»r- SCo Incorxreted Anderson A Sir udvkk A t i d i m . Power 4 RDlhBchlld U N A GiUannen Aronson iSura'3. & Cc Arthurs Lettrange & Co. Ath 'Mr- K -i a Co. Aihsr A Ciaini AslelACe. Alter A Ross Auchtncloss, Partei A Redpalti Auerbach. Pollak A Richardson Bathe ACo Baton, Slovenian A Ca Bacon, Whipple A Co.

B um I G M H Betrd[R0beitW.)ACo, Biter. Sifflbndi4Co.,(nc. Biker. Wlttt A CO. Baker, Week* A Co 9il\ Surge A Kiaus Barr <J.S > A Company. Inc Bairel. Fitch. Hortli A Co.. Inc. Barrett A tamntny B S F I - I U j ACn

Barren Ifleii D 1 A Co Baicfiker Ealon Ado Bear sreanuACo Beiuchamp. Witt A S i m Becker (A C i i C o Inc. Bell A Sickwtflh Benjamin. Hill A Company Berrien A Co. Berk. (Bernard) ACo. flernird Winkler A Co Bemtteln A Co. fletti. Borland A Co. Billings. Qrcolt A Co n c: r i A Co. Bla r A Co. Ir coipsmed flla n.O H ! A Ca-npaiy filijr (Wil!lam| A Company Bills A Co. Blunl tills A Simmons BdeHther A CumturiY Bpitnghl (George D B j A [D Bn;• prth Sullivan A Co-npany Incorporated Braaiordi-J C 1 ACo Branch A Company Branch. Cabell A Co Brand. Grume! A Selgei. Inc Brandenburg A Co. UrimtiergA Cell rinlcn A Company 8rod (A T.) A Co B i neks IJH.i A CO. Brown |Alai] A Sent Brown flrnihen Harriman A Co Brukenfeld A Co mp an r Bronnat ACe. Brum. Ho'demen A Co Brush. Sloeumo ACo.. inc Buck (RicrtirdJ | 4 C o Butkner ACo. Bull. Holden ACo Bull A Law Burgeis A Leith Bumtl{W.f.]ACe Bumhim and Cornpan y Burton. Dana A Co. Butcher A Sherrerd Sutler. Hernck A Marshall Stiller. Wick A Co. Cadi. Roberts A Company Cehill. Smilh A CUIalln Carey |H T) Joost A Carlnle AJacquelln Carreau A Company Carre re A Co. Carter ACo. C a i w l i m ACD Chace. Whiteside A Wrntiow, inc. Chaplin. McGuiness ACo ChauntayACo. Chrlsiapher IB C | A Cornpan) Clark. Dodge A Co Clark IT w i A Co.

Clarke (Richard W ) A Co Clews (Henry) A C D . Cos (Jacques) A Co. Cotfln A Burr, l K O r x » t e d Conor shall A Hlekt Cohen, Slroonion A Co. Coleman A Company Coirw. Notion A Company Connelly (F.J.) A Company Conning ACo. Cooke A Lucas Ceoley A Company Courts A Co. Cowen A Co. Crtigrnyle, Pinney A Co Cmfltnden. PodettaACo. Cullman Brothers Curliss Mouse A Company Oackerman (Harry C I A Co Dan U M.i 4 Co in: Dallas Union Co . Inc. Daly A Co., Inc. D'Assern ACo. Davenport A Co, Davit (Chn.) A Company Davit A Oavtt Oavlx (Morgan) A Co. Orris {Ralph w ) A Co Davit (ShtlbyCullom) ACo. Oe Coppel A Ooremus Oe Cordova (Cyril) A flio. Or Haven A Townjenfl CrosterA Bodlne DelalteldADelafield Dempsey Tegelf r A Co. Dewar. Roberuon A Pancoatl Diamond A Co. DiCkAMerlg.Smith Ditlmar A Company Fnc Dleon A Company Dodge (U.S.) A Ca. DomlntckAOomlnlck DODllttleACo. Doyle (Frank] A Co. Orach man ACo Draper. Sears A Co DteielACo. Dieytui A Co •nulla 4 Co. Dryidal* A Co. Dc'ly iFdwardJ | A C D Dunne (John V,] A Co. Dunscombe A Co. DuPamuiirACo.lrK. DuPonllFrandsl.rACo. Du Pont, Homsey A Company •urand(C.A.)ASon Eastman OH it n. Union SecuriHes A Co Edwards | A C i A Sons Edwards A Hani, Eis(leo) A Co. Eisele A Xing. Libaue Stcut A Co. Elder A Co Eliins. Moms. Stokes A Co E l-OTi A Co Ellis (D.M.| A Company Emanuel. Deellen A Co. Eppler. Guenn A Turner Inc. Erdman ACo Erntl A Co. Estabrook A Co Evans A Co.. Inc. Fagan A Company Fagenson(B.F) ACo. FahntstockACo. Farrell A Co. Fanvell Chapman A Co. Faulkner. Dawklns A Sullivan Federman, Slor>«hill A Co FelderACo. Ferris ACo. Fllor, Bullard A Smyth Finch, Wilton A Co Fine (WA.) A Co. Finkle. Seikls A WohlsleHer First Albany Corporation First Soulheaslem Corporation Fisher (YVl Hum] A Co Folger. Nolan, Flaming-W.B. Hibbs A Co., Inc. Fordon. Aidinner A Co Foster A Adams Foster flfot,.Webir ACn. Fotter(F.V.|ACo. Feeler A Marshall Fowler A flosenau

FOr,(E.DpACO. Fnnkanbuth A Co Freehllng, Meyerhorl A Co. FreldayACo. Fiitd (Albert) A C*. Friedlander [Percy) A Co. FnjntkeslH.M.f A C D . Fuw-SthmelileACu ,lnt Galoet A Company Gale ((LB.) A Co. Garfnld&Ca. Garret! rfl3ben.i A Sons Gartman, Rose A Feuer Garvin. Banlel A Co, Oenglai irothers Gerstley. Suniieln A Co Gilbert iCdnlon) A Co. Giliifl A Company Glendlnnlng (Robt.) A Co. G'Orf Fcrgan A CO Goldberg (HL i i Co Goldman A Co. Goldman, Sachs ACo. Goldsmith (H.W.J A Co GolSwaler |L J | A Co Gel kin BombackACo GoodDodyACo, Goodklnd, Neuleld, Jordan Co.. inc Goodman (Joseph D.) A Co Gordon Bros. ACo. GOSS(A.H.rACo, GontitblfmetDACe. Gra<HsonrW.O.|ACO. Gnnbery, Marache A Co. Granger A Company Green. Ellis A Anderson Greene (DavidJ.) A C D . Greene A Ladd Gregory A Sons Grimm ACo. Gioss A Company GrunLal ACo. G ruts A Company GruttlGSMfl A Son Gude.WinralllACd. H m i G C I ACo H jDBIIIljn fl I Ul Hackney A Co. Han (P V.) A Company HalleASliegliU HJllnjrlin A Co. Hallowell. Sulrbergar, Jenas Klrkland A Co. Kamershlag, finrg A Co Hardy A Co Hams ACe. Harris (J-J.) A Co.. Inc Hairis. Up ham A Co. Harrison A Company (Ira) A CO. HawkesACo Hay.FaletACa. Hayden.Slone ACo. Hazletl. Burt A Watson HechlACo. HeckeiA Co. Heller A Meyer Heller (Stanley) A Co. Hemphill,NoyesACOHenderson (Charles f.} A Sons Henderson. Harnson A Struthers Henderson, it C ; A Co., Inc. Henry, Franc A Co. Hentz(H.| ACo. Heirman (H.E.) A Company HerriB Id A Stem Henlg, Farber A McKenna Hess. Grant A Remlnglon, Inc. HickcAPrke Hiegel A Company Hill A Co. Hill. Darlington A Co. H.I Hard i J J 6 > A Son Hirsch A CO Hirshon, Roth ACo. Hogle 0.A.) A Co. Holsapple A C D . HomansACo. Hooker A Fay. Inc. Hopkins. Harbach ACo. HoppinBrot. ACo, Homblower A Weeks Howard, Well. Labourist**. Frlednchs and Company Hoyt (Co igal*) A CoHummer (Wayne) A Co

IM:hins. Mnxter A Parkloton HutlOn|E.F.|ACO. Hutten|W.E.]ACa. Illinois Company Inrniporalefl fThe) Ingaiit A Snyder Jacobson (Bea|armnJ A Sent Jacquemol A Co. jairee and Co Jamieten A C; Janney, Oollet A BarUei. inc. JesopALarnonl Jewett, Newnnan A Co Johnson A Ba ley Johnson (Hugh) A Company. I K . Jcli'tiun LaincSfuseandCo . I I K Jahntton A Luigei Jones (Edward 0. i A Co. Jones, Krteger A Co. Joseph u. Bernard] A Co. JatcpMhalACfl. Kahn (L.Stanley) A Co. Kalb.Voc-rhilACO Xamen ACo Kaplan (John •* l A Co. KjUenberg. SOui ACD Kaulmann.AlibergACo Kay. Richards A Company Rear, Tarter A Co. Kemper (John A.) A Company Kennedy IJ R) and Company. Inc. Kerbs A Co Kemgood ACe. Kidder [A.M.] A Co.. Inc Kidder, Peabody A C D . Kleifiin(E.M.iACo. Klngsley :S J ) A Co. Klauber (Murrayl A Co. Koemer, Gordon A Company Kohler A Company Kohlmeye'ACo. Kohn(Richai(E.)SCD. Kuhn.LoebACo, LaBrancheAWoodACo. Ladenburg. Tkalmann A Co. La France A Carmlchac-l La Grange A Co Laldlaw A Co. Laird. Bissell A Meeds Laird A Company, Corporation Lamm (H.J,] A Co La Morte. Mibney A Co LamsDnBrot.ACo. Langley[W.CJACo. Lawrence iCyus J.) A Sons Lawsen, Levy. Williams A Stem LaiardFrerciACe. Leavilt, Spooner A Company Lee Hlgginson Corporation Leggl.JohnC.rACe Lehman Bros. Leaart. McHugh A Co Lentt. Hewlon ACo Lester. RyMiACo. Levien. Greenwald A Co Levy|fl.Dbertj.)ACo. Lewis (John H | ACo Llpper(Arthui|ACo. Leber Brolhers A C D . Loekwoed, Peck A Co. Loeb (Carl M.;, flhoadet A Co Loewl A Co. Iicorporaied Long A Meancy Lowitt (1. | A Co Lubelkin, Regan A Kennedy Luke. Banks A Weeks Lundborg(lrrng) ACo Ltni IS 0 1 ACo Lyons (W.L.) A Co Ma Dc n A Co. Mxkall A Cot M K q jo id A Coady Mattt. Greenwald ACo Man ley, Bennett A Co Mann. Diamaed A Co. Manning, Shanley ACo Maples A Goletchmldt Marcus Bros MatcusAConpany Marcus IJeMe-wn H.) A Co Inc. Marks A Camstjell Musah s (Thomn) A Co. Masten(A.E]ACo. Mutielli A Company Mayer (F.M ) A Co. Mayer A Hart Mayr [Joseph! A Company

McCarley A Company-. Inc. McCormick A Co. McOermolt(OavidH.)ACo McDenrtott(P<lltP)&Co, McDonald A Company McDonnell A Co.. Incorporated McGann (Albert) SecuriHo Company, IMC McKehry A Co MeLaughlln, Kaufman A Co. McMahonUchtenteidACo. McMannut A Mackey McMullen A Herd Mead, Miller A Co. Meelun{MJ.)ACo. Merrill Lynch. Pierce, Fetmer A Smith Incorporated Merrill. TutneriS Co.. Irtl Meslrow A Company Milcfiel. Schreiber. Watts A Co. Mitchell, Hutcfilnt A Co. Mllcttum. Jones A Templeton Model, Roland A Stone Mohawk valley Investing Company. Inc. Monigomery, ScotlACo. Mo«re(O.T.)ACo. Moore. Leonard A Lynch Moore A Schtev Moors A Cabot Morgan Stanley A Co, MDMiey(F.S.|ACo. M








, ' ,


: i

Molier A Schrvver Munn A McCauley Murch A Co.. Inc. ML I t tiey A Marseilles Murphy A Corntwiy Murray A Company Mash A Co Keubeiger A Berman ltewbeld's(W.H.)SenACo, Newborn, A Co. Newburger A C D . Newtnirger, LoebACo. Newhard.CookACo Hick U.F.) A Company Horns A Kenly Norwood (V.Lee) A CoNowland(PaulJ.)ACo, Ho yes (David A ) A Co Hugent A Igoe Nye A Whitehead Ollpttanl (Jas. H.) A Co Ollvo.HolahafiACs. Oppenheimer A Co. Oppenheimer. Neu ACo. Orvlt Brother A Co Paine, Webber. Jackson A Curtis Parrlth A Co. Pearsall A Company Peck|S.M)ACo. PeeHH.Ot A Company Pell A Company Peninglon. Collet A Co. Pershing A Co. Pelers. Writer A Chrislensen Corporation (The) Ptluglelder A Rust Plonnetmer (Carl H.) A Co. Philips. Rosen A Appel Picoll. Caulteld A Co Piper. Jaltray A Hopwood PiDini(B.W.|ACo Plohn (Chariest A Co Porges, Singer A Company Potter A Cooke Potter (E.N.) A Co. PreseeR A Company Prestprlchffl.W.IACo Price A Davis Proctor, Cook A Co. ProppACs., Inc. Pur cell ACo Putnam A Co. Pyne. Kendall A Holtlster Quail A Co.. Inc. Owlncey (Chas E.)ACo. Quinn A Co. Raebeck (William) A Co. Rautcher. Pierce A Co,. Inc. Flee d, Lear ACo. Reeves (Daniel) A Co. Retsnes. Ely. Beck ACo. Reiner (Milton E I 5 Co R«inh«ldt A Gardner Reynolds A Co)

Richard (C.B.) 4 Co Richards A C». RicMer, Lederman A Co. RlsUne(F.P.)ACo. Rhjer A Cc. Rmmaster, Adeibeig A Co Rlttmaster (David H.) A Co. Roberts (Norman C ) Company Robertson A Co. Robinson A Co .inc. Roblnion, Humphrey A Co. Rodetsky, Kleinahler. Walker A Co Rodman A Renshaw RoneylWM, C.) A CoRose (Reuben) A Co. flesnoaum(VVM M . I A C O Rose nihil 4 Co. Ross Blanehard A Co. Rots A Hirsch Rets. Low A Company Rett, Lynn A Co., h e Rossmann(F.L.) ACo Rotan, MosleACo. Rothutiild A Co. Rothschild (LF.) 4 Co. Rouse, Brewer, Becker A Bryant RuddACo Rupe (Dalles) 4 Sen, Inc. Rutt A Company, Inc, Russell U N . ) 4 Co.. Inc. Rulherlurd (John) 4 Co, Rutler 4 Cc Sacken(F.H.)4Co. SaoeACo Sage 4 Co. Salomon Bros. A Hutzler Salomon (F.t) 4 C*. Samuel (Ra4p4E.| 4 CdSanders 4 Company Sartariut 4 Co. SctieHmeyor. Werli 4 Co Schemman(R.Li4Co. Schenker (Adolph) A Co. SchlHACo. Schirmtr, Alherton 4 Co. Schloss(lrwin)4Co..lnc. Schneider, Bernel 4 Hickman, Inc Sche.ll 4 Co. Schif|ver 4 Co. Schwaoachtr ACo

SthwcKkan 4 Co. Schweiin (F.W.) 4 Co. Scott A Slringftllow Scranton(Chat. W.JACo. Security Associates, Inc. Seeley A Llndley SeHgman(J.4W)ACo Sample. Jacobs A Company. Incorporated Sha>nc(HB)4Co..tnc ShaskanACo Sbean(EJ.)4Co. Shearsen.KammlilACo. Shields 4 Co Shulro. Rett 4 Meyer Shuman, AgnewACe SUberbcrgACo Silver. Barry A Van Raalte Simon (IM.) 4 Co. Simon. Strauss 4 Klmme Simons (Murray) 4 Co. Sincere A Company Singer. Oeane A Scrlbner Smith. Barney A Co Smith (E Dutllh) 4 Co. S H I in Hague 4 Co Smith, Moore 4 Co. Smith 4 Wtlnoarg Smlthart(F.S.)ACo. Somen Schafer4 Co. Sorin 4 Co. Southwood(H.V.)4Ca. Sparks y . W ) 4 Co. Spear. Leeds 4 Kellogg Splcgellierg 4 Co. Spin gam. Heme. 4 Co. SpJtrar. 0 Neil 4 Co. Sprague A NanurtKk Sprayregen. Halt 4 Co. Spring 4 Co. Sttati (William R.) 4 Co. Slaflord 4 Co. Slamm(A.L|4Ca Steams 4 Co Stockier A Moore Stein Bros A Boyte

Sterner, Rouse ACo Sterling. Grace A Co. Stem A 8yck Stem (E.H.I A Co. Stem, Frank. Meyer A Fos Stern[HotberlE.)4Co. Stem. Hoffman 4 Co, Stem 4 Kennedy Stern, Luer 4 Co Sterne. Aget 4 loach Stevenson 4 Battram Stewart. Eubanks, Meverson 4 Co, Slitgfltz 4 Co Sltfel, Nlcolaus A Company, Incorporated Stlilman, Maynard 4 Co. Stokes.Hoyt4Co. Stone (Robert T) A Co. Straus. B'nsser 4 McOewell Slrautt. Phi ii. pi A Co. SlrercMr(J,)ACo. Sutra Bros. ACe. Sutre 4 Co. Ta>ceR.McAlpin4Davlt Talmage ACo Taylor (W.R.K ) 4 Co Thomson 4 McKlrninn Timmlns(J.R.)4CoTimpton(Rober1)4Co. Tobey A Kirk Tomes. Welsh A Wtwley TopliTt A Kaufman Tergeraon (R.M.| A Co. Townscnd. Oabney A Tyson trask (Spencer) A Co. Ravers A Hume neves A Company Thibe*. Collin 4 Co. Tsoiainoi (Theodott) 4 Co Fucker, Anthony 4 fl.L. Day Underwood, HcwhaiH 4 Co., Incorporated Ungerleitfet, Goetz ACo Van Alstyne. Hoel 4 Co Vandm Broock (Alfred L ) 4 Co. Vaughan4Co. Vercoe 4 Co. Vesce (Anthony P.) 4 Co. Viator. Common, Oann A Co. Vital A Hicfcey Viner(EdwardA.|ACo.,l(ic. Wagner.StottACo. Wainwrlghl(H.C,|4Co. Walker (G.H.) 4 Co. Walker (Joseph) 4 Sons Waiston A Co.. Inc. Wallers. Peck A Co. Warbvrton.Grelnar ACo. Ware AKeehps Wamer. Jenntngi, Mandel A Longstteth Wasserman A Co. Warlllng, Lerehen A Co. Wstton (T L-t A Co. Well A Ooyle WelngartenACe. Wels (Irving) A Company Wellington A Co. Werthctm A Co. WesthelmerACo Wheat (J C.) 4 CO. Whitcomb 4 Co. White. Weld 4 Co. Whltehouse4Co. Whitney (H.N.).Goadby4Co. Wlesentwrger (Arthur) 4CeWIleoiACo. Williams (Blair S.) A Co, Willltlon(J,R.|ABea« Wilton A Creem Wlneman. Welst A Co Winm.ll U B . ) A Co Wlnslow, Cohu 4 Stetson Incorporalsd Wlnthrop (Robert) 4 Co Wlsner4deClolrvflle Witter (Dean) 4 Co. Wol'e A Co Wood (A.C.I. Jr. 4 Co. Wood, Slruthere 4 Co Wood, Walker 4 Co, Woodcock, Moyer. Frieke 4 French, hie. Vernatl. Biddle 4 Co. Vales. Heilner 4 Woods Zimmerman 4 Co 2ock(j.A_)lCo Zuckermao. Smith 4 Co.

•Source: New York Sloe i Exchange Director)' for 1959,

In 1959 there were 660 brokers larger than DLJ. Twenty-seven years ago, there was no DLJ. Today, it's the second largest broker on Wall Street. Donaldson, Lufkin & Jenrette and its Pershing Division now account for 13% of the daily reported volume on the New York Stock Exchange—the second largest order flow. Rising from obscurity to the top is an uncommon achievement on Wall Street. Few, if any, have succeeded. DLJ is an exception.

Perhaps the exception. Research, the backbone of DLJ,has brought the country's largest institutional investors to its doors. Its aggressive trading has kept them there. Finding synergy and economic efficiencies between companies has placed DLJ among the top Merger and Acquisition firms in terms of "initiated transactions!' Investment Banking, a function usually associated with the topfirmson

1986 Donaldson, Lufkin & Jeowtte. Inc.

ME m i l L^nth Pierce ttnnet

A Smnft ir-cutpurjlEfl

Today there's only one.


Wall Street, is now clearly associated with DLJ. Twenty-seven years ago DLJ was founded on the idea that brains are more powerful than money. Today, DLJ has both. Its recent union with The Equitable has created a financial powerhouse that has caused a significant shift in the balance of power on Wall Street. In 1959, there were 660 brokers larger than DLJ. Shifting the Balance of Power on Wall Street Today, there's only one. Donaldson. Lufkin & Jenrcttc. Inc. 140 Broadway. New York, New York 10005. (212) 504-3000 An independently operated subsidiary of The Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States


BECAUSE WE HAVE GONE ON TRYING In our moment between past and future, a word of encouragement and caution.



ncrease Mather called it "the school of the prophets" and counted among its ancestral founders Adam and Moses. John Adams gave it legal immortality in the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, calling it "the Republic of Letters at Cambridge." Joseph McCarthy called it "the Kremlin on the Charles," while others, with particular reference to the School of Business Administration, have called it "the West Point of capitalism." Alfred Vellucci, sometime mayor of Cambridge, thinks of it as a menace, and Henry Rosovsky, speaking of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, calls it a "national treasure." No one is without an opinion about Harvard, and no opinion is neutral. For three hundred and fifty years Harvard has attracted to itself, seemingly with little effort, the praise of its friends and the censure of its critics, and has managed with equal ease to incorporate all of this into its own fecund mythology. And for two hundred years, at half-century intervals since 1836, Harvard's friends and critics have taken inventory of that mythology and, in doing so, have added to it. In 1736 Harvard was one hundred years old, the oldest collegiate corporate body in the English colonies. Little notice was paid to the anniversary, coming as it did two years after the long reign of President John Leverett and one year into the administration of President Benjamin Wadsworth. The 150th anniversary of the College, in 1786, during the presidency of Joseph Willard, also passed without significant commemoration. Harvard's bicentennial, however, was observed with due ceremony on September 8, 1836. It was of this celebration that Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote with such feeling about what he called the "anniversary" and the endless lines of 58


age and youth through which the moment passed. It was the celebration of 1836 that inspired President Josiah Quincy's two-volume history of the University, with its revisionist views of Harvard's secular origins and destinies. It was here as well that "Fair Harvard" wasfirstsung. By 1886 another celebration was in order, this with President Charles William Eliot in charge and President Grover Cleveland in attendance. Fifty years ago, three centuries of Harvard were celebrated with an academic festivity not before seen in the world. Indeed, the outside world was invited to attend the rites through select witnesses, and did so: the University of Cairo was its oldest academic delegate, and Poet Laureate of England John Mascfield was its most lyric. And now, after the Tercentenary, we have come to celebrate that for which there is no proper Latin name and is therefore simply known as the 350th, a sturdy and sensible New Englandism. If the bicentennial was essentially a festival for alumni, and the 250th in 1886 was an event of national significance, the 300th in 1936 was an international event, celebrating the remarkable diversity of the Harvard family. In 1986 the tone is one of "family" again, albeit with the world looking on and a royal cousin in attendance. In 1976 Harvard observed another anniversary, the "second bicentennial," as knowledgeable Cantabrigians called the celebration of two hundred years of American independence. It was at the Phi Beta Kappa celebrations on Commencement Tuesday of that year, after lunch had been completed under the gaze of the portraits and busts in Memorial Hall, that the Society's president, Thomas Boylston Adams, rose to propose a toast that went something like this: "Harvard salutes the nation on the occasion of the 200th birthday: wc have long watched this experiment with interest and wish it well." Few institutions in this country could get away with such presumption. But Harvard, after all, was one hundred and forty years oldâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;secure in its government and endowmentsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;when the shot heard round the world was fired by its mstic neighbors at Concord. When the nation celebrated its own century in 1876, two hundred and forty years had passed for Harvard, still doing business at the same old stand. A gesture that might be taken by some for courtesy can easily be seen by others as arrogance, and Harvard, for better or worse, is known more for Lionel Hall and Harvard Hall.

its arrogance than for its courtesy. " T h e President is in Washington calling on Mr. Taft" is the hoary Harvard anecdote known within and beyond the Yard as describing the perceived, if not the correct, relationship between the republic of letters at Cambridge and the republic.


e know all of this. Some pay vast sums of good money to be part of all of this. Others promise never to have anything to do with all of this. What embarrasses some, annoys others, and gives pleasure to manyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;this sense of Harvard's sense of its own importanceâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;is always with us, but never more so than when we pause at each semicentennial for an extended look at ourselves. "How many Harvard students does it take to change a light bulb?" goes a variation of that tired joke. "None," is the answer: "Harvard students glow in the dark." If "you can always tell a Harvard man . . . ," the same may be true for a Harvard joke, for both make assumptions about a public that itself claims a love-hate relationship with the University. Perhaps the greatest test of the staying power of an institution such as this one is not only its capacity to survive its own myths but its ability to survive its celebration of them as well: every fifty years is quite enough for this arduous exercise. Indeed, it may be simply a matter of survival. There was that wily political veteran of the French Revolution who, when asked what was his greatest accomplishment, replied, "1 survived." And then there is, of course, the famous Vicar of Bray who survived because, as was said in the country, he rode with the hounds and ran with the hares. When the Readers Digest interviewed some ancient lady who had reached the ripe age of one hundred, they asked her to what she attributed her old age. She replied, quite aptly, "Time." Perhaps survival is its own excuse, not simply for being, but for celebration as well. If this be so, Harvard need make no further claim nor pretension to excellence and relevance: time itself is its chief ally and sufficient cause for attention and celebration. Here it is, still intact, still in place, still doing what it was chosen to do. It has survived most of the monarchies of the

West, is older than all of the republics, has watched the progress of three royal houses in England, and was two hundred and eighty years old when the present British house was established. In a throw-away culture, where every venture, however tentative, is described as the "first annual," and where everyone in the nation from the President (the one in Washington, that is) onward generally attempts to look younger than his or her years, admitted and celebrated old age is something to take note of. Those signs of age, real and apparent, are all about us. To look in the Old Yard at the stand of brick that forms Stoughton and Mollis halls, with Holden Chapel in the middle, is to see eighteenth-century Harvard, largely unimproved. There, too, reside Harvard and Massachusetts halls, sage guardians of the entrance to the place. T h e nineteenth century is also present, perhaps rendered most elegantly in Bulfinch's University Hall, clad in chaste Chelmsford granite, both stern and serene, physical evidence of the College's claim to the dignity of a university. The factory-like Holworthy and Thayer; the mercantile monumentality of Matthews, Weld, and Grays; Boylston, a mansarded version of ein feste burg: there they all arc. The appearance of age is on every hand: President A. Lawrence Lowell's Georgian imagination; the freshman dormitories that enclose the Old Yard in imitation of nonexistent predecessors; the River Houses with their towers and domes, secular cathedrals, as it were, awaiting a Constable to paint them and a Henry Adams to interpret them. There is the Memorial Church, something of an eighteenth-century fantasy, of whose pristine spire and sturdy Doric columns, painted a sensible "rest room brown," Howard Mumford Jones was to have said, "atop, pure Emily Dickinson, below, pure Mae West." Widcncr Library makes no pretension to age, just imposing grandeur, an Alexandrine palace for books. Sever was intended to be new, or at least different, in its appeal to a Romanesque rather than a Palladian inspiration. But even this daring departure from the canon of domestic architecture contributes its bulk and mass to the sense of venerable stability that so describes the space in which we live, adding to the desired impression that Harvard is indeed older than the age of its parts. Fortunately for the mainte-


Matthews Hall with a corner of Gravs at left.

nance of that image of serene stability, the buildings cannot speak. They stand, growing more venerable by the day, and no testimony of theirs will ever contradict what the eye is meant to see. But after all has been said about the insufferable sense of Harvard stability and securityâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the recurring theme of its own sense of self-importanceâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;one need only look at the living monuments of the place, its graduates, to discover an equally persistent strain of self-criticism and abnegation. By far the most vigorous critics of the institution are those who have been in some measure most intimate with it and who, one would think, have reason to be the most grateful. William Bentinck-Smith, in his latest edition of The Harvard Hook, calls these critics "her solitary children." Henry Adams, of course, leads the list. Of his own education, Adams wrote: "Harvard College, as far as it educated at all, was a mild and liberal school, which sent young men into the world with all they needed to make respectable citizens, and something of what they wanted to make useful ones." T h e mild-tempered Unitarians who ran the place believed nothing in excess and communicated their passionless pieties to the students of Adams's generation. "Four years of Harvard College," said Adams, "if successful, resulted in an autobiographical blank, a mind on which only a water-mark had been stamped." Theodore Roosevelt was determined to shake Harvard men out of what was by his time well known as "Harvard indifference." In an address to the Harvard Union on February 23, 1907, T.R. said: "Above all, you college men, remember that 60


if your education, the pleasant lives you lead, make you too fastidious, too sensitive to take part in the rough hurly-burly of the actual work of the world, if you become so overcultivated, so overrefined that you cannot do the hard work of practical politics, then you had better never have been educated at all." Writing of Harvard's infamous indifference in the Nm England Quarterly in 1976, Joan Hedrick describes the founding of a club dedicated to the virtues of cultivated unconcern and called the Laodicean Club, after the New Testament Church of Laodicea, which was neither hot nor cold. According to Robert Morss Lovett, one of the founders, "it was the rule that if at any meeting a quorum should be present the club should ipso facto cease to exist. As a result the second meeting was the last." Roosevelt deplored what he saw as the stylized laziness of Harvard College students and weighed in against the cult of self-indulgence and indifference.


he more recent brand of criticism has been directed not so much at student excesses or styles but, in this less than self-critical age, at the institution itself. T h e student troubles of the late 1960s were, of course, not the first riots the College had seen; far more serious disruptions occurred over such things as food in the eighteenth century and student liberties in the early nineteenth century, culminating in the very serious disturbances of 1834, when the entire sophomore class was dismissed by President Quincv and sent packing. But the critical temper that found such vocal expression in the troubles of 1969 was

directed at the University per se, for failing to live up to the high expectations the students had of it. While there was a certain academic discontent throughout the universities of the Western world—none of which, save those in the United States, had the experience of the Vietnam War or the civil rights movement—the focus of criticism at Harvard and at other U.S. institutions was domestic. That is to say, the Universitywas not behaving as it ought in matters of importance to students. This conflict of expectations between the institution and its youngest members contributed mightily to the troubles of the day, but it also created new dimensions in the ongoing relationship of engagement and apathy in the University. T h e activism of the late Sixties and early Seventies was generally understood to be a deliberate attack on Harvard indifference, which at least since the secularization of the University in the eighteenth century had been the dominant tone. For many, this signaled the dawn of a new age, at Harvard as in the nation and the world. There would be anger, even disappointment, when it became clear that the new age was more often than not simply a commentary upon the old. In a curious way, those who invest the most in the Olympian myth of the University have the most to lose. Somehow, of all our institutions, only the university is expected, nearly universally, to do and be good, having long ago surpassed both church and state as a place of public confidence. T h e expectation of such virtue is as old as Harvard itself; it was the ambition of the founders to be, in their ecclesiastical jargon, the militia of Christ, an army for the reformation and redemption of the world—no small claim for what Samuel Eliot Morison and others would call a glorified prep school for God. Despite the transfer of that zeal from heavenly wisdom to earthly knowledge and a commitment to research rather than redemption, the sons and daughters of Harvard, and indeed of all higher learning in America, have placed in the university the confident high hopes—both private and corporate—that once were vested in the church and its sacraments. In the 1960s students were disappointed that Harvard was unwilling to reform itself in order to fulfill these expectations. Had Henry Adams taken his degree in 1986, he might have agreed with the closing paragraph of graduating senior Michael Hirschorn's Crimson piece, "The Cult of Mediocrity,'' in which, after an autobiographical account of bad and indifferent instruction in the College, the author calls his Harvard education "a big inside joke" and concludes: "1 will leave Harvard today full of that nostalgia that annually afflicts graduating seniors, but I will not feel truly educated. Anyone who feels otherwise has either been extremely lucky at Harvard or is just deceiving himself." The faculty for self-criticism is, and has long been, alive and well at Harvard. Confusion on this matter is somewhat understandable in that the most savage criticism often comes from within the family, but one must be in the family to make it. The parochial version of this phenomenon is that only Harvard people know enough to know what's wrong with Harvard, and that is why one can expect the harshest judgments to emerge from the lips and pens of its own: when Nelson Aldrich and Timothy Foote go public with an expose on Harvard, you know it's from the inside, the gossip is fresh, the sources real, the passions experienced. Watching undergraduates at football games would not give one the impression that introspection, let alone criticism, took place here, especially when they say to Yale, "You may win The Game, but you have to go back to New Haven," or to Army, "Someday you will work for us." But

the tenor of the past fifteen years—gleaned from numerous conversations and from what's fit to print in the student press-— suggests that for many of our students, and now younger alumni, criticism rather than imitation is the sincerest form of (lattery. Could it be that those paradoxical Puritan qualities of idealism and self-criticism, self-assurance and self-doubt, those founding passions of what David McCord calls that "godly but beleaguered lot," are alive and well in successive generations of

Of all our institutions, only the university is expected to do and be good. undergraduates? In the absence of the old theological, sociological, or even intellectual consensus, could it be that contrariness, creative or cussed, is the only consensus that remains? Perhaps it is so, as someone has observed, that where two or three Harvard graduates are gathered together, there are three or four opinions in the midst of them. If anniversaries of the sort we now are undergoing stimulate great binges of self-congratulation, they also provide a guaranteed antidote of selfcriticism and anxiety. The anxiety comes ftom a belief that the myth was once true but is no longer: standards are tailing; we aren't what we used to he. One expects this of the alumni; they in some measure depend upon annotated memories. Dean Willard Sperry, writing in the Harvard Alumni Bulletin in April 1947, squarely observed that the alumnus, unless uncommonly generous of mind and spirit, is apt to be a liability rather than an asset in the ongoing life of the institution: " T h e very reasons that endear the place to him and bring him back to his reunions make him cherish the college as it was in his time, not as he finds it now. There were great teachers in those days; he delights to remember them and to tell the well-worn tales about them. Today there are only pedants and specialists. T h e place has deteriorated." What's tendentious in prose is a little livelier in verse, especially that of Laurence McKinney, who in the Tercentenary graduates' issue of the Lampoon, wrote of the returning alumnus looking for George Lyman Kittredge, Charles Townsend Copcland, and Bliss Perry: I low many years? Why, it's over twenty, Wc have seen triumphs and treaties go, We have come back through want and plenty Looking for scenes that we used to know. Gone from the Yard is the Class Day fountain, The graduate gropes in a strange abyss. Seeking a landmark, a reckoning mountain, Hoping for Kitty or Copey or Bliss. But what of those who never knew the past? They can only imagine a golden age because the present one seems like so much brass. It's not that these critics do not believe in the Harvard myth; rather, they may believe in it too much. T h e present moment is always a season of discontent—even in festival years—because one is certain that the ideal either has been lost or is yet to be achieved. T h e past and the future remain the preserve of the real and genuine Harvard, while SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


BECAUSE WE HAVE GONE ON TRYING continwd the present is where things inevitably are less than they ought to be: as Alice is wont to complain, "Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but no jam today." And so at best, with expectations that were once believed to be normative but are now considered excessive, the contemporary denizen of a community of great expectations lives with either a sense of anxiety or a sense of betrayal. T h e college that nourished Ralph Waldo Emerson is also the college that silenced him. T h e college of W E . B . D u Bois is also the college that would not permit him to live in the Yard. T h e first president of Harvard was debarred for holding religious convictions contrary to the prevailing orthodoxy; the next president of Harvard would more likely be debarred for holding religious convictions of any sort contrary to the prevailing secular orthodoxy. T h e institution is never at rest, never in a state of repose, and this is probably what keeps it interesting and, indeed, alive. Perhaps at an anniversary, as at a birthday, Satchel Paige's advice is still the best: "Don't look back: the bastards may be gaining on you." Writing in 1932, T.S. Eliot observed that "one of the consequences . . . of our failure to grasp the proper relation of the Dunster House and the Weeks Bridge



Eternal and the Transient, is our over-estimation of the importance of our own time." We are still dominated by the doctrine of progress, he continued. "We ask whether any particular past age has done anything for us: if not, it is regarded as pure waste. T h e notion that a past age or civilization might be great in itself, precious in the eye of God, because it succeeded in adjusting the delicate relation of the Eternal and the Transient is completely alien to us. . . . [A] just perception of the permanent relations of the Enduring and the Changing should make us realize our own time in better proportion to times past and times to come. . . ." Eliot, of course, is not speaking of Harvard. He seldom spoke of Harvard. He is speaking of what constitutes a classic of literature or art and, in the art of criticism, asks the critic to allow the classic to speak in its own accents and in its own time. T h e observation, however, is worthy of an institution that on the eve of its 350th birthday many would regard as a classic. One can understand the temptation to the opposite, especially here in New England, where the histories of the most obscure towns in the Puritan cosmography began with

the creation itself and moved through the great ages and epochs of Western civilization as glorious prologue to the founding of North Hampton or Amesbury or New Wilton. Cotton Mather traced Harvard's descent from Adam through Moses and Joshua via Greece, Rome, Charlemagne's school at Aa-

We now know that ours is the age toward which all of history has been moving. chen, Oxford, Cambridge, and Geneva to divine fruition on the banks of the Charles. Those ages were important only insofar as they provided access to the present moment. History was an exercise in progressive revelation, and in Eliot's time we were living in the final and ultimate form of that revelation. We have learned much since that time. Wc now know that ours is the age toward which all of history, and all of Harvard history in particular, has been moving. Our historians and our presidents are given to patronizing the primitive past of the University, understandable though disagreeable little tunes, essential to but now happily subsumed by the present great symphonic sound. There is no past without its share of ambiguity, embarrassment, even error. The longer the past, the more likely it is that such discoveries, taken in our own accents and time, will embarrass us. Examples of this sort of thing were examined with an unforgiving eye in the June 1986 issue of the AW' England Monthly, in which .Michael Hirschorn—the same who regretted his inadequate Harvard education in the pages of the Commencement Crimson—had a piece entitled "What Do You Give a University That Has Everything? How About Six Pages of Cake in the Face?"; contained within the article were what the cover called "43 Mortifying Moments They'd Rather Forget." No birthday party is complete without the guest, invited or otherwise, who reminds you that you are not as young as you used to be or as good as you pretend to be. It is easy to be annoyed by these reminders of the institution's foibles, but one is truly annoyed only if one thinks the University is or ought to be perfect. There are Harvard people who doubtless are embarrassed by the Puritan zealots who founded the place, by the Yankee merchants who enriched it, by the Brahmin lawyers who ran it, and by all the imperfections of our culture and society reflected in the life and fabric of an institution old enough to have seen and done it all. T h e danger of "our over-estimation of the importance of our own time" is that in attempting to reconcile our history to our own experience and our own desires, wc will deprive ourselves of the full measure of our past, warts and all, and will be left only with the purity of our own intentions. All of us may not share equally in Harvard's past; pieties of even half a century ago, not to speak of three and a half centuries ago, are hardly ours without exception. But all of Harvard's past belongs to all of us; like the Boston lady and her hats, we have our past, and we cannot be disassociated from it any more than we can rearrange the branches of our own family trees. Despite appearances to the contrary, Eliot's appeal to classical integrity has a utilitarian dimension to it. An appreciation of the relationship between the transient and the

eternal "should . . . make us realize our own time in better proportion to times past and times to come. . . ." In all of this, there is something to be said (and Eliot has said it) for the moment, "standing in the living present, memory and hope between." One can take some satisfaction in the ideal and the achievement of excellence for which the name of Harvard is known the world around, and in knowing that the flaws are clear because the ambition is great. But it is not excellence alone that has shaped or preserved the University: Harvard was old and famous long before it was excellent. It is not simply the riches of the University, material and intellectual, that have preserved it and placed it in its position of present usefulness and potential. With all due respect to the achievements of the past and the ceaseless activity of the moment, what can be drawn from a history of enormous complexity and distinction is, rather, an attitude. Typical of the seventeenth-century Puritan identity, this attitude saw it as the human enterprise to put ordinary things to extraordinary use, and to do so faithfully and without ceasing, in good times and in bad, building for eternity a holy future worthy of a hopeful past. We may not take the language as our own, but if we allow ourselves, we just might be able to see our little moment in light of that continuity. As that lovely sundial now hidden from view on the southern side of Holden Chapel proclaims: "On this moment hangs all eternity."


ur founders believed that history was moral, that it taught lessons to those who would learn them, that revelation was the means to purpose, and purpose to lives worth living. No temple to abstract scholarship and private gain was this place, at least not in the imagination of its progenitors. Paying tribute to the chief of these at the unveiling of the John Harvard statue in 1884, President Eliot said: "He will teach that one disinterested deed of hope and faith may crown a brief and broken life with deathless fame. He will teach that the good which men do lives after, fructified and multiplied beyond all power of measurement or computation. He will teach that from the seed which he planted in loneliness, weakness, and sorrow, have sprung joy, strength, and energy every fresh, blooming year after year in this garden of learning, and flourishing more and more, as time goes on, in all fields of human activity-." Should this eulogy of John Harvard be only that—a memorial to a long-gone benefaction—there remains, perhaps for us and for our moment between the enduring and the transient, a word of encouragement and caution from the other Mr. Eliot, the poet: Here the past and future Are conquered, and reconciled. And right action is freedom

From past and future also. For most of us, this is the aim Never here to be realised; Who are only undefeated

Because we have gone on trying.


Peter J. Gomes, B.D. '68, is Plummer professor of Christian morals and minister in the Memorial Church. The woodcuts accompanying this article are from T h e Illustrated Harvard: Harvard University in Wood Engravings and Words, by Michael McCurdy, copyright © 1986, The Globe Pequot Press, Chester, Connecticut 06412. SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


Announcing the Perfect Christmas Gift...

THE RUMMELL PRINT OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY At the turn of the century, Richard Rummell (1848-1924), a well known artist of the era, created a limited series of hand engraved copper printing plates depicting a panoramic aerial perspective of some of the nation's most prestigious colleges and universities. Harvard University was among those selected. Prior to formulating his original artwork from the perspective of a hot air balloon suspended at an altitude of approximately 300 feet, Rummell would visit the campus to confer with administration officials. It was on such visits that he would seek information about future buildings planned for the campus. By including the projected buildings in the copper plate, Rummell would create the impression that the original artwork was completed perhaps ten years later. With construction projects occasionally being cancelled, Rummell's copper plates sometimes illustrate structures that were planned, but never actually constructed. This historically interesting reference is one of the reasons Rummell's works are so valued by collectors. About 1910, a limited number of sepia tone prints were hand pulled from Rummell's original hand etched copper plates. Shortly thereafter, Rummell's plates disappeared. The whereabouts of the plates .remained unknown for decades until one of the foremost authorities on old books, manuscripts, and prints discovered the Rummell plates. Special arrangements have been made for the original Rummell plate to be employed to produce hand pulled and hand colored prints in a limited issue. With full appreciation of the fragile nature of the original copper plate and the level of printmaking expertise required, Master Printmaker Robert Cale has been commissioned for the hand pulling of the prints. To ensure the fidelity of the original artwork and the permanency of the piece, only the finest French imported, 100 percent rag content paper will be utilized in the printmaking. Once pulled and inspected by the Master Printmaker, the individual colors on each print will be hand applied. The tedious and time consuming hand painting assures that no two finished prints will be alike. Each print will be double matted and fully museum mounted. Museum mounting is a conservation method that isolates the art in its own environment and protects it from any discoloration associated with the aging process. The print will be complemented by a solid hardwood frame specifically selected for this significant work. Seventeen hand operations go into producing each walnut finished frame. The frame will be hand-rubbed, accented with gold leaf and lacquered to a fine furniture finish. To allow immediate placement within the home, or office, picture hanging hardware will be included with each print. The outside frame dimensions are an impressive 24%" in height and 37lA" in width. Upon delivery, you must be absolutely satisfied with the fine quality, or you may return your print for a full refund. The original issue price of $225 is most favorable as prints of this nature are routinely acquired at galleries at $275 and more. Furthermore, the issue price includes all handling and insured shipping charges within the contiguous United States. Reservations may be placed by using the order form on the opposite page. American Express, MasterCard, and Visa orders may also be placed by dialing the toll free telephone numbers listed on the order form. Orders will be processed in the strict sequence that reservations are received with the earliest orders being assured Christinas delivery. Keeping in mind the time consuming nature of the print production, hand application of colors, and the strong demand for fine art etchings, your immediate consideration is encouraged.

Illustration reduced. outside frame dimensions are 24Y*" in height and 3 7 V in width.

Detach order form below. Mail orders should be sent lo Wayneco Fnterpriscs, Inc., P.O, Box 511, Wayne, PA 19097.

(Bemonal ^le&ertxitiafv ÂŁFomi I wish lo acquire the Rummell Print(s) of Harvard University hand pulled by Master Printmaker Robert Call- from the original copper plate. I understand that the i n dividual colors on each print will be hand applied. Each print is to be fully museum mounted, double matted and framed. I must be absolutely satisfied that it is a true print of fine quality, or I may return it for a full refund.

THE RUMMELL PRINT OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY MAIL ORDERS T O : W A Y N E C O ENTERPRISES, I N C . Post Office Box 511 Wayne, Pennsylvania 19087 NOTE: Earliest orders entered will be assured Christmas delivery.

Please accept my order for: Rummell Prinl(s) of Harvard University (HAR-YRP86) at $ 2 2 5 * each. QUANTITY 'Pennsylvania residents nnly, odd 6% state sales tax. I wish to pay for my prinl(s) as follows: n By a single remittance of S made payable to "Wayneco Enterprises", which 1 enclose,


U By charging the amount of S io my credit card indicated below. Full Account Number:








A HARVARD CHRONOLOGY A year-by-year progression, from the infant Colleges faltering start to a maturity the founders could hardly have imagined.

1636. Great and General Court of Massachusetts votes on October 28 to appropriate £400 for "a schoale or colledge." 1637. The College is ordered to be in "Newetowne" ( r e n a m e d C a m b r i d g e in 1638). . . . Board of twelve Overseers appoints Nathaniel Eaton, 27, Charlestown minister, as master. 1638. Class of a dozen students begins recitations. . . . John Harvard, minister and cattleman of Charlestown, dies at 30, leaving half his estate (almost £800) and a 400-book library to the College. . . .Jose Glover, minister and printer, dies en route to Boston; his widow sets up his printing press in Cambridge. 1639. General Court orders "that the colledge . . . shalbee called Harvard Colledge." . . . Dismissed for abusing his scholars, Master Eaton flees the country with part of the Harvard legacy. 1640. Henry Dunster, 30, a graduate of Magdalene College, Cambridge, is engaged as president. Academic life resumes after a year of inactivity. All classes—logic, mathematics, physics, a s t r o n o m y , Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, Syriac, rhetoric, and divinity—are taught by the president. . . . General Court grants Harvard revenues from the BostonCharlestown ferry. 1641. New England's economy collapses. Hugh Peter, Thomas Weld, and William Hibbcns sail to England seeking funds for colony and College. . . . President Dunster marries widow Glover; Harvard acquires her printing press. 1642. Nine students receive A.B.'s at first Commence66


is completed. . . . Through the United Colonies, New England families are urged to contribute a peck of wheat or a \ ,'.'*, V" VTV* shilling to maintain College fellowships and scholarships. 1645. Tutor Bulkley donates an orchard that will form a part of the Harvard Yard. 1646. First College statutes require scholars to read the Bible twice daily, repeat church sermons on demand, eschew the "Mother-toungue," and shun men leading "ungirt and dissolute" lives. 1647. Overseer John Eliot, "Apostle to the I n d i a n s , " preaches to "a great confluence of Indians [from] all parts" in the College Yard. 1648. No degrees awarded. 1649. Graduating class of five includes two future Har"Corn-Yard Rm" 1638: Goffe House ami Peyittree House vard presidents, John Rogers ("The Colledge"i stood where and Urian Oakes. Massachusetts Avenue is today. 1650. First charter, still in force, establishes the Corporament. Greek and Latin oration of the President and Feltions enliven a dinner for fifty lows of Harvard College and guests. provides for perpetual succes1643. Purpose of the Colsion, defining Harvard's purlege is stated in New Knglands pose as "the advancement of First Fruits: "To advance all good literature, artes and Learning and perpetuate it to Sciences." . . . Five Fellows posterity; dreading to leave an appointed in addition to Presiilliterate ministery to the dent and treasurer. . . . Overchurches." . . . Recent graduseers prohibit student tobaccoates John Bulkley and George taking unless authorized by Downing are appointed tutors. . . . In London, Thomas Weld obtains a gift of £100 (f/O- y>n.J&£. *L a. fift^ from Anne Radcliffe, Lady Mowlson, to endow a scholarship fund.* 1644. Old College, first building erected by Harvard, 'Weld remits the gift with the hope that the first scholarship holder will be his sun John. But when John is caught burglarizing his uncle's house in Cambridge, he is given a whipping by President Dunster and expelled.

fit &•"**«? &*{£ Design for College arms, adopted lr\> the Overseers in 1643.

the president, parents, and a "Physitian." 1651. "Brazil wood" sent to Harvard by settlers in the Bahamas fetches £124, underwriting the purchase of a second building (renamed "Goffe C o l l e g e " ) and a d j a c e n t cowyard. 1652. Graduating class consists of one scholar, Joseph Rowlandson. 1653. Tutor Wigglesworth reprimands an idle student for "playing musick." 1654. Unwilling to rescind his heretical stand that only adult believers should be baptized, President Dunster resigns. Charles Chauncy, 62, an English cleric educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, succeeds him. 1655. "Indian College" for twenty students is erected with funds from the English Society for Propagation of the Gospel in New England. 1656. Harvard accepts Galileo's arguments for solar system. 1657. Connecticut Governor Edward Hopkins bequeaths modest funds "for the breeding up of hopeful youth in the way of learning," payable after his wife's death. 1658. Two townsmen are fined 6s. 8d. each for "quarrelling and fighting with . . . students of Harvard College." College rules that students are not exempt from the police power of the town watch. 1659. Former president Dunster, now preaching at Plymouth, dies. 1660. In England, Overseer Hugh Peter is beheaded, drawn, and quartered as a regicide. 1661. Elnathan, Israel, and Nathaniel Chauncy become the fourth, fifth, and sixth of

A BAD B E G I N N I N G Nathaniel Eaton, Harvard's first master, drove lessons bad food to the scholars and denied them their beef and home with the rod, and was hauled into court for beating his beer. Dismissed, Eaton fled with part of the John Harvard assistant. An inquiry revealed that his wife had served legacy, and the College had to be closed for a year. SEPTEMBER-OCTTOBF.R 1986


A H A R V A R D C H R O N O L O G Y continued

President Chauncy's sons co take Harvard degrees. 1662. Activities of Harvard's printing press prompt General Court to establish book censorship in Massachusetts. 1663. Mock theses embody such metaphysical themes as "Universals are little stars, ever shining in themselves but invisible in the concrete." 1664. Town of Cambridge gives College thirty acres of land and three commons. 1665. Caleb Chccshahteaumuck, of Martha's Vineyard, is the first Native American to receive a Harvard degree. But because of scant interest. Harvard abandons "Indian College" experiment. 1666. Overseers require that paid Fellows reside in College and be present with scholars at mealtimes "so they may be better enabled to inspect the manners of the schollars." 1667. Overseers order upperclassmen to desist from "abuse" of sending freshmen on "private errands." 1668. Graduating class includes Abraham Picrson, first rector of future Yale College. 1669. Responding to "the loud groanes of the sinking colledg," citizens of Portsmouth, New H a m p s h i r e , pledge £60 per annum for seven years. 1670. William Pcnnoyer of London leaves 92-acre English farm in trust for I larvard; rents provide a new source of scholarship funds. 1671. Apprehensive about the condition of the Old College, authorities solicit subscriptions for construction of Harvard I [all.

1672. Governor John Winthrop gives Harvard its first t e l e s c o p e . . . . President Chauncv dies. Dr. Leonard

Hoar, A.B. 1650, M.D. Cambridge 1671, succeeds him. 1673. Students ridicule Hoar; tutors resign. General Court holds a hearing. 1674. Undergraduates desert in a body. . . . College publishes first listing of alumni (Sobolis HetvanBnae Calalogum). . . . Nathaniel Eaton, first master, dies in debtors' prison near John Harvard's old home in Southwark, England 1675. President Hoar resigns in despair; eight months later he dies, aged 45. Urian Oakes, A.B. 1649, minister of Cambridge, succeeds him. Oakes says the times arc "difficult and unfavorable indeed, in which lack of moderation imports much calamity to academic affairs." 1676. Royal Agent Edward Randolph reports that "Newcolledge [the first Harvard Hall], built at the publick charge, is a fair pile of brick building covered with tiles, by reason of the late Indian warrc not yet finished. It contains 20 chambers for students, two in a chamber; a large hall, which serves for a chappel; over that a convenient library. . . ." 1677. Harvard Hall succeeds Old College as central building. 1678. Bequest of £1,000 from Sir Matthew Holworthy, merchant-shipowner of London, most valuable gift yet received by the College. 1679. Thomas Brattle's observations with I larvard telescope arc favorably noticed by Newton. 1680. 'Pen students, smoking and drinking as if in a tavern, are unfavorably noticed bv Dutch travelers visiting College Hall. 1681. President Oakes dies, at 50, of a fever. 1682. John Rogers. A.B.

The Old College as it may have appealed about I66S, An ambitious building,

computed iu 1644. it deteriorated with a/arming rapidity.



1649, Ipswich medical practitioner, elected president. 1683. Cotton Mather, A.B. 1678, describes observations of Halley's Comet in his Boston Ephemera, 1684. President Rogers contracts a sudden illness and dies during an eclipse of the sun. 1685. Increase Mather, minister of the Second Church in Boston, b e c o m e s acting president. 1 6 8 6 . Mather's title is changed to rector; William Brattle and John Lcvcrett,

Increase Mather, sixth president (16X5-1701). both A.B. 1680, are named tutors and resident Pel lows. 1687. College's financial state improves. 1688. Mather sails for England on a lengthy political mission, leaving Harvard in the hands of Brattle and Leverett. 1689. Mather encourages a legacy of £500 from Robert 'Phonier, an English dissenter. 1690. Cotton Mather becomes a Fellow of the College. 1691. Tutor Brattle endears himself to students by "ministering . . . to their souls and bodies" during smallpox epidemic. 1692. Back from England, Increase Mather assumes presidency but devotes himself primarily to his Boston ministry. . . . Harvard awards America's first degrees in divinity to Mather. Brattle, and Leverett. . . . The Reverend George Burroughs, A.B. 1670, is convicted of witchcraft bv Judges Sewall (A.B. 1671) and Stoughton (A.B. 1650) and is hanged at Gallows Hill, Salem. 1693. Thomas Brattle, A.B. 1676, brother of William, appointed treasurer . . . Presi-

dent Mather cracks down on spirituous plum cakes: "If any Schollar shall offend therein, the Cakes Shall be taken from him, and he shall moreover pay to the Colledge twenty shillings for each such offenc." 1694. Fanned by Salem's witchcraft trials. Increase and Cotton Mathet, under Harvard auspices, invite reports of "appatitions, possessions, enchantments and all extraordinary things, wherein the existence and agency of the invisible world are more sensibly demonstrated." 1695. Corporation votes that six leather chairs be "provided for the use of the library. and six more before the Commencement, in case the treasury will allow of it." 1 6 9 6 . College c h a r t e r exempts president. Fellows, scholars, steward, cook, and one servant from civil and military services, but not from taxes. 1697. Tutors Brattle and Leverett take wives and are required to relinquish their Fellowships. Bight new Fellows appointed. 1 6 9 8 . "Indian College" pulled down. 1699. Stoughton College constructed with bricks from Indian College and a £1,000 gift from Lieutenant Governor William Stoughton. 1700. Five new Fellows appointed. One is tutor Henry Flynt, A.B. 1695, a legendary figure and diarist who will serve for sixty years. 1701. Required by the General Court to reside in Cambridge or resign the presidency of Harvard, Increase Mather complies for six months, then returns to Boston. Vice President Samuel Willard assumes Mather's duties, maintaining his Boston residence. . . . 1 larvard graduates in Connecticut found the "Collegiate School." 1702. Joseph Dudley, A.B. 1665, appointed governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony. His administration battles the General Court for thirteen years. 1703. William Brattle readmitted as a Fellow; brother Thomas also appointed. 1704. Corporation votes that the three College tutors shall

ONE HARVARD MAN HELPS HANG ANOTHER The Reverend George Burroughs, A.B. 1670, an unorthodox minister, was condemned to the gallows during the Salem witch hunts. His executioners hesitated when Burroughs

recited the L o r d s Prayer, hut they went on with their work when Cotton Mather, A.B. 1678, rode up shouting that "(lie Devil has often heen transformed into an Angel of Light." SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 19Kf>


A HARVARD CHRONOLOGY continued share a salary of £120, Mr. Flynt receiving £6 more than the others, "he having the care of two classes." 1705. Graduating class of eleven scholars includes Edward Holyokc, future Harvard tutor, librarian, Fellow, and president. 1706. Corporation orders a pew for the president's family "in the meeting house now a building," and votes £6 to John Gore, A.B. 1702, "for his service as Library-Keeper." 1707. In a farewell to the graduating class, Tutor Remington exhorts them to "Beware of Drinking and Card Playing. These make the Colledge stink." . . . John Lcverctt readmitted as Fellow. . . . In failing health, Vice President Willard resigns. Passing over Cotton Mather—still chagrined at his father's ouster— Corporation elects Leverett president. The Mathers are incensed. 1708. Leverett, first layman to head the College, is inaugurated. Soon after, he is ordained.

the insufficiency of his salary. 1712. Spencer Orchard, north of old Harvard Hall, is reserved as a recreation ground fot students. 1713. Cotton Mather becomes first native-born American elected to the Royal Society. 1714. John White, A.B. 1685, is appointed treasurer. Governor Dudley, who had wanted his son William to have the position, has a fallingout with President Leverett. 1715. After a long legal squabble, Harvard secures a portion of the 1657 Hopkins legacy.* 1716. Corporation orders that "no Tutor or Fellow of dieHouse, now or henceforth to be chosen, shall hold a Fellowship, with salary, for more than thtee years, except continued bv election.'"

Tutor Flynt, for sixty years a Fellow of the College, was acting president in 1736-37.

'The Great liverett," seventh president(1708-1724}, 1709. Three candidates for the second degree in the Collegiate School at Connecticut ask to receive their M.A.'s at Harvard's Commencement. Corporation decides this is inadvisable. 1710. General Court discovers that a 1697 bequest of £45 a year to Harvard for the education of Indians has never been paid. College settles for £90 a year for six years and £45 annually thereafter. 1711. President Leverett asks General Court to remedy 70


1717. President's diary- notes pervasiveness of "profane swearing," "riotous actions," and "bringing Cards into the College." 1718. Denied his A.M. for "insulting the Government of the College," Fbenezer Pierpont, A.B. 1715, sues Tutor Sever for libel. T h e suit, which divides the Harvard family, is q u a s h e d in court. . . . Cotton Mather, ever fonder of the "dear infant" in Connecticut, suggests the Collegiate School be renamed for a benefactor, Flihu Yale. 1719. "Society of Young Students" is formed "to meet together for the worship of God"; founding of the Mock •Still in existence, it is now North America's oldest continuous charitable trust.

Club, composed of "Persons Rawbon'd, humpback'd and Monophthalmic." 1720. Massachusetts Hall, built at the public charge to help accommodate rising enrollment, is completed at a cost of £3,500.** 1721. Thomas Hollis, merchant of London, endows Harvard's first professorial chair. Edward Wigglesworth, A.B. 1710, is named Mollis professor of divinity. . . . Cotton and Increase Mather encourage experimentation with inoculation against smallpox. . . . First College periodical, The TellTale, appears. 1722. Judah Monis, A.M. 1720, an Italian Jew, converts to Christianity at a public ceremony in the College Hall and is appointed Instructor of the Hebrew Language. 1723. After a formal visitation, Overseers denounce und e r g r a d u a t e s ' n e g l e c t of studies, promiscuous reading, and "stealing, lying, swearing, idleness, picking of locks, and too frequent use of strong drink . . . notwithstanding the faithful endeavours of the rulers of the House to suppress them." 1724. President Leverett dies suddenly at 61 and is eulogized for his "sweetness and candor. . . tempered by convenient severity." 1725. Benjamin Wadsworth, A.B. 1690, minister of the First Church of Boston, succeeds Leverett. Cotton Mather, snubbed once more, huffs that "the Corporation of our m i s e r a b l e Co 11 e d g e do again . . . treat me with their accustomed indignity." 1726. Work on a President's House, begun after the General Court votes £1,000 toward its consttuction, falters as funds run out. The Court recommends the house be finished "with all convenient speed and frugality" but lets C o l l e g e pay for a £ 4 5 0 overrun. 1727. Wadsworth House completed. . . . Thomas Hol•*Thc Overseers had petitioned the General Court that "the numbers of the Sons of the Prophets arc now so incrcas'd, that the place where they were wont to dwell is become so straight."

lis endows a second professorship. 1728. Isaac Greenwood, A.B. 1685, named Hollis professor of mathematics and natural philosophy. . . . Cotton Mather dies. 1729. Greenwoods Arithmetic!: is the first mathematics text by an American to be published in the colonies. 1730. Mary Saltonstall, widow of Gurdon Saltonstall, A.B.



• ) -//e//,;A/ '~V/iRevere View of Harvard, 1767. 1684, governor of Connecticut, leaves Harvard a legacy of £1,000. 1731. Death of benefactor Thomas Hollis. . . . Bishop Berkeley visits Harvard and presents Latin and Greek classics to the library. 1732. Visiting committee of Overseers recommends that students and graduates be prevented "from using punch, flip and like intoxicating drinks," and "that Commons be of better quality, have more variety, clean table-cloths . . . and that plates be allowed." 1733. Dorothy Saltonstall bequeaths £300 for the benefit of two poor scholars. 1734. Thomas Picrpont, M.A., is given a month to leave his College chamber for cutting prayers and saying the

College laws are "not fit for a dog." 1735. Monsieur I'Angloiserie, teacher of French, has visions and claims divine inspiration. Overseers cannot substantiate charges of "dangerous [religious] errors" against him, but forbid students "to attend upon his instruction." . . . Commencement takes place in a hall "so prodigiously crowded . . . that the Galleries

denounces the College as a house of impiety and sin. . . . Samuel Adams graduates. 1741. Thomas Hutchinson, A.B. 1727, future royal governor, secures £400 from the widow of Samuel Holden, a prominent English dissenter, to construct a chapel. 1742. Tutor Nathan Prince, A.B. 1718, removed for "several great misdemeanours," e.g., drunkenness.

were in danger of falling; and several Persons . . . jumped out at the Windows." 1736. Harvard begins its second century without fanfare, having conferred degrees on 1,248 scholars in its first hundred years. 1737. President Wadsworth dies; after much debate, Edward Holyoke, A.B. 1705, is elected to succeed him. Commencement psalm, "Give Ear My Children," sung for first time at inauguration. 1738. Isaac Greenwood removed from Hollis professorship for "intemperance." 1739. John Winthrop, A.B. 1732, "father of seismology," assumes Hollis professorship. 1740. Evangelist George Whitefield preaches at Harvard. He is not reinvitcd and

1743. Theologian Charles Chauncy, A.B. 1721, declares that in his twenty years' experience as an Overseer, the College was never "under better circumstances in point of religion, good order and learning than at this day." 1744. Holden Chapel completed. . . . Colin Campbell of Jamaica donates mathematical apparatus and underwrites repairs to the College's astronomical quadrant. . . . Senior Jedediah Foster, a future justice of the Supreme Judicial Court, is degraded four places and fined five shillings for setting off squibs in the Yard and "most obstinately persisting in lying about it." 1745. College leaders decry evangelical excesses of the Great Awakening. President

Holyoke admonishes George Whitefield: "The furious zeal with which you had so fired the passions of the people hath, in many places, burnt up the very vitals of religion. . . ." 1746. Hollis Professor John Winthrop delivers first lecture-demonstrations on electricity. 1747. A bill to impose Calvinism on Harvard is talked of, but comes to nothing. 1748. Graduation of Artemas Ward, who will become Harvard's most distinguished colonial soldier. 1749. College now ranks students by presumed official or social standing of their parents. 1750. Samuel Jordan, who "behaved himself with great Insolence in resisting one of the Tutors attempting to box him for singing in his Chamber in Studying time," graduates. (Five years later the boxing law is suspended). 1751. C o m m e n c e m e n t Quacstiones show progressive tendencies and include such subjects in political theory as, "Does Civil Government originate from Compact?" 1752. Students sent home and C o m m e n c e m e n t cancelled when smallpox breaks out in Cambridge. 1753. Benjamin Franklin awarded honorary A.M. 1754. John Hancock receives A.B. 1755. Future U.S. president John Adams takes his A.B. . . . Earthquake damages Stoughton College. 1756. Overseers desirous of raising the standard of elocution vote "that the usual declamations in the Chapel should

be laid aside, and in their stead the President should select some ingenious dialogue, either from Erasmus's Colloquies, or from some other polite Latin author," so that students may impersonate and translate parts. 1757. Overseers are displeased that many students prefer to board at private homes because of unsatisfactory food in commons. 1758. Plays performed by undergraduates in College Hall include Farquhar's The Recruiting Officer and Addison's Cato. 1759. Overseers recommend repeal of "the Law proh i b i t i n g the d r i n k i n g of Punch." 1760. Faculty allows students to attend newly built Christ Church, first Episcopal church in Cambridge. . . . Corporation forbids dancing in Commencement week "either in t h e C o l l e g e - H a l l or Chapel." 1761. College is so crowded that more than ninety students must lodge in town; Governing Boards petition provincial government to provide a new residential building. . . . General Court appropriates £2,500 for it. 1762. Undergraduates perform scene from Terence before O v e r s e e r s ' v i s i t i n g committee. 1763. Timothy Pickering, future senator and secretary of state, receives A.B. 1764. Hollis Hall, built at public expense for £2,500, is dedicated by Governor Bernard. . . . During a raging snowstorm, Old Harvard Hall burns down; most of the ColOld Harvard Halt, built in 1677, burned in 1764.





A H A R V A R D CI [ R O N O L O G Y continued lege library, portraits, scientific apparatus, and collections arc lost. President Holyoke, 75 and coatless, directs rescue activities. . . .ThomasHancock, uncle of John, leaves £100 for professorship of Hebrew and other Oriental languages. 1765. "Scholars punished at College for acting over the great and last day in a very shocking manner, personating the Devil, etc." . . . Faculty breaks up horse races held by students on the common. 1766. i'"irsr food rebellion begins when Asa Dunbar '67—grandfather of Henry Thoreau—tells Tutor Belcher I lancock, "Our butter stinketh." . . . New Harvard Hall completed. . . . Professorjohn Winthrop elected to Royal Societv.


Had butter gaveriseto the Rebellion of I160. 1767. llolyokc's administration reforms ancient system of each tutor's taking a class through all subjects in the curriculum; the four tutors now specialize respectively in Latin; Greek; logic, metaphysics, and ethics; natural philosophy, mathematics, geography, and astronomy. 1768. First record of "liberty tree" or "rebellion elm" in the Yard; seniors threaten to go to Yale if their rights are not respected. 1769. President Holyoke dies. 1770. Samuel Locke, A.B. 1755, a country cleric from Shcrborn, is elected president. . . . Speaking Club formed. 1771. Largest graduating class before the Revolution, numbering 63. . . . Nicholas B o y l s t o n wills H a r v a r d "£1,500 lawful money" for professorship of rhetoric and orator,'. 72


Hoi lis Professorjohn Wint/irop, the first of Harvard's great scientists. 1772. Judge lnman lays on lavish entertainment for hundreds of guests at his Cambridge mansion in honor of his graduating son, George. 1773. John Hancock, A.B. 1754, appointed treasurer. . . . Harvard's first LL.D. awarded to P r o f e s s o r J o h n Winthrop. . . . President Locke resigns unexpectedly. Winthrop becomes acting president.* 1774. Protesting coercive acts of Parliament, Corporation votes "that there be no public Commencement." . . . Samuel Langdon, A.B. 1740, elected president. . . . Revolutionary mob terrorizes "Tory Row" (Brattle Street). 1775. Revolutionary troops lodge in College buildings. Scholars reassemble at Concord for the 1775-76 year. 1776. British evacuate Boston; Harvard awards LL.D. to General George Washington. . . . Harvard signers of the Declaration of Independence include Samuel Adams, John Adams, Elbridge Gerry, and Robert Treat Paine (Massachusetts); William Ellerv (Rhode Island); William Williams (Connecticut); and William H o o p e r ( N o r t h

With College accounts in disarray, Treasurer John Hancock grudgingly yields his office to Ebcnczer Storcr. A.B. 1747. 1778. Shortage of textbooks is so acute that Harvard petitions the state for license to plunder sequestered Tory libraries. 1779. Corporation authorizes treasurer to invest all currency received as income or principal in Continental loan certificates or state treasury notes. . . . John Winthrop dies. 1780. New state constitution recognizes Harvard as a university. . . . The Reverend Samuel Williams, A.B. 1761, Hollis professor of mathematics and natural philosophy, crosses British lines to view solar eclipse from Penobscot Bay, Maine, and makes first report of optical phenomenon known as " B a i l y ' s B e a d s . " . . . Stoughton College, last seventeenth-century building, demolished. . . . Students petition to turn out Samuel Langdon: "As a President, we despise vou." He resigns. 1781. Joseph Willard. A.B. 1765, minister and scientist, becomes president. . . . Phi Beta Kappa, founded at William and Mary, charters second chapter at Harvard. . . . First public Commencement since 1774. Charles Bulfinch, future designer of Stoughton and University Halls, receives A.B. 1782. Medical School founded. 1783. Medical School opens, using Holden Chapel for lectures. . . . Honorary degree to Dr. Edward Holyoke, A.B. 1746, son of Harvard's

ninth president, makes him Harvard's first M.D. 1784. Marquis de Lafayette awarded an LL.D. 1785. Pioneer aeronaut Dr. John Jeffries, A.B. 1763, crosses English Channel by balloon. . . . Former Treasurer John Hancock, now governor, renders eight years' overdue accounts and concedes a balance due of £1,054. 1786. President Willard bans wearing of silk or silver lace, prescribes wearing of uniform blue-gray coats, and enc o u r a g e s r e g u l a r use of academic gowns. 1787. John Quincy Adams, future U.S. president, takes his A.B. 1788. First two medical graduates, John Fleet and George Holmes Hall, receive M.B. degrees. . . . Professor Eliphalet Pearson notes in his Journal of Disorder, "Bisket, tea cups, saucers and a KNIFE thrown at the tutors." . . .Successful lottery to purchase Joseph Pope's Orrery (astronomical model) for £450. 1789. George Washington revisits Harvard as president of the United States. 1790. College Laws—now regularly revised and printed in English—include prohibition against wearing women's apparel. 1791. Concerned over Harvard's economic tribulations. General Court votes against making grants to College officers. . . . Seniors and juniors protesting newly required annual public examination put 600 grains of tartar emetic in kitchen boilers on the morning of the test, causing all but four

Carolina). 1777. British troops under General Burgoyne occupy Cambridge. Students are sent home for three months. . . . *Thc publication, 150 years later, of the diary of President Ezra Stiles of Yale revealed that President Locke, a bachelor, was responsible for the pregnancy of a maidservant.

Therightstuff: John Jeffries, physician and pioneer airman.

The wrong stuff: John Hancock, irresponsible treasurer.

WORDS TO THE WISE Edward Holyoke (1689-1769) held the presidency at a more advanced age than any predecessor or successor. Holyoke died in office, after a long siege of illness,

just before his eightieth birthday. "If any man wishes to be humbled and mortified," he declared on his deathbed, "let him become President of Harvard College." SEI>TKMBKR-OCTOBF.R 1986


A H A R V A R D C H R O N O L O G Y continued

or five officers and students to rush from the Hall during breakfast. . . . Porcellian Club founded. 1792. First lay Fellow, James Bowdoin, A.B. 1771, is elected to Corporation. . . . Samuel Adams receives LL.D. 1793. John Hancock dies without having repaid his ÂŁ1,054 debt to Harvard. 1794. I larvard holds lottery to help build StOUghton Hall. 1795. Hasty Pudding Club formed. 1796. Rainy Commencement. 1797. John Collins Warren, future pioneer in surgery, receives A.B. 1798. Fine for eating out of commons raised to 20 cents. 1799. Corporation attempts to make peace between Federalists and Republicans by suggesting that honorary degrees be awarded to men from each parr.-. 1800. LL.D. awarded to John Nichols in appreciation of his gifts of "Calculi, diseased Bones and Anatomical copper plates" belonging to his lather, late professor of anatomv at Oxford. 1801. Benjamin Peirce, future librarian and historian of the College, graduates. 1802. Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, professor of physic at the Medical School, sends smallpox-infected threads to Monticello, where President Jefferson vaccinates family and servants. 1803. Admission standards raised; candidates arc expected to pass examinations in Greek and Latin and to be

Cambridge's firs/ Episcopal church (ink ami wa/crcolor 6y Samuel Farrar. 1793).


proficient in arithmetic and geographv. 1804. President Willard dies. Eliphalet Pearson, A.B. 1773, professor of Hebrew, is acting president for two vears. 1805. Stoughton Hall built, partly from funds raised by lottery. . . . Subscription raised to establish Botanic Garden and professorship of natural history. 1806. The Reverend Samuel Webber, A.B. 1784, Mollis professor of mathematics and a man "without friends or ene m i e s , " is elected president. . . . John Quincy Adams appointed first Boylston professor of rhetoric and oratory. 1807. Treasurer Storer retires after serving thirty years without pay. . . . Annual tuition is $20. 1808. A student orchestra, t h e P i e r i a n S o d a l i t y , is organized. 1809. A Southern father protests to President Webber: "John writes to me of the brilliance of Mrs. Apthorpcs Ball, Mrs. Otis's Parties, etc. This is all wrong, and these Bovs must not be permitted to have any engagements but with their Books." 1810. President Webber dies and is succeeded by the Reverend John Thornton Kirkland, A.B. 1789. . . . Board of Overseers reorganized, elective members introduced. . . . Medical School moves to Boston. 1811. T h e Washington Corps is organized, drilling twice weekly and parading on Cambridge Common at least four times a vear. 1812. Holworthy Hall built, funded by lottery. . . . Elbridge Gerry, A.B. 1762, elected vice president of the United States. . . . Harvard men play little part in War of 1812, New England sentiment being stronglv against it. 1 8 1 3 . M e d i c a l School awards twelve diplomas. 1814. Boston merchant Samuel Eliot (grandfather of future president Charles William Eliot) endows a chair in Greek literature, which goes to the Reverend Edward Everett, A.B. 1811, future president of Harvard. . . . College choir organized for chapel in

fS36: Alumni /moping to /he bicentennial pavilion. lion that breaks most of I Ian ard's crockery and many heads. . . . Graduating class numbers 81, high-water mark until 1852. 1819. Edward Tyrrel Channing becomes Boylston professor of rhetoric and oratory. 1820. Law School's initial class graduates. 1821. On graduation day a senior makes the following toast at Porter's Tavern: "The bonds of friendship, which always tighten when they are wet." . . . Ralph Waldo Emerson graduates. 1822. Required student dress includes Oxford gray coats with "skirts reaching to the bend of the knee" and a great-coat "with not more than two capes." 1823. A "Great Rebellion" by an uncommonly rowdy class given to forbidden dinners, battles in commons, bonfires and explosions in the Yard, cannonballs dropped from upper windows, choruses of "scraping" that drown tutors' voices in classroom and chapel, and plots that result in drenching persons with buckGeorge Ticknor, pioneer teacher ets of ink and water. Just beof Modern languages. fore Commencement, 43 of 70 seniors are expelled; 25 are 1818. Sunday night in comeventually reinstated. mons: " . . . Nathan threw a 1824. Lafayette revisits piece of bread, and hit Abijah Haivard. . . . Notorious secret on the head./The wrathful society Med. Fac. sends mock Freshman, in a trice, sent back another, bigger slice"; thus bediploma to Emperor Alexander gins an undergraduate rebel1 of Russia, who reciprocates

University Hall (present Faculty Room). . . . Full cost of Harvard education is $200 a year; President Kirkland initiates new financial-aid plan. 1 8 1 5 . U n i v e r s i t y Hall built. . . . College Library in Harvard Hall numbers nearly 20,000 volumes. 1816. Divinity School founded. . . . Nathaniel Bowditch, mathematician and astronomer, receives LL.D. 1817. Isaac Parker, Royall professor of law, submits proposal for Law School. . . . George Ticknor, pioneer in teaching of modern languages, appointed professor.

with gift of s u r g i c a l instruments. 1825. Academic reforms include institution of departments within the College, requirement that president present an annual report to the Overseers, and rearrangement of vacation schedule on the theory that warm weather produces rioting. 1826. Divinity Hall built . . . Practical navigator Nathaniel Bowditch, a selfmade man who did not attend college, is elected to the Corporation. 1827. Bowditch investigates Harvard's financial state. lie

John Thornton Kailantl.

bdeagptend president. finds President Kirkland's academic commitments overextended and Treasurer Davis's accounts in disarray. Davis is forced out, faculty and presidential salaries are cut, and students arc required to pay

for sacramental wine used in chapel. . . . Kirkland suffers paralytic stroke. 1828. Still under fire from Bowditch, President Kirkland resigns, much beloved by students. . . . Corporation implements fiscal reforms to wipe out Colleges annual deficit and lay the foundation for "a p r o s p e r o u s s t a t e of its finances." 1829. Josiah Quincy, A.B. 1790, is elected president. A lawyer who had been the reform mayor of Boston, he is the first nonclcrgyman to hold the position since President Levcrett took office in 1708. 1830. Charles Sumner graduates. 1831. Fellow Francis Gray reports in a pamphlet that of fourteen members of the teaching and administrative staff, six are Unitarians, three Roman Catholics, and one each Calvinist, Lutheran, Episcopalian, Quaker, and Sandemanian. 1832. Dane I [all becomes home of the Law School. 1833. College receives its final grant from the Commonwealth. . . . President Andrew Jackson is awarded an LL.D. at Commencement. . . . Publication of History of Harvard University by the late Benjamin Peirce, former librarian. . . . Benjamin Peirce, A.B. 1829, appointed professor of mathematics; helps establish Observatory and Smithsonian. . . . John Lovett (John the Orangeman), most famous of 1 larvard characters, born in County Kerry. 1 8 3 4 . M e d . Fac. s u p pressed. . . . Undergraduate revolt begins when a freshman refuses to recite in Greek. President Quincy dismisses the entire sophomore class. 1835. Professor Ticknor complains that his modern languages department is the only one to implement the elective system. 1836. "Centennial Celebration" held September 8: large pavilion wreathed with evergreens and Mowers; streamers of blue and white floating down from the top of the tent. . . . "Fair Harvard" is sung for the first time, and the Veritas arms rediscovered.

1837. Emerson's Phi Beta Kappa Oration, "The American Scholar," calls for independence from European cultural leadership. . . . Henry David Thoreau graduates. 1838. Emerson's Divinity School address is an eloquent, devastating critique of all organized religion. . . . Class Day becomes such an orgy that President Quincy warns the graduating class to abstain from punch and dancing or

President Josiah Quincy. stern disciplinarian. lose their degrees. . . . Jared Sparks, first to teach history as an academic discipline, assumes new McLean professorship of ancient and modern history. 1839. Construction begins on Gore Hall, future College library. 1840. Harvard Alumni Association is founded on Commencement Day. . . . Public transportation to Boston consists of a coach with eleven

places, leaving two or three times daily. 1841. College Library, now 41,000 volumes, transferred to Gore Hall. 1842. America's leading botanist, Asa Gray, becomes Fisher professor of natural history and begins to build Herbarium and Botanical Library. 1843. Small gymnasium provided for students—first official recognition of the importance of physical exercise. . . . Astronomical observatory founded by subscription. . . . Professor O.VV. Holmes, A.B. 1829, M.D. 1836, publishes essay on the contagiousness of childbed fever, proposing antiseptic measures to eliminate it. 1844. Hasty7 Pudding pres e n t s first t h e a t r i c a l s in Stoughton Hall. . . . First Harvard boat club formed. 1845. Over the protests of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Smith professor of the French and Spanish languages and literatures, no student is allowed to study more than one modern language. . . . President Quincy resigns, aged 74. 1846. Edward E v e r e t t , A.B. 1811—Unitarian minister, former congressman, Mass a c h u s e t t s governor, and minister to Great Britain—accepts presidency "reluctantly, and with great misgivings." . . . "Gentlemen, this is no humbug!" Dr. John Collins Warren. A.B. 1797, former

A lalbotype of Gore Hall: the earliest original Hazard photograph (1344). SEI-TKMBHR-OCTOHER 1986



MURDKR AT THE MEDICAL SCHOOL Harvard's gravest scandal occurred when parts of a body were discovered in the laboratory of Dr. John While Webster, chemist and mineralogist. Among the remains were false teeth, later identified as those of Dr. George 76


Parkman, Webster's relentless creditor. Webster was charged with bludgeoning Parkman to death, dismembering tlie body, and incinerating most of it in the furnace of his laboratory. He was hanged for the crime in 1850.

dean of the Medical School, demonstrates die use of ether as an anaesthetic. . . . A 22foot-long mastodon skeleton is presented to Harvard by a group organized by Dr. John White Webster of the Medical .School. . . . Charles Eliot Norton graduates.

1850. Medical School Professor John White Webster hangs for the murder of Dr. George Parkman. . . . Lawrence Hall completed. 1851. First bachelor of science degrees awarded. 1852. At Lake Winnipesaukee, Harvard crew beats Yale by four lengths in first U.S. intercollegiate athletic event. 1853. President Sparks resigns, citing "a precarious state of health" and noting that "order and tranquillity' prevail in all departments." He is succeeded bv Professor James Walker, A.B. 1814, a member

of the Corporation. . . . Future The "Cambridge Mastodon, now at the Museum of Comparative '/.oology. 1847. New fifteen-inch telescope, one of two in the world, installed under a thirty-foot d o m e on O b s e r v a t o r y grounds. Director William Cranch Bond reports astonishing discoveries. . . . Louis Agassiz appointed professor of zoology and geology on his arrival from Switzerland. . . . Abbott Lawrence donates $50,000 to establish Lawrence Scientific School. 1848. Only one student expulsion in this year of worldwide revolutionary fervor. . . . Describing himself as "the sub-master of an ill-disciplined school" President Everett tesigns. 1849. Professor Jared Sparks, A.B. 1815, Unitarian minister and historian, becomes president.

president Charles William Eliot graduates. 1854. Enrollment of Southern students at high-water mark: almost a third of the student body. . . . Original Harvard Magazine appears. 1855. Value of endowment exceeds $1 million. . . . James Russell Lowell, A.B. 1838, LL.B. 1840, named professor of modern languages. . . .College's first gas lighting installed in Holworthy Hall. . . . Evening prayers discontinued. . . . Phillips Brooks graduates. 1856. First course in music. 1857. Bluebooks and final examinations introduced. . . . Fraternities abolished by faculty. . . . Nucleus of College art collection formed. 1 8 5 8 . Glee C l u b organized . . . Bequest from Francis Galley Gray, A.B. 1809, founds Museum of Comparative Zoology. . . . Boylston Hull and Appleton Chapel completed. . . . Tutor Charles W. Eliot buys red headbands for his I larvard crew, winners of the Charles River championship; first use of a Harvard color. 1859. President Walker resigns.

Shooting die moon: From a stenographic negative made at Harvard* Observatory by John Adams Whipple (I860). height. . . . Most Southerners leave during winter vacation, never to return. 1861. Harvard Cadets drill on the Delta, for a time under the command of Assistant Professor Charles W. Eliot. . . . Lieutenant Horace S. Dunn '63, first undergraduate to lose his life in the Civil War, dies of typhoid. 1862. President Felton dies of a heart ailment. The Reverend Thomus Hill, A.B. 1843, Unitarian minister and president of Antioch College, is elected president, pledging to make Harvard "an American university in the highest and best sense." . . . John Stuurt Mill receives LL.D.

1863. Harvard's first baseball team, organized by former Exeter students in 1862, beats Brown 27-17. . . . First water taps installed in Grays Hall basement. 1864. Robert Todd Lincoln, son of t h e p r e s i d e n t , graduates. 1865. Civil War ends: Of 1,311 undergraduates and alumni who fought for the North, 138 died, while 64 of 257 died for the Confederacy. . . . Samuel Hooper's gift of'$50,000 endows chairs of geology and mining. . . . Act of April 28, 1865, separates government of the University from that of the Commonwealth and provides for popular election of Overseers by degree-holders on Commencement Day. . . . Harvard Club of New York founded. 1866. Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology founded. . . . Advocate begins publication (as The Collegian) but is suppressed after three issues. 1867. Dental School founded. . . . Horatio Alger, A.B. 1852, publishes first novel. Ragged Did. 1868. President Hill, unhappy in his position, resigns. 1869. Professor of chemistry Charles W Eliot, A.B. 1853, becomes president. Inaugural address states his intention "to build here, securely and slowly, a university in the lurgest sense." . . . University's first bluck graduates: Edwin C.J.T. Howard, M.D.; George L. Ruffin, L L . B . ; Robert T. Freeman,

1860. Cornelius Conway

The Sophomore: From Sketches of College Life, by J.N. Mead, who died in his junior year at Harvard (1850).

Felton, A.B. 1827, professor of Greek, becomes president. . . . Prince of Wales, visiting Harvard, creates havoc by requesting sherry with his lunch. . . . Senior class is the first to number above a hundred. . . . Annual football fight between freshmen and sophomores is suppressedâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and replaced by "Bloody Monday"; hazing of freshmen reaches its

The only photograph to include five Harvard presidents (c. 1861). Left to nght: Josiah Quincy, Edward Everett, Jared Sparks, James Walker, Cornelius Conway Felton. SEITKMBfcR-OcriOHKK 198ft


A HARVARD CHRONOLOGY D.M.D. . . . In first international crew race, Harvard is beaten in England bv Oxford. 1870. Phillips Brooks lays cornerstone for Memorial Hall, most ambitious building ever attempted by the University. . . , Ephraim W. Gurney, professor of history, appointed first dean of the faculty. . . . Signet Society formed. . . . Colleges first black graduate: Richard T Greener.

Richard '/.' Greener, the Colleges firs! black graduate I A.B. 1870). 1871. First summer courses, given for teachers by botanist Asa Gray. 1872. Graduate School of Arts and Sciences e s t a b lished. . . . Arnold Arboretum founded. . . . Great fire of Boston: President Eliot personally rescues University financial records and equities. 1873. First American college newspaper, the Crimson (at first the Magenta) begins publication. . . . First track meets held, as an adjunct to boat races. 1874. Harvard and McGill split history's first two college football games. . . . Harvard

A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n is formed. . . . Fine arts department inaugurated; Harvard offers America's first courses in architecture. 1875. First Harvard-Yale football game, played under Yale's rugby-style rules, is won by Harvard. . . . A. Lawrence Lowell, Class of 1877, sets first University track records in mile and half-mile. . . . Dean Langdell of the Law School introduces "case method." 1876. First issue of Lampoon. . . . Rutherford B. Hayes, LL.B. 1845, wins disputed election for the presidency of che United States. 1877. John Langdon Sibley ends his lengthy regime as librarian; College Library now has 164,000 volumes, a card catalog by author and subject, liberalized hours for the admission of the public, women clerical assistants, and a quarterly bulletin. 1878. Memorial Hall comp l e t e d , at a c o s t of $398,000. . . . Construction of Hemenway Gym, heralded as the world's finest. 1879. Harvard's " A n n e x later the Society for the Collegiate Instruction of Women, later Radcliffe College—opens with 127 students. 1880. Sever Hall built G r a d u a t i o n of T h e o d o r e Roosevelt. 1881. Boston Symphony Orchestra initiates Sanders Theatre concerts. 1882. Oscar Wilde visits Harvard; students attend his Boston Music Hall appearance

• Clubmen, 1872. 78




Theodore Roosevelt, Class of 1880, lightweight boxer and exponent of vigorous living, down by the boathouse. dressed in wigs, flowing neckties, and knee breeches, each carrying a sunflower or a lily. . . . Students found Harvard Co-operative Society to protect themselves from rapacious Harvard Square coal dealers and booksellers. 1883. No required courses for freshmen except F'rench and English. . . . Austin Hall built. . . . School of Veterinary Medicine founded. 1884. Daniel Chester French's statue of John Harvard presented to the University by Boston businessman Samuel J. Bridge. . . . Jefferson Physical L a b o r a t o r y completed. 1885. Fay Mansion on Cambridge Common is purchased for the Annex for $20,000. 1886. The 250th anniversary of the founding of the College is marked by freshmen carrying a banner reading: "The College Has Waited 250 Years For Us." More than 2,500 alumni and friends attend—including President Cleveland, who declines an honorary degree. . . . President Eliot's elective system fully implemented. . . . Harvard ends compulsory prayers, first American institution to do so. . . . Last Greek Oration at Commencement. 1887. First Blaschka glass flowers arrive. . . . Faculty abolishes entrance requirement in Greek. 1888. "Casey at the Bat," by Ernest Lawrence Thayer, A.B. 1885, published in the San Francisco Examiner.

1889. Board of Freshman Advisers established. . . . Semitic Museum founded. 1890. Major Henry Lee Higginson, A.B. 1855, donates Soldiers Field (31 acres) in memory of six friends who fell in the Civil War. . . . LeBaron R. Briggs, A.B. 1875, professor of English, becomes dean of the College. 1891. Instruction begins in American archaeology, ethnology, anthropology. 1892. Josiah Royce, foremost "idealist" philosopher, named professor of philosophy. . . . Medical School l e n g t h e n s course to four years. . . . Football team originates "flying wedge.". . .Harvard Graduates' Magazine founded. 1893. All law students required to be college graduates. 1894. Radcliffe College incorporated. 1895. Fogg Museum (later Hunt Hall) completed. . . . W.E.B. DuBois '90 is the first black to receive Harvard's Ph.D. 1896. Brown bests Harvard. 6-0, in America's first intercollegiate hockey game. 1897. Students open T Wharf reading room for sailors and fishermen. 1898. Spanish-American War: a hundred students enlist, eleven are killed. . . . Nov e m b e r 7: First issue of Harvard Bulletin, then a weekly. . . . Radcliffe gym built. 1899. First pension plan for faculty members. . . . Harvard wins third intercollegiate cricket cup, defeating Haverford 96-38. . . . Harvard group led by Dwight Davis '00 plans international tennis competition (Davis Cup). 1 9 0 0 . P h i l l i p s Brooks House opens. . . . Ten-yearold Weld boathouse burns down (rebuilt, 1907). . . . College proposes to increase income $150,000 per year byraising tuition from $150 to $200. . . . First cries of "Oh, Rinehart!" in Yard, later a Harvard tradition. 1901. Major Henry Higginson founds Harvard Union. . . . Frederick Law Olmsted Jr. creates first course in landscape architecture and city planning. . . . Stillman ln-

A COOL HEAD UNDER FIRE Charles William Eliot was in his third year as president of Harvard when the great fire of 1872 broke out in Boston. When he heard the news, the 38-year-old prexy sped to

the State Street office of Harvard's treasurer, crammed securities and financial records into a pair of carpetbags, and serenely conveyed them to the safety of Cambridge. SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


A HARVARD CHRONOLOGY continued firmary and first RadclifTe dormi to ry, B e r t r a m H a l l , completed. . . . Veterinary School dissolved. . . . College Pump blown up by Med.Fac, long-suppressed secret society. . . . Theodore Roosevelt, A.B. 1880, succeeds assassinated P r e s i d e n t William McKinley. 1902. L.B.R. Briggs, dean of the College, becomes dean of the faculty. . . . Eightieth birthday party in Sanders Theatre for Elizabeth Cary Agassiz, Radcliffe's first president. . . . Harvard Band organized.

John the Orangeman and Annie Radcliffc. 1904. 1903. Officially opening America's first reinforced concrete stadium (cost: $320,000), Harvard is beaten by Dartmouth in football for the first time in a nineteen-game series, 11-0. . . . Franklin D. Roosevelt '04 elected president of the Crimson. . . . Gordon McKay, A.M. (hon.) 1896, dies, leaving Harvard $20 million for applied science. 1904. University launches $2.5 million fund drive, its first g r e a t c a p i t a l c a m paign. . . . A rainy Commencement: for the first time, graduating seniors number more than five hundred. 1905. Professor George Pierce Baker inaugurates playwriting class. . . . President Roosevelt warns officials of Harvard, Yale, and Princeton that football brutality and foul play must be stopped. 1906. Dedication of Medical School quadrangle. . . . Emerson Hall, home of philosophy department, opens. 1907. America's first chair in biological chemistry is created for Professor Otto Folin. . . . Langdell Hall built, Harvard Forest acquired. . . . Three 80


hundredth birthday of John H a r v a r d ( N o v e m b e r 26) marked by dinner for 350 in Memorial Hall. 1908. President Eliot resigns after "forty years of service . . . in the pursuance of a profession that has no equal in the world." . . . Spurred by the financial panic of 1907, School of Business Administration opens in three small rooms in University Hall. . . . Oliver Wendell Holmes, A.B. 1861, and William Henry Moody, A.B. 1876, appointed to the Supreme Court. 1909. Professor of government Abbott Lawrence Lowell, A.B. 1877, inaugurated as president. . . . The "ancient" 1 larvard I louse opens to the p u b l i c in S t rat f o r d - o n Avon. . . . Harvard Club of Boston founded; annual dues $5. . . . Publication of "Dr. Eliot's Five-Foot Shelf of Books." . . . Archibald Cary Coolidge, A.B. 1887, becomes first director of University Library. 1910. Graduating class includes T . S . Eliot, Walter Lippmann, John Reed. . . . President Lowell establishes Extension School as an experim e n t in p o p u l a r e d u c a tion. . . . Charles River Dam completed, keeping river water at high-tide level. . . . First edition of the Harvard Alumni Directory lists 32,000 alumni. 1911. Concentration and distribution requirements introduced in the College. . . . First degrees conferred in Public Health.

Helen Keller '04, Radcliffe's first blind graduate.

Presidents Lowell and h.Iiot at Lowells inauguration, 1909. 1912. Boston-Cambridge subway opens. . . . President Lowell donates new President's House at 17 Quincy Street. . . . Harry Elkins Widener '07 goes down on the 77tanic. . . . Theodore Roosevelt vainly takes on Taft and Wilson in Harvard-Yale-Princeton presidential election. 1913. University Press established. . . . Cruft, Gibbs, and Coolidge laboratories built; Anderson Bridge completed. Gore Hall demolished. 1914. Professor Theodore W. Richards, chemist, wins Nobel prize for determination of atomic weights. . . . Merger of Harvard and M.I.T announced. . . . Four new freshman dormitories built south of the Yard. 1915. Widener Library, given in memory of Harry Elkins Widener '07 by his mother, formally opens. Holdings include more than 700,000 volumes. 1916. First tuition increase in 47 vears, from $150 to $200. . .' . ROTC enrolls 864 students. . . . I laving brought Harvard to eastern football supremacy, Percy Haughton '99 steps down as coach, with a record unlikely to be equaled: 71 wins, 7 losses, 5 ties. 1917. U.S. enters World War I: naval school takes over Cambridge Common for temporary barracks. . . . Adolphus Busch Hall (later Busch-Reisinger Museum) opens. . . . Harvard-M.I.T merger struck down by State Supreme Judicial Court. 1918. University enrollment one-fifth normal level. All student military units demobilized after Armistice. More than 11,000 students and

alumni had been under arms in World War, with 373 reported dead. 1919. At President Lowell's suggestion, two hundred students man temporary force d u r i n g Boston police strike. . . . John Reed '10 helps organize Communist Labor Party in America. 1920. Graduate School of Educationâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;first Harvard department to admit women on equal terms with menâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;opens in Lawrence Hall. . . . Football team edges Oregon, 7-6, in Harvard's first and only Rose Bowl appearance. 1921. Second major fund drive enlarges endowment by almost $14 million. College tuition raised to $250. . . . James Bryant Conant '14, assistant professor of chemistry, marries Grace Richards, daughter of Nobel laureate. 1 9 2 2 . School of Public Health established. 1923. More than a thousand books from the library of William James, M.D. 1869, given to Harvard by his family. 1924. Ninetieth birthday celebration for President Emeritus Eliot, hailed by President Lowell as an "educational warrior. . . [who] pursued without flinching the end he had in view." . . . Professor George Pierce Baker takes his p l a y w r i t i n g w o r k s h o p to Yale. . . . John Harvard statue moved from Memorial I lall to University Hall. 1925. Charles Eliot Norton chair of poetry endowed. . . . Dean Briggs sreps down. . . . President's report says Harvard is pinched for funds; College tuition rises to $300. 1926. Newly established Harvard College Fund raises $123,544. . . . First Medical School residential hall built. . . . Memorial Hall commons closes; most students prefer to "eat around." . . . J. Robert Oppenheimer graduates, summa cum laude. 1927. New Fogg Art Museum opens. . . . Business School dedicates new campus near Soldiers Field. Weeks Bridge completed. 1928. Edward Harkness, Yale '97, offers Harvard $3 million for an honors college, later pledges $10 million more to

A YALE MAN BECOMES HARVARD'S GREATEST BENEFACTOR Edward Harkness, Yale '97, had offered to endow an "honor college" in N e w Haven. When Yale dithered, he turned to Harvard. President Lowell not only accepted his offer but persuaded him to give $13 million for

a complex of residential Housesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a dream that Lowell had almost given up. When construction began in 1929, Harkness, Lowell, and Phantom, the president's dog, were the most ardent sidewalk superintendents. SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


A HARVARD CHRONOLOGY amimutd build House system. . . . llarvard-Yenching Institute founded. . . . Dr. Philip Drinker and Dr. Louis Shaw, of the School of Public Health, devise first "iron lung" to aid polio victims. . . . Mallinekrodt Chemical Laboratory opens. . . . Tuition raised to $400.

1929. Construction of Duitster and Lowell houses begins. . . . Charles Francis Adams. A.B. 1888, retires after 31 years as Harvard treasurer. 1930. Intercollegiate Athletic Building opens, covering an entire block. . . . Bobby Jones '24 wins world's top four golf matches and announces his retirement. 1931. All Yard dormitories occupied for first time by freshmen. . . . Faculty Club opens. 1932. Completion of Memorial Church, honoring alumni who died in World War I W. Barry Wood '32, AilAmerican football player and four-sport athlete, wins tenth varsity letter and graduates

Harry Woo//, All-American. summacum laude. . . . Franklin D. Roosevelt '04 wins White House. . . . Society of Fellows founded by President Lowell. . . . After a 24-ycar tenure marked by record construction and endowmentbuilding, Lowell, 75, announces his retirement. 1933. Organic chemist James Bryant Conant '14 succeeds Lowell as president. . . . Seven o'clock rising bell banned forever from the Yard, an order hailed by the freshman class of 1937 as Conants greatest achievement. 1934. Dr. George Minor and Dr. Walter Murphy share Nobel prize in medicine and physiology. . . . Graduates' Magazine ceases publication. 82


1935. School of Public Administration endowed by Lucius N. Littaucr '78. 1936. Tercentenary Celebration draws 15,000 to Harvard. They endure wind and heavy drizzle to applaud 62 honorands, hear President

twelve-month academic schedule. . . . Wartime research develops radar jamming, antisubmarine detection system, acoustical and radiowave propagation research, incendiary devices, napalm. 1943. Harvard classrooms

plan for European economic recovery. Degree recipients include the one hundred thousandth since 1642. 1948. Graduating class exceeds 1,000 for first time. . . . Tuition increase (first in twenty years), to $525. 1949. General Education Program established. . . . Undergraduates flock to new Lamont Library: "Glory it is," says Crimson. , . . Twelve women graduate from Medical School, first of their sex in the school's history. . . . Gordon McKay's residuary bequest of $16 million bolsters programs in applied science. . . . Football team's 44-0 loss at Stanford begins the worst (1-8) season in Harvard annals. 1950. College graduates its largest senior class: 1,145 men. . . . Permanent financialaid center set up to help nearly Fireworks on the Charles at the Tercentenary, 10.16. half t h e u n d e r g r a d u a t e body. . . . Graduate Center open to Radcliffe students. Franklin D. Roosevelt speak, and H a r k n e s s C o m m o n s . . . In surprise ceremony, Britand laugh at Yale President open. . . . Afrer agonizing reish Prime Minister Winston Angell's borrowed joke that appraisal, Harvard officials deC h u r c h i l l is a w a r d e d an the rain is "Conants method of cide not to give up football. LL.D. soaking the rich." . . . Because 1951. "Gracious living" re1944. Only 611 College stuof Depression, Tercentenary cedes; weekly student porters dents arc civilians; 45,000 offifund drive raises less than half replace daily maids in dormicers and officer candidates its $6 million goal. tories and Houses. move through various Harvard 1937. Nieman Fellowships programs. created. . . . Keyes D. Metcalf 1952. More than 1,600 stu1945. War ends. Of 26,389 comes from New York Public d e n t s g a t h e r in Harvard former students who served, Library to head Harvard liSquare to support Pogo Pos649 died. . . . Publication of brary system, and begins disum, the Crimson's nominee Education in a Free Society, cor- for U.S. president. Two dozen versification and building nerstone of General programs. arc arrested when the rally gets Education. out of hand. . . . Harvard Col1938. Commencement honlege Fund tops $500,000. 1946. Commencement honorands include Walt Disney, "A orands include future Presimagician who has created a 1953. After twenty years in dent Dwight D. Eisenhower. modern dwelling for the office. President Conant leaves . . . Sharp increase in enrollmuses." . . . New England's to become U.S. High Comment and insufficient accomworst hurricane uproots fifteen missioner to Germany. Classimodations create fall housing trees in the Yard and hundreds cist Nathan M. Pusey '28, crisis. Temporary shelter ("cot, in the Arnold Arboretum. chair, and ashtray") set up in 1 9 3 9 . Walter G r o p i u s , IAB gymnasium. Married stufounder of Bauhaus School, dents are housed at Hotel heads architecture division of Brunswick, Boston, Fort Dethe School of Design. . . .Law vens in Aver, Mass., and temprofessor Felix Frankfurter porary structures on Jarvis named to Supreme Court. Field.' 1940. Houghton Library 1947. Out of a College stu(rare books and manuscripts) dent body of 5,300, some opens. . . . Bertrand Russell 4,000 are veterans. . . . Comappointed to William James Outgoing /'resident Conant with putation Laboratory opens, lectureship. . . . John F Kenincoming President i'usey, 1953. headed by Professor Howard nedy graduates. president of Lawrence ColAiken. Mark 1, "Automatic Se1941. WHRB begins lege, succeeds him. . . . Paul quence Controlled Calculabroadcasting. Buck, I larvard's first and only tor," captures attention of 1942. U.S. entry into World provost, steps down as dean of scientific world. . . . Secretary War II begins Harvard's graduthe Faculty of Arts and Sciof State Marshall, speaking at al conversion to a military and ences; McGeorge Bundy, Yale Commencement, promulgates naval training school with

AN UNANNOUNCED VISIT FROM A FORMER NAVAL PERSON Awarded a Harvard L L . D . at a special exercise in 1943, Winston Churchill appeared on the Memorial Church steps to give the victory sign to a crowd often thousand. In a

classic Churchillian address, the P.M. had spoken out for continued Anglo-American unity: "If we are together, nothing is impossible; if we are divided, all will fail." SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


A H A R V A R D C H R O N O L O G Y continued

'40, assumes the deanship. . . . First women graduate in law. . . . Senator Joseph McCarthy attacks Puscy ("a tabid anti-anti-communist") and H a r v a r d (" a s m e l l y mess''). . . . Seventeen alumni dead in Korean War. 1954. Harvard and seven other eastern colleges formalize Ivy League, banning athletic scholarships and spring football practice. . . . Alumni Association votes to accept female holders of Harvard degrees, with same rights and privileges as men. 1955. Helen Keller is first woman to receive a Harvard honorary degree. . . . Tenth edition of the Harvard Alumni Directory lists more than 100,000 alumni. 1956. Announcement of

1960. U.S. Olympic hockey team, with four Harvard players, wins gold medal. . . . Mary I. Bunting inaugurated as president of Radcliffe College succeeding historian W.K. J o r d a n , p r e s i d e n t since

1943. . . . Locb DramaCenter opens. . . . John F. Kennedy '40, Massachusetts senator and Hatvard Overseer, becomes

dergraduates in experiments with mind-alteting drugs. . . . Graduating seniors from Radcliffe begin receiving Harvard diplomas. . . . Governing Boards dine at White House. . . . President Kennedy is assassinated. 1964. Faculty of Arts and Sciences endorses General Education but fails to support

$82.5-rnillion Campaign for Harvard College. . . . Tuition raised to $1,000. . . .Memorial I lall towet goes up in flames during renovation.

1957. Cambridge Electron Accelerator, most powerful in world (jointly operated by Harvard and M.I.T.), completed. . . . Barbara Ward, Lady Jackson, former editor of the Economist, first woman to address Harvard alumni exercises. . . . Harvard College Fluid tops $1 million. 1 9 5 8 . Health Services opened to RadclifFe. 1959. Opening of eighth residential House, named for President Josiah Quincy. . . . 1 Inder auspices of Law School Forum, Fidel Castro disavows communism before thousands

Fidel Castro at the Law School Forum, 1959 at the Stadium. . . . Harvard accepts bequest of Bernard Berenson's villa, I Tatti, outside Florence. Program for Harvard College completed with $88 million in hand. . . . Launching of $58-million Program for Harvard Medicine. K4


1965. Explosion at the Cambridge Electron Accelerator kills one, injures seven, including two professors. . . . Harvard Alumni Association and Associated Harvard Clubs merge to form Associated Harvard Alumni. . . . Medical School's Countway Library completed. 1966. New wave of construction adds Holyoke Center, Larsen Hall, Cambridge Street underpass, and a restored Radcliffe Yard to University's plant. . . . Arboretum case settled after almost twenty years of controversy and litigation. . . . Institute of Politics formed under auspices of renamed Kennedy School of Government. . . . Students protesting Vietnam War obstruct Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara when he speaks at Quincy House. 1967. Crew represents United States in Olympics for first time, finishing sixth in Mexico City. . . . Sit-in blockades Dow Chemical rec r u i t e r in M a l l i n c k r o d t Lab. . . . President Pusey foresees $4,000 tuition by

1988. . . . Memorial Hall's clock lower aflame. September 6, 1956. sixth graduate elected U.S. president. 1961. President Puscy is acclaimed on tour of Asia. Back in Cambridge, anglicized diplomas evoke chants of "Latin, si, Pusey, no." . . . Mary 1. Ruining establishes Radcliffe Institute for I n d e p e n d e n t Study. . . . Dean Bundy goes to Washington as presidential assistant for national security; other administtators and faculty members accept high-level posts in new administration. 1 9 6 2 . Hellenic C e n t e r opened in Washington. . . . Franklin Fbld, professor of history, named dean of Faculty of Arts and Sciences. . . . James I). Watson, professor of biology, shares Nobel prize for discovery of structure of UNA. 1963. I larvard unexpectedly bests Yale in swimming for first time since 1938, 4847. . . . Psychologists Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert are dismissed after involving un-

major overhaul of curriculum. . . . William J a m e s Hall opens, putting laboratories and teaching facilities for behavioral studies under one (high-rise) roof. . . . Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) march to protest Vietnam War.

All of Lament

Library is opened to Radcliffe students. 1968. Scoring sixteen points in last 42 seconds of play, unbeaten Harvard stuns unbeaten Yale in 29-29 football epic. . . . Rainy Commencement for first time since 1904. . . . Endowment reaches $1 billion. 1969. Ejecting nine deans, SDS demonstrators occupy University Hall on April 9.

Riot squad leaving University Hall, April 10, 1969.

â&#x20AC;˘Aj Netufiborkood demottsitntors interrupting Commencement, 1971. Their removal by state police riot squad precipitates a student strike that disrupts academic life. Faculty is deeply divided; Dean Ford resigns eight months later. . . . Department of Afro-American Studies established with students as members of standing committee. . . . Harvard University Gazette and Harvard Independent b e g i n w e e k l y publication. 1970. President Pusey announces plans to retire in June 1971. . . . Tenth residential Mouse, Mather, opens. . . . In April, rioters trash Harvard Square; Lawrence Hall burns down. . . . 1 larvard and Radcliffe hold first joint Commencement. ROTC programs terminate at end of academic year. Community group demanding low-income housing disrupts graduation exercises. 1971. After e x t e n s i v e search, Law School Dean Derek Curtis Bok, L L . B . '54, is elected to succeed Pu-

sey. He appoints four vice presidents and names John Dunlop, professor of economics, acting dean of faculty.

Derek liok in his first year as Harvards twenty-fifth president. 1972. Black students occupy Massachusetts Hall for a week, protesting Culf Oil's activities in Angola and Harv a r d ' s s h a r e h o l d i n g s in Gulf. . . . Radcliffe President Bunting resigns. She is succeeded by Matina Sourctis Horner, 32, assistant professor of clinical and personality psychology. . . . Gund Hall dedicated as the School of Design's new h o m e . . . . Armed robbers steal coins worth millions from Fogg Museum. 1973. Dean Dunlop goes to Washington as wage-price czar; Henry Rosovsky, professor of economics, becomes dean of faculty. . . . $19 million Science Center, Harvard's costliest building, completed with funding from $49-million Program for Harvard Science. . . . Vietnam cease-fire: seventeen Harvard men gave their lives. . . .

Harvard Bulletin becomes Harvard Magazine. 1974. Newly formed Harvard Management Company takes over $1 billion of Harvard's $1.4 billion portfolio. 1975. Pusey Library, $7 million underground extension of L a m o n t and Houghton, completed . . . Dean Rosovsky appoints seven task forces to consider educational reform. . . . Helen Homans Gilbert '36, first woman elected to Board of Overseers, becomes president of board. . . . Harvard College Fund exceeds $5 million. . . . Harvard and Radcliffe admissions offices consolidate, adopt "equal-access" policy. . . . Football team gains its only outright Ivy title, beating Yale 10-7. 1976. Center for Lifelong Learning established, offering courses and workshops to members of the public of all ages. . . . College tuition rises to $4,100. 1977. Harvard and Radcliffe sign "non-merger merger" agreement. . . . Kennedy School breaks ground for $12 million building. . . . Excavations for Red Line subway extension begin. 1978. Blizzard closes Harvard for first time in history. . . . Faculty approves Core Curriculum, requiring undergraduates to take courses in five broad areas. . . . Antiapartheid protests begin. . . .

Aleksandr SrdsJienitsyn, 1978 Commencement speaker. Honorand Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn assails "the exhausted West" in Commencement afternoon speech. 1979. Five-year Harvard Campaign begins. Goal: $250 million to replenish endowment. . . . College Fund exceeds $7.5 million. . . . Men's

heavyweight crew beats Yale by two seconds in one of the rivalry's greatest races. 1980. American Repertory Theatre moves from Yale to Harvard. . . . Medical Area Total Energy Plant's cost projected at $250 million or more. . . . College tuition: $6,000. 1981. Yale wins HarvardYale boat race for the first time since 1962. 1982. Scniot Fellow Francis H. Burr '35 retires after 28 years on the Corporation. . . . Harvard Campaign target raised to $350 million. . . . Commencement week speakers include Mother Teresa and Kermit the Frog. . . . Allston Burr Lecture Hall is demolished to make room for Fogg Museum extension. . . . College tuition now $8,195. 1983. One hundredth Harvard-Yale football game ends in 16-7 victory (and co-championship of Ivy League) for Harvard. 1984. Harvard Campaign tops out at $358 million. . . . Henry Rosovsky, relinquishing deanship of FAS for University P r o f e s s o r s h i p , is succeeded by A. Michael Spence, professor of economics. . . . Harvard-Radcliffe Orchestra plays in Soviet Union. 1985. Rosovsky is named to Harvard Corporation. . . . Subway construction completed. . . . Men's heavyweight crew wins national title. . . . Sacklcr Museum, Fogg's $12million extension, opens. . . . Library, enlarging its collections at a rate of 60,000 books per year, now lists nearly 11 million volumes. 1986. Value of endowment over $3 billion. Annual cost of attending Harvard College now $16,145, including room and board, fees, and tuition ($11,390). . . . Men's swimming team wins eighth consecutive eastern title. . . . Anti-apartheid group erects shanties in Old Yard. . . . Harvard College Fund exceeds goal of $17,350,000 Sixteenth edition of Harvard Alumni Directory lists 234,136 living alumni. . . . Five-day celebration marks Harvard's 350th anniversary. SF.PTF.MBKR-OCTOHER 1986







^flfjF Obvcr Wendell Holmes


WJfrum Randolph Hearst


Robert Todd Lincoln


John Pieroont Morgan


Henry Cabot Lodge


Nicholas Lonnynorth

T.I M E ]

A Lawmen Lowell


Robert W Wood

Theodore Roosevelt

Cfrartes f Copettntf



Thomas w Umonl


Afanson B. Houghton

George amAQMM



Percy S. Straus





Irak JoseiOh C Grew


FtariKHn D




Offden (. Mrtfs



C*"ra» Wrffoim f Gfbbs

Walter Ltppman


Wim/i/op W Atdiich

TI M ]

Ernest Greening

Harold S Vanderbrtl




y Clarence C Utile

Richard Wlutney

Joseph P Kennedy

Hatty J Grant


James Bryant Conant

Van Wyck Brooks


Lcverett SaHonstoil


Tse-veng Soong


Buckmtnster Futlet

Sherman M Fatrctutd

Robert F Gross


Robert T Jones Jr

Coutllandt S Grc

Plithp Jobnsort

Lanvnot Copcland

NaiCan W Pusey

Robert C Weaver

Neil H McEboy

Edwin Land

CokjmbVS Iseltrt II

Charles F.dison

J Robert Oppenh&mor

C Douglas Ditlan

For 350 years, Harvard University has been turning out leaders of American society.

Thomas Esgltston

Joseph CaMano

Hvtow Shoctey

John Kenneth Ga/twa/th

McGootge Bundy

John F Endets

Oatwl P MoytKhan

For 63 of those years, they have been turning up regularly on the cover of TIME. â&#x20AC;˘

A l








The Radcliffe crew's varsity four plus cox sit for a team portrait at Weld Boathouse.




.L! •

mm 'j.

V ifc^^^j*! '^




j^K^-' r ^^^^~




wyi^^^~ •




^ssffl\ J





^ ^ ^—^-.

SIM* —


Steven Profit, M.RA. '86, in the lap of the patriarch.

Family Album Photographs and comment by Jim Harrison Harvard 1986. Images appear as though out of the past. It is the spring of 1956. T h e United States has a fatherly Republican president who is guiding the country through a period of economic strength and social normalcy. America's faith in itself has been renewed after the hard lessons of an ugly Asian war, and our children are once again resolutely marching through academia to the sounds of a new spirit of cntrepreneurship and energetic capitalism. The university that John Harvard so gravely watches over is, of course, thirty years more mature than this image and far more complex. There has very clearly been a sexual revolution. Men and women share everything from living space to athletic facilities with an ease that once seemed impossible if not unhealthy. Harvard has experienced a sociological revolution as well. A generation ago its Brahmin leaders might well have felt secure SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


FAMILY A L B U M continued

Jeremiah Kck, lecturer in architecture, at the Faculty Club.

Visiting lecturer Professor Jing Qicheng explicates "Recent trends in psychology in China."

Faculty daughter Emilv Duncan at the Radcliffe Child Care Center.

Dr. Hak-Chong Lee and son Kewsong 'S6.



in a vision of Harvard as an academic melting pot where the children of European immigrants could, like the late Theodore White, rise from their humble beginnings and be led into the fellowship of educated men (and subsequently women), acquiring along the way a certain similarity in dress, manner, and even values. But the pace of global shrinkage has quickened. Instead of puree of student we have concocted a true bouillabaisse, where Europe mixes with Asia, Africa, and the Middle East, and even the progeny of the ruling class have taken on a bewildering variety of looks. Hair is either long or short, and sometimes in between. Three-piece tweed suits with complementary caps mix with two-piece multicolored tie-dyed ensembles. Women attack each other on the playing fields with masculine intensity, and men seem content with the gentler and less competitive game of Hacky Sack. Black skin no longer stands out, and the faces in the Yard reveal a range of ethnicity as diverse as the first dozen names in the student telephone bookâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Aamoth, Aaronoff, Abati, Abbasi, Abbey, Abel, Abercrombie, Abers, Ablow, Abncy, Aboodi, Abou-Zamzam. But if the Harvard family of 1986 seems to lack a cohesive style and direction, it is not because of confusion or apathy. The past we think we are seeing in today's Harvard is really its future, pointing up that the challenge of education in America is not only to stimulate intellectual growth, but to assimilate social diversity without homogenizing it.

At Langdell Hall, Daniel G, Lawton absorbs the majesty of the law.


Ijl V â&#x20AC;˘ffF^^^ yi^k

. C



Gregory Anderson delivers the ball to Padraic Spence as David Cohen observes. All are members of the Class of 'S9. T h e game is Hacky Sack. At left, a pedestrian makes his way across the Weeks Bridge toward the Business School.

S E P T E M B E R - O T T O B K R 1986


FAMILY ALBUM continued

A masters' reception at Lowell House for seniors and their families.

Bobby Kelly, left, and Francisco Pachcco prepare to feed the hungry at the Union.



A lemon emerges from the brush of Hae-ok Rim, in "Beginning Painting" at the Carpenter Center.

Alfresco coffee break, Forbes Plaza, Holyoke Center. Andrea Filippone, candidate for a master's degree in architecture, charretting at Gund Hall.

S E P T E M B E R - O C T O B E R 1986


FAMILY ALBUM continued

The choir at morning prayers. Appleton Chapel, Memorial Church.

A social encounter in the Lowell House Junior Common Room.



Aerobics at the Malkin Athletic Center (tie Indoor Athletic Building).

mPM W^\~











1 1 'y*


FrjJ 1


Above: Peter Jensen '87 and Elizabeth Anne Casey '87 on oudying rocks at the Science Center fountain. Above left: Rei Yun Chen '89 takes her reading to the Henry Moore sculpture in front of Lamont Library. Below: In the last lacrosse game of the season, H a r v a r d women fight fiercely with James Madison University (and lose, 11-8).



FAMILY A L B U M continued

Athlete's entrance. Professor Emeritus Mason Hammond, left, and William Hocking part company in the Yard.






T send a gift a Vo.d where prohibited


THE MAKING OF HARVARD'S T ^ A T j r r V T TIVTT? M—y: How the University f^ \ / l V 1 V l l H i &ets ,L sI)a"ls "• <md puts it to work to make more m -v.

by CARL A. VIGELAND Though it is not run for profit—legally, it is a public charity— Harvard is a business. Once a loose academic confederation, it has become a big institutional conglomerate with worldwide connections, getting and spending great sums, the creator and the creation of a lucrative money machine. Its jo-billion endowment is American higher education's oldest and biggest. If its $65()-million annual budget were an index of "sales volume," Harvard would easily rank in the Fortune Five Hundred. During the fifteen years of Derek Bok's administration. University undertakings have grown rapidly in scale and complexity. To fund Harvard's multiple enterprises the President and Fellows rely on a professionalized class of institutional managers, who aggressively expand the endowment, devise innovative financing schemes, and use sophisticated research and marketing methods to cultivate the support of alumni, corporations, and foundations. Harvard's billions can be a hindrance as well as a help, and the institution is sometimes victimized by its own success, unable to convince constituents of its need. Yet at the ripe age II.1.1 STftATlONS IIV Jill l-kt-.^ i.' IMI'IIC,

of 350, Harvard is in robust financial health. When the fiveyear Harvard Campaign closed out at a record $358 million in 1984, it was one more reminder that for the richest of universities, nothing succeeds like success. Money-making activities within a nonprofit educational institution create a tension: Harvard must never appear to be more concerned with money than with education, but in many parts of the University the pursuit of funds has become an urgent, constant, all-pervading end. Increasingly, there are potential conflicts between certain money-making practices and moral and ethical principles with which Harvard has long associated itself. With this in mind, I returned to Cambridge three years ago to write a book about Harvard and money.* To examine Harvard and how it makes money is to be impressed especially by two things: the vitality' of the institution and the reticence of the men—for they are nearly all men—who run it. This duality, which manifests itself in a 'Ciiau Good Fortune: Hox' Harvard Mates Its Money, published in August by Houghton Mifflin. Portions of the hook were adapted for this article. SliPTEMBKR-OeroBER 1986


THK MAKING OF HARVARD'S FORTUNE amlimud variety of ways, makes learning how Harvard works a challenge. Harvard invites attention; most Harvard administrators spurn it. T h e University's public self is extraordinarily rich and arresting; its private core is hidden and elusive. T h e reticence of Harvard administrators is more than a well-bred reluctance to talk about money. T h e University may not have anything to hide, but it has much to lose. T h e stakes for which it plays are enormous. As a private, nonprofit institution, Harvard is the leader in an unregulated industry, and it is

Harvard is the leader in an unregulated industry, and it is accountable to no stockholders. To boast about how it conducts its affairs would be inimical to the competitive advantage it enjoys. accountable to no stockholders. To boast about how it conducts its affairs would be inimical to the competitive advantageit enjoys. L i k e the intricate arrangements for a leveraged buyout or the complicated maneuvering for a large commercial bank loan. Harvard's financial management is a game whose rules, i f you don't already know them, you don't hear about. Though the subject preoccupies almost anyone in a position of administrative authority, money is treated at Harvard the way a life insurance company treats death. The company's policies sell "security"; University fundraisers trade in similar abstractions. "Harvard." proclaims one brochure, "offers an opportunity, unique even among major universities, to achieve the greatest impact with every philanthropic dollar."


uch inspirational marketing language was not yet in vogue fifteen years ago, when Nathan M . I'usey retired as president of Harvard. Late in his tenure, in 1969, Pusey was responsible for bringing in police to remove students occupying University Hall. That single, divisive event overshadowed the many achievements of his eighteen-year presidency, and when he stepped down in 1971 there were many who were glad to see him go. When 1 told some of his old colleagues I planned to interview I'usey, they said he was a bitter man. I shouldn't call him, they advised. I got in touch with him anyway, and heresponded that he would be happy to see me. I'usey represents a part of I larvard's past that doesn't square with the present. Indeed, the contrast is jarring. T h e I'usey administration had only one vice president (the link administration has five); fewer deans worked in University Hall. Under I'usey, endowment management was so old-fashioned that the treasurer merely made an oral report to the other members of the Harvard Corporation on what Harvard had bought and sold since they'd last met. I'usey's presidency was distinguished by staunch support of free speech during the McCarthy eraâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;with four other Harvard officials, he earned a


ll\Hv\ni> MAGAZINE

commendation from the American Civil Liberties Union. T h e president also had a personal talent for raising money, as evidenced by the $82.5-million Program for Harvard College. Completed in I960, that capital campaign was at the time the largest ever undertaken in American higher education. It made possible a dramatic expansion of Harvard's physical plant, and helped to enlarge the scope of its academic enterprises. I'usey met me at the Harvard C l u b of N e w York. I was struck by how well he looked at 77. with that same, extraordinarily clear complexion and white hair. As we walked through the dining room into Harvard Hall, he touched the collar pin on his shirt and parted the front of his suitcoat to be certain the middle button was fastened. We took seats at a small reading table; Pusey took out his glasses, adjusted them, and began speaking in a calm, slightly musical voice. "When I left Harvard, it had nothing to do w i t h the student disturbances," he said. " I t was clear that Harvard was going into a new period, and I felt I had done all I could d o . " After retiring he had moved to N e w York to become president of the Mellon Foundation. At first, said Pusey, alumni would tell him how sorry they were for the bad time he had gone through. "It hadn't occurred to me it was b a d , " he mused. "Being president of Harvard was a great joy." I'usey said he had distanced himself from Harvard affairs after Derek Bok succeeded him as president, but he had served on the executive committee of the Harvard Campaign. " I was worried that Harvard would rely on its past, great donors, and I argued with Derek and others about this," he said. " I felt the Campaign had to find Harvard donors who were younger. I guess it d i d . " Certain that what he called "the troubles" had started elsewhere, Pusey said he originally believed Harvard students "were smart enough not to get involved." Citing Columbia University's handling of the occupation of its library as an example of how not to respond, I'usey continued: "By the time of the University Hall incident. 1 had persuaded myself and the Corporation that we were not going to accept this. There was going to be a bang, but it was going to be over in two weeks. I f not, people would have come in from elsewhere. I can't prove calling in the police was the wisest course, but I'd do it again. "Some people afterwards thought of me as a horrible character. M y own personal disappointment was not with the students. There were never more than a few who wanted to herevolutionaries. There were a lot of nice, innocent kids who were manipulated by some crafty characters. M y disappointment was with certain members of the faculty who failed to give the guidance they could have. Some o f them lost their nerve. "I've never said this to anyone but my w i f e â&#x20AC;&#x201D; b u t deep in my heart there was a disenchantment with the Harvard faculty. I had to make speeches about what wonderful scholars they were, and I couldn't go out and say that anymore. "Bitterness? N o . I was sad. What happened was beneath Harvard's dignity. I loved Harvard, There are still one or two faculty- members, if I see them, there is no joy. 1 suppose they feel the same way about m e . " I'usey never hurried as he spoke. At times he seemed lost in thought. "Derek was a youngster when he was selected," he said of the man he had chosen as dean of the Law School in I%N. " I

had my eye on him, but I stayed out of the search. I was veryhappy when he was chosen. T h e one thing I felt badly about was that he said before he accepted that Sissela wasn't going to be 'a president's wife.' My wife, Anne, was extraordinarily gifted at getting along with faculty wives and others. That's important in an academic community7â&#x20AC;&#x201D;if Harvard isn't too big now to be called a community." Intended solely as an affectionate tribute to Mrs. Puscy, the remark was symbolic of the way things have changed at Harvard. "Before Bok," one Harvard official would tell me later, "Harvard wasn't a business. It had plentiful resources. Academic successes. Alumni gave their time and money. But gradually, post-Pusey, Harvard had to face the fact that it, too, had to manage its affairs better, to recognize, 'We've got a business to run." It began to professionalize the process of running a large institution. T h e golden age of academia was coming into the real world." "If there were a criticism of my administration," Nathan Pusey said, with a measure of pride rather than regret, "it

would be that I was trying still to run Harvard as though it were small." Derek Bok has no such luxury. His Harvard has grown tremendously, and the illusion of institutional innocence that Puscy evokes is irrevocably gone.


he Harvard of Derek Bok's era is an educational megacorporation. In line with ancient tradition, a two-tiered governance system still makes major decisions and sets policies. T h e Board of Overseers is the senior body, but the real power resides in the Harvard Corporation, which consists of the president, five fellows, and (ex officio) treasurer Roderick M. MacDougall '51. What has proliferated during the Bok administration is an extensive bureaucracy, now overseen by the five vice presidents and dozens of deans. Harvard has more than 11.000 people on its payroll today, including almost 2,900 fulland part-time faculty members. It is the largest employer in Cambridge, pumping $100 million a year into the city's economy. Financially, Harvard functions dynamically. It spends money to make money, for the past dozen years an in-house investment company has managed the University^ portfolio; its current budget is about $10 million. T h e development office trimmed its staff after the Harvard Campaign, but still maintains a work force of more than a hundred. T h e highly organized Harvard Alumni Association has an annual budget of more than $1 million and a staff of fourteen, who arrange reunions, send faculty speakers to meetings at the 148 Harvard Clubs throughout the world, and attend to the continuing education of alumni through summer "alumni colleges" at home and abroad, and cruises originating in such exotic places as Micronesia, the Aegean, and Scandinavian fjords. (In an unguatded moment, a former executive secretary once described the H.A.A.'s role vis-a-vis alumni as "to soften them up for the kill.") Harvard's monthly cash How is$l billion. Its annual budget of $650 million is divided among 4,S departments, which arcassigned a total of 95 main accounts in the Harvard bookkeeping system. Accounts for the faculty of Arts and Sciences, which include the College, make up the largest item in the annual budgetâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;more than $200 million in ll)K5-S6. In keeping with its Yankee heritage. Harvard follows an old monetary dictum so ingrained that it is often referred to by an acronym, ETOB: "livery Tub on its Own Bottom." T h e policy has been modified and is not uniformly enforced, but essentially it means that every department is an independent budgetary unit. Medical School tuitions cannot pay Law School professors, and Sanskrit scholarship cannot be subsidized by the sale of football tickets. Kacli "tub" competes with others, requiring at some level an internal justification of every expense. About one third of I larv ard's income is derived from tuition and fees, which since the mid-Seventies have been increasing at a tatc of more than 10 percent per year (tuition, fees, and room and board for Harvard and Uadcliffe Colleges rose to $16,145 this year). Slightly less than one fifth of the income mix Hows from endowment earnings, anil another fifth from gifts for current use. Much of the balance comes from government grants for research. The majority of Harvard's budget (about 51 percent) goes into salaries, wages, and benefits. About 17 percent is allocated for equipment and supplies, while almost H percent is



THE MAKING OF HARVARD'S FORTUNE amthmed channeled into financial aid. Another 8 percent is earmarked for debt serviceâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and that may convey the scale of Harvard's financial operations more fully than any other index. Harvard's total debt of nearly $800 million is the largest such figure for any private institution of higher education. Its size reveals something about Harvard's current methods of meeting its capital needs, and about the way it now manipulates money, particularly at the in-house company that manages most of the endowment.


ocated in the midst of Boston's financial district, the Harvard Management Company (HMC) has developed a reputation for innovative investing strategics, and it played an important, indirect role in the Harvard Campaign, managing the assets of deferred gifts. It was brought into being in July 1974 at the instance of George Putnam '49, M.B.A. '51. then treasurer of the University. Before the company started formal operations, a committee chaired by Derek Bok met to establish guidelines. Among them were these: University income should grow at 6 percent annually; endowment income growth was to be at least (i percent, reflecting an endowment growth of 8 percent, half going to income and half to endowment, with the balance of 2 percent to be made up in gifts. In 198485, under the H M C s aggressive management, the endowment grew by 23 percent (from $2.2 billion to $2.7 billion). Buoyed by a strong market, this year's figures will show continued excellent growth. Begun with a staff of a dozen, the HMC now has more than a hundred employees and an annual budget of about $10 million. It is headed by Walter M. Cabot '55, M.B.A. '59, whose expertise commands a base salary exceeding $200,000 and a total compensation package estimated at close to a half million. Cabot's staff' includes Harvard's best-paid employees, some of them earning three or four times the average salary' of a full professor in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences. Examined only in terms of its main purpose, managing Harvard's portfolio, HMC has transformed the financial character of the University. Conventional endowment management for nonprofit institutions seeks incremental capital growth coupled with modest earnings to pay institutional bills. Over a long history of prudent New England stewardship, this was Harvard's style too. T h e Management Company's wheeling and dealing, by contrast, belies the notion of a nonprofit institution's passivity. Harvard, through its wholly owned subsidiary, is now a venture capitalist, a big trader, an options player, a sophisticated exploiter of tax-exempt bonds. A case in point is the high-tech strategy devised to shield the University from the financial fallout of its unforesceably expensive attempt to construct a total-energy power plant in Boston. Budgeted at about $50 million when it was conceived in 1972, the Medical Area Total Energy Plant (MATEP) was to provide power for a dozen affiliated hospitals and research centers in the Harvard Medical Area. T h e original plan called for Harvard to act as developer and arrange outside financing. From the start, however, the project was beset by construction delays, cost overruns, and unanticipated regulatory problems. T h e total outlay for the plant, which is not yet in full operation, eventually ballooned to more than $370 million, including upwards of $35 million in interest charges during the longdrawn-out construction period. As the cost of MATEP 102


mounted, and plans for "Icvcragcd-leasc" financing fell through, Harvard officials were stuck with a lemon even larger than the plant itself: the entire bill. But Harvard, to use one HMC staff member's phrase, has "unusual name credibility." That is one reason the Harvard Management Company is able to attract investment professionals who otherwise might not be interested in working for a university. It is also why Harvard was able to push on with MATEP despite continuing community opposition. When the plant was finally a reality, Harvard used its good name to obtain debt financing. With the support of Thomas O'Brien, the University's financial vice president, the Harvard Management Company hit on a solution to earn, the cost of MATEP. Its author, associate treasurer George Siguier, M.B.A. 7 2 , called it a "one-three-five put bond." Bond rates vary for a variety of reasons, but in general the longer the term of the bond, the higher the rate of interest, since the value of the dollar far in the future is difficult to predict. A rise in present interest rates depresses the bond

market, since the investment is less attractive; correspondingly, a decrease in rates makes bonds a more sought-after investment. In 1982. when Harvard wanted to sell tax-exempt bonds for MATEP through the Massachusetts Health md [Educational Facilities Authority, interest rates were very high. 'TIK- one-thrce-five put structure at the time was very creative," says 'lorn O'Brien. "Siguier was very smart. A lot of smart people are not proactive. Hut Siguier said, 'Let's do ic.'" Siguier's explanation of the bonds is cloaked in the jargon of his profession. "You write the stated maturity of the bond in a contract," he says. "Say thirty years, payable semiannually. There is a yield curve; segmented out, those last years are quite expensive. We wanted the protection of very- long money, but participation at the short end where rates are cheaper. A thirty-year piece of paper with a buyback, a one-year put bond—that's what we did." Harvard, in other words, wanted as low an interest rate as possible, but wanted it while still getting long-term financing. But given the bond market at the time, no rational investor was going to give I Iarvard such a deal without some protection for himself. The put option gave the investor such security; if interest rates continued to climb, he could "put" the bonds back to Harvard, which then would have had to refinance at the new, higher rate. This was the only risk Harvard took; in return for doing so, the rate of the first bond issue was three percentage points lower than it would have been otherwise, saving Harvard about $ 7 million a year. The "one-three-five" terminology meant that the bonds were "puttable" on the first, third, and fifth anniversary of their issue (and each subsequent anniversary). Harvard expected interest rates to come down, and planned to refinance the bonds then. This is just what happened. Says Siguier, "Clearly the concern is that a school is going to borrow beyond the means to finance the debt. Yes, Harvard's debt is large, but it could go in tomorrow and write a check tor the entire amount. Compare Harvard to a regulated bank, where the ratio of debt to assets is roughly twenty to one. By those standards. Harvard could take on debt to make itself a $5()-billion institution! And that's just with respect to endowment. Think of the rare books in Houghton Library, the paintings at the I'ogg Art Museum, the physical plant, and the 'futures-unlisted'—the people still to give." iguier's calculation—taking Harvard's endowment and multiplying it by twenty—was hypothetical and meant to amuse. But his confidence that Harvard was at no real risk with its issuance of the one-three-five put bonds masks a less positive aspect of Harvard's clever use of the bonds: the American taxpayer in effect subsidized a portion of the plant's cost, since income lost by the government through the allowance of tax-exempt bonds must be made up by other means. With its name and network, and by successfully exploiting the instrument of tax-exempt financing (which it has also used for other construction projects). Harvard avoided what could have been a financial catastrophe in MATEP. T h e reference to the MATEP bonds in the 1984-85 Financial Report to the Board of Overseers ofHarvardCollege is typical of the way the University discusses its business. "These borrowings," the report stated, "financed the plant at the lowest possible interest cost and restored the General Operating Account's liquidity, which had been reduced by its internal advances for the


plant's construction." No mention was made of a more recent debt issue, for $140 million, since it had occurred after the fiscal year. That borrowing brought Harvard's total debt to $780 million at a time when Congress was considering a proposal to cap an institution's tax-exempt debt at $150 million, and when smaller and less powerful schools were struggling to remain solvent.


wo subjects come up repeatedly in conversations with Harvard officials about money. One is the MATEP plant. T h e other is Harvard's investments in companies doing business in South Africa. Though they arc not directly related, the two issues share a common denominator; how money affects I larvard's response to the world of which it is part. T h e thorny problem of I larvard's investment in companies operating in South Africa offers a case study in what happens when constituents of a nonprofit institution come into conflict with its business side. T h e Harvard administration's response to the recent nomination by petition of three pro-divestment alumni for the Board of Overseers is a good illustration. A letter from the president of the Overseers was included with the ballots mailed to alumni, thinly veiling the University's worry that one or more of the petition candidates would be elected. Derek Bok, who at first said only that he'd given his blessing to the letter, later acknowledged he had initiated it. Underscoring the tension between financial means and educational ends, the South African matter has probably occupied more of Bok's time than any other during his fifteen years as president. In the spring of 1979, six months before the announcement of the Harvard Campaign, he issued open letters discussing the social implications of University shareholdings and defending the Corporation's opposition to blanket divestment (perhaps with the hope of ventilating and defusing these issues before they impeded (Campaign efforts). Even.' spring since 1978 he has been dealing with students and others demanding divestment. Two years ago, on the seventeenth anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., a large protest rally in Harvard Yard was led by the Reverend Jesse Jackson. Bok chose ro be absenr from his office that day. apparently having decided that no institutional purpose would be served by involving himself in the day's events. Bok's tenacity on the South African issue is viewed by some as a testimony to his ability to function under pressure. Despite the vitriol of his critics, he has remained calm. Many factors might have kept him away when Jesse Jackson appeared at Harvard. He had to worry about the potential effects on Harvard's fundraising and the response of donors and volunteers, many of whom work for companies involved with South Africa. He had to worry about Harvard's students—and their parents, who might be receiving dividends from such companies and using them to help pay tuition bills. He had to worry about the University's portfolio and the professionals who manage it: how would their highly sensitive and sophisticated work be affected if the Harvard Corporation altered its policy on divestment? A prisoner of circumstances, perhaps. Bok is also a president by choice, and he chose then to turn his back on the appearance at Harvard of the most influential black spokesman in the country, who was speaking at Harvard on the gravest human-rights question in the world. Bok's decision was based on SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER l'<86


T H E M A K I N G O F H A R V A R D ' S F O R T U N E continual

a long-articulated policy that was ultimately based on financial considerations. Intellect, not emotion, governs such a policy, but it is intellect of a cool kind. By Harvard's critics it is seen LIS an absence of sensitivity, the fortunate looking down upon the unfortunate, the strong patronizing the weak. Harvard's money not only complicates its stance on South African investments but informs its attitude toward the debate itself. To many observers the institutional neutrality to which Bok often refers is a fiction, and the new era at Harvard is symbolized by the cautionary, calculated style of a president who frequently stresses management of a policy over leadership on an issue.


oney maintains Harvard's preeminence, but aggressive money-making can raise ethical, moral, and legal questions that are magnified by Harvard's place in American society. 1 began my book with the intention of writing about the University's fundraising, with particular focus on the Harvard Campaign. But the head of Harvard's professional fundraising corps did not warm to the prospect of being followed around by a writer, and he told me a book about Harvard fundraising would distort the relationship of the University and its alumni. I was forced to broaden my approach, and in the process uncovered issues that are more important than the workings of the development office. I did, of course, continue to follow the progress of the Harvard Campaign. Launched in 1979 with a five-year goal of $250 million, it had been trumpeted by the University with all the social zeal and verbal flourish of a holy war. Some $53 million had already been pledged when the Campaign was announced, and primary attention was given to major gifts— those of $100,000 or more. In the Campaign's second veur, staff and volunteers swung into the "regional phase," a twoyear effort to woo alumni in 7b cities throughout the country. At the same time, campaign strategists were encouraging alumni in major reunion years—"the fixes"—to boost their class giving totals. A surprising number of alumni were influenced by this nostalgic incentive, refined over the yeats by the Harvard College Fund. The initial response to the Campaign was so strong that in the summer of 1982 its goal was raised by $100 million. Then the pace of giving began to slacken. In July 1983, at the shaky midpoint of the Campaign's fourth year, its leaders realized that new gifts and pledges would have to average $5 million per month if they were to reach the $350-million target on schedule. The following January the executive committee announced a$25-miIHon "challenge fund," made up of increased pledges by the 27 committee members and three others. The fund would match each new contribution on the basis of one dollar for even.' two donated. By June the Campaign was passing the $300 million mark, and at year's end it was apparent that the Campaign would make its $350-million goal with a few millions to boot. Harvard had spent about $21 million, or six percent of the total, to raise the money—much less than the national average for fundraising campaigns of nine percent. Though the Harvard Campaign was over, the quest for more contributions was not. T h e sixry-ycar-old Harvard College Fund, which had been in suspension during the Campaign, would now be resumed, but at a different order of magnitude. In 1979, its last year of activity, the Fund had realized $7.5 million, the largest annual-giving total ever pre104


sented to a college by its alumni. For 1985-86, its target would be a whopping $17,350,000—a goal that was exceeded by $2 million when the Fund closed its books at the end of June. As I tracked the Campaign's latter stages, I learned more about the workings of Harvard's money machine. And I soon understood the development office's reluctance to talk with me. Most alumni view Harvard more sentimentally than Harvard views them, and this is especially so in the realm of fundraising. Harvard sees its alumni as prospects. It rates their potential to give by gathering and analyzing a wealth of private and public information about them. T h e euphemism for this activity is donor research, and the development staff spends long hours photocopying, collating, and filing its findings. Basic briefing information contains a potential donor's employment history, a list of directorships and trusteeships, a history of past giving to Harvard, and a summary of Harvard activities. Any family connection to Harvard is included, and outside interests summarized. Finally, Harvard estimates the prospect's net worth by calculating his estimated resources and liabilities. This is the trickiest part, because the information on which it is based is the hardest to come by. Corporate annual reports (including a company's so-called 10-K filings with the S.E.C., on which compensation of the company's highest-paid executives is included) are helpful. So are the casual remarks of a prospect's friends. T h e development office doesn't like to talk about donor research. Derek Bok can get angry when asked about it. Hehas every reason to. Such civilized spying is contrary to the spirit of free inquiry on which Harvard's scholarly community is based. But donor research and its ramifications have become an accepted part of the megacorporate ethic.


or its printed appeals to alumni, the Harvard Campaign adopted a crimson-and-white logo that showed Daniel Chester French's statue of John Harvard in silhouette. John Harvard, a poor minister who died in 1638, left his library and half his estate to the tiny college that had been founded two years before. No one knows what John Harvard looked like. French's statue, completed in 1883 for the College's 250th anniversary, is an idealization. Raising a chalice on the cover of the final issue of the Harvard Campaign's newsletter is a caricature of the statue. His youthful face smiling, John Harvard leans forward in his chair, the angle of his knees suggesting that he might stand to toast all the campaign contributors. Nearly three and a half centuries after his death, John Harvard has become a marketing logo, shamelessly selling what supposedly has no price. Still, the institution that began with John Harvard's generosity is prospering. With a record-setting capital campaign completed, the Harvard College Fund at a new high, tuition increases unabated, and the endowment growing at an average annual rate of over 10 percent since the inception of HMC. Harvard at 350 is in excellent financial shape. T h e ratio of endowment to annual budget—or "equity base," as George Siguier likes to call it—is about 5:1, and improving steadily. Harvard in 1986 is giving another meaning to a well-worn term: a new kind of "golden age" is at hand. Q k former reporter and college official, Carl A. Vigeland '6'J lives in Conway, Massachusetts.


Robert Jarvik, the man in the Hathaway shirt.

For Robert Jarvik, success can only come from simultaneous excellence in design, medical science and business. Demanding, yes, and in his demanding world, he welcomes Hathaway. Here the excellence is already in place, with superior fabrics, and fit that is both handsome and comfortable. These important assurances come in every Hathaway shirt, from basic white to a fashionable stripe, and Hathaway neckwear is always the perfect complement. True, Hathaway shirts cost a little more, but better quality always does. T T •*-V» 0 1 •% 7 0 1 1 Robert Jarvik knows nobody else makes a shirt the "Hathaway." K. A c i . L O . c l . W a . j 4 Available at:

iordan marsh



§ I


/Af A/ew Vorf: Air, we leave plenty of room for business people and vacation people to get whe vant, when they want, for what they want to pay. That's why we're Jff K T T X V / V ^ D ^ A not a fly-by-night airline. We fly by day, too. Every seven minutes. \S i N l l W I v / K l x / i l Call/our travel agent. Or New York Air at 8O0-2 21-9300.

Architecture helps differentiate the world. And Harvard's world is . . .

Red by ROBERT CAMPBELL Everyone's experienec of the architecture of Harvard is different, is personalâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;as it should be. Although I've spent most of the last 32 years living in or near Harvard, I still remember vividly my own first experience, when on a fall day in 1954 I arrived in Cambridge from mv hometown in upstate New York. What I remember is the redness. There arc no maple trees to speak of in the city where I grew up, and little brick. Harvard, by contrast, was a world of red. The autumn leaves overhead were red and so were the brick sidewalks below. Most of the buildings were red, and so were the football players in their crimson uniforms, and so were the little Veritas emblems that confronted me by the zillions. Even the politics, claimed Senator McCarthy, were red. For those first weeks I moved in a world of redness. As time went on the impression faded, as all impressions do, yet I've never entirely lost it. PHOTOGRAPHS BV CHRISTOPHER S. IOIINSON



R E D continued Years later, when I lived for a time in 1 lampstead, in London, I was reminded of Harvard: again, a red world. T h e redness of Harvard is one way of thinking about its architecture, about its uniqueness as a place. We live in a world whose architeeture is in a state of what the scientists call entropy. That is to say, the built world is declining from a state of greater difference to one of less difference. I f you By over Houston, Vancouver, Tehran, and Svdnev todav, vou can't tell

We live in a world whose architecture is in a state of what the scientists call entropy. by the buildings which is w h i c h — i n spite of the radical differences in climate, culture, and history. Soon, perhaps, the same gray blanket of identical architecture will settle everywhere. If that happens, it will be a tragedy. Architecture does nothing more important than help differentiate the world. That's why it seems so important to me to hang on to the redness of Harvard and to the other qualities that together make up iTSg&rittS tori, its spirit of place. When I became a student at the Graduate School of Design, during the great University expansion of the l%()s. Harvard construction projects seemed to be rising on all sides, and in many of them the spirit of place was violated. Some of the new buildings were good in themselves, some were awful, but few of either kind responded very sympathetically to the I larvard that was already there. William James f l a i l , designed by the late Minoru Vamasaki, can stand for the worst of this era: u pure white tower that is entirely "self-referential,'' to use a term from architectural critspeak. T h a t is, it arrogantly ignores its surroundings in every possible respect, recalling not the color nor the materials nor the scale nor the streetscape of either Harvard or Cambridge. William James, as it happens, is a good test case for architectural appreciation. I f you ask people to name their favorite Harvard building—people who aren't architects, that is—they w i l l , in my experience, name William James as often as any other. People who respond this way are responding to the building's egotistical prominence as an isolated art object, as a kind of huge ivory c a n i n g — a s a sculpture set on a podium, in fact, which is indeed how its architect surely conceived it. Hut this is not the way to judge buildings; if it were, we would wish to live in a world's fair of extravagantly self-imporrant structures. A good building is good not as a whole but as a part—a part of the whole that is its street, its neighborhood, its city. Good buildings gather collectively to make good places. William James ruptures everything around it. William James is an example of I larvard's "White Period," the brief time during which the University abandoned its redbrick traditional architecture. Trying like everyone else to be modern, it started building white, gray, or buff buildings, usually of concrete, beginning with llarkness Commons and the Graduate Center (1%0), by Walter Gropius and the Architects Collaborative. Perhaps the most prominent works of this modernist era are the Carpenter Center, designed by the French modernist L c Corbusier; I lolvoke Center, Peabodv Terrace,



and the Science Center, all designed by Josep Lluis Sen, a dean of the Graduate School o f Design and a former L c Corbusier protege; and Gund H a l l , by John Andrews, a former student o f Sett's. These buildings by three generations o f C o r busians, the last completed in 1972, are survivors of a time that now seems as aesthetically distant from ourselves as the Victorians. None were ever well liked, 1 suspect, by the general public, because none, whatever their other virtues, look much like Harvard. It isn't surprising that the art history term for this kind of architecture is "Brutalism." Derived by way of England from the late works of Le Corbusier, Brutalism employs raw concrete to create buildings of rugged sculptural power. Boston City Hall being the premier American example. O f these Harvard works of the modern era, the Carpenter Center is the boldest and best k n o w n . An amazing building, it seems to hover in the air like a whirling helicopter. At every single point at which this airborne building actually touches ground, it is a disaster. L e Corbusier might almost have designed the Carpenter Center for no site in particular (although he d i d , contrary to an apparently unkillable rumor, v isit Harvard before he began design). It is intended chiefly as a demonstration to Americans of L c Corbusicr's architectural vocabulary. 'The famous ramp that bisects it is now purposeless, but L e Corbusier was told that Harvard would be expanding eastward and perhaps closing or bridging I'rescott Street; his ramp was thus meant as a link to future growth. He also wanted his main entrance up on the ramp, but President Pusey insisted that it be relocated to a point opposite the hack door of the Faculty Club, where it could promote interaction of the faculty with the arts. N o one, 1 feel sure, has ever so interacted across the retaining wall (and now a handicap ramp as well) that baffles any passage. I low quickly the shock of the new in architecture fades. In the perspective o f only a few years, the Carpenter (tenter now appears merely as a quirkily handsome building that works no better than adequately inside (where it tends to isolate different functions) but is surprisingly deferential to its neighbors on Quincy Street, in scale if not in other attributes. here is no way, in a short article, to address all of Harvard's architecture. Perhaps a stroll up Quincy Street will serve as a brief sampler. Quincy Street, as it happens, is famous among architects, a kind of outdoor museum of oddly assorted buildings of different eras. First comes the fine Freshman Union (1W1), by Charles Follen M c k i m . One of the great American architects, M c K i m also designed the Harvard Stadium and the Johnston Gate (in the Yard next to Massachusetts Hall), as well as the Boston Public Library and Symphony Hall. 'The Union seldom gets looked at hut it repays study, especially for the rich detail at its entrance. Across from it is Lamont Library (I'MH). designed by Coolidge, Shepley. liulfinch and Abbott (now Shepley, Bulfinch. Richardson and Abbott}, a firm that long served virtually as the University's house architects and that created all the River I louses. Lamont, Harvard's first modern building, is in what used to be called the "Danish M o d e r n " style, the woody-bricky Scandinavian version of modern. Its Poetry Room, which is one of the few American works of the great Finnish architect Alvar Aalto (who designed everything down to the light fixtures), deserves permanent preservation. 'Then come the neo-(ieorgian Faculty C l u b , Fogg Museum,

Examples of 1 larvard's "White Period" are the Carpenter Center for the Visual Arts (top), by I x Corbusier; William James Hull (left), by Minoru Yamasaki; and the Science Center (below), by Sert, Jackson and Associates. The Poetry Room in I.amont Library (above) is by the Finnish architect Alvar Aalto.



R E D a>11tin lied

T h e great brick pile o f Sever H a l l (1880), by I lenry I lobson Richardson, is forbidding at first glance but surprisingly rich and delicate in detail.

and Fmcrson Hall, and the neo-Fedcral President's House, now occupied hy the Office Of the Governing Boards. All four arc representatives of the desperate love affair with the WASP past that overtook America as a reaction to the threat nonWASP immigrations in the early part of this century. Williamsburg, Virginia, o f course, is the architectural highlight of that Active era. It was, in general, a good era for architecture, which so often throughout history, even when at its greatest, has been erected in a brave, doomed effort to stabilize and symbolize a dying culture. A few years ago the Faculty Club interior was expensively and inexplicably renovated and furnished so as to resemble the third-class lounge of a Cunard liner. Designer interiors not being in the spirit of Harvard, a certain negligence and comfortable disorder—a sense of issues addressed but not quite resolved—are luckily reappearing. "We hate the palpable design upon us," as Keats said; no one willingly accepts the role of scenery in someone else's set. Moving along Quincy Street, we come to Sever Hall (1880), one of the two Harvard buildings (the other is Austin Hall at the Law School) by Henry Hobson Richardson, the greatest American architect between Thomas Jefferson and Prank Lloyd Wright. N o other Harvard building is so much admired by architects as Sever, a fact that will astonish mam readers. I recently happened to ask both Robert Stern, the host of the television series "Pride of Place," and James Stirling, the internationally known British architect, to name a favorite Harvard building. Both named Sever first. Yet Sever, like William James, is an index o f the gap between the architectural subculture and the rest of us, because most people think of Sever



as ugly—as grim, dark, and forbidding. It was once so described, in fact, by a student in Haivard Magazine. T h i s is a case in which both sides are right. Sever is a masterpiece of inventive brickwork and gently swelling sides that relates well to the older buildings of the Yard and faces elegantly, like Janus, in two directions at once, without sacrificing its burly Richardsonian character. At the same time, largely because of its uniformity of material, it looks forttesslike and grim among the white-trimmed, more festive buildings around it—stolid. as if it had been carved from a single giant brick.


till on Quincy Street, after passing Robinson I hill (another M c K i m ) , we come to Harvard's newest building, the Sackler M u s e u m , by the above-mentioned James Stirling. T h e trustees of the Fogg, in seeking an architect for this building, apparently tried to find the modern equivalent of Michelangelo; they winnowed their list of some eights' names down to Stirling, a winner of architecture's highest honor, the Pritzkcr Prize. One has the sense that rather than trying to extend the existing character of Harvard, the Fogg trustees sought, in this building, a new signature piece for the Fogg collection. T h e i r approach raises the question of whether a university should be thought of as a museum o f buildings. In any case, Stirling was unfortunately sabotages from the start by a difficult site; by the Fogg's program, which demanded that more be stuffed into the building than it could hold; and by Harvard's budget, which was projected at an absurdly low sum (about half the perfectly reasonable figure the building eventually, after much struggle, was to cost). His rationally organized interior yields a

and Caldcr). But the exterior betrays desperation in the architect's attempt to reduce the apparent scale, resulting in a jumbled confusion of shapes and applied bric-a-brac that isn't at all successful. And the abstractly patterned surface of purple precast concrete panels and white (millions has little to do with the Science Center's neighbors (the purple, incidentally, is gravel from the building's own excavation).

Q Memorial Mall (1878), designed by Ware and Van Brunl in the shape of a cathedral. This is the memorial transept. drab, striped exterior of orange and gray brick, with scattered small windows, plus one exaggerated, eartoonlike explosion of architectural motifs at the entrance. (This entrance facadeshould be compared with the west entrance of Emerson Hall, to which it bears intriguing similarities.) Only the marvelous interior stairway, like the stepped street of an Italian hill town, makes this building anything out of the ordinary. Opposite the Sackler is a neo-Gcorgian Cambridge fire station and then, slightly oft" to the side, the Science Center, Harvard's largest building, standing on a prominent site across the Cambridge Street overpass from Harvard Yard. I happened to be working in the office of Sen, Jackson and Associates while this building was being designed and remember Josep Lluis Sert's determination to break down its bulk so it wouldn't overwhelm the Yard. T h e building is tall in its rear but steps down as it approaches the Yard. If you look closely, you'll notice that there's considerably more architectural expression at the end that faces Littauer Center than at the Oxford Street end. That's because a huge cardboard model of the proposed Science Center stood in Sert's drafting room, oriented in such a way that the Littauer end faced the door. Sen would enter the room and immediately begin working on the model at its nearest point. T h e side of the model hardest to reach was the long side facing north, and in the finished building this shows the least elaboration. Inside the Science Center, corridors cross in a skylit T-intersection. bringing indoors the Harvard pathway system. T h e interior is brilliantly organized and a pleasure to inhabit, with a fine use of Sert's characteristic play of bright color accents against white or gray (learned from his manv artist friends, including Leger, Mini,

uiney Street concludes with the aforementioned Gund Hall; with Memorial Hall, Harvard's amazing Ruskinian Gothic pseudocathedral (voted one of the seven most beautiful buildings in America a few years after its creation in 1878, later regarded as hideous, and now again in favor); and with the German monastery that is the Busch-Reisinger Museum. In three blocks wc sec almost every kind of attitude toward architecture one could imagine. Indeed, James Stirling is supposed to have suggested that the only way his Sackler Museum could fit into the existing context of Quiney Street would be for it to look completely different from everything else. If the rest of Harvard looked like Quiney Street, the I'nivcrsiry would be an enccrtaining but chaotic jumble. It isn't, of course, for two reasons. One is the powerful, almost magically special place that is the Yard; the other is the wisdom of President Lowell in deciding that the River I louses, built in the 1930s, should imitate and extend, however theatrically, the Yard's older Georgian architecture. Harvard Yard's real virtues, at least as they seem to me, haven't always been understood. Certainly the people who built the vast state capitol known as Widencr Library had little sense of them. Harvard Yard, especially the Old Yard, is where Harvard's architecture is at its wonderful best, and this best is both provincial and austere. Simple gabled boxes like those a child or a primitive painter might draw, with red brick walls and usually with white windows, stand separate from one another, slightly aloof, never touching. T h e y vary in style (and sometimes in material), but all observe the necessary continuities: all are separate, discrete volumes, all have doors, windows, chimneys, and pitched roofs, all arc masonry, all are of roughly the same height and size. They stand on a floor of grass under a canopy of leaves. There is nothing else. Thereare no towers, no arcades, no terraces, no fountains, almost no symmetry, no organizing axial vista. Just the floor of grass with its crisscross paths, the roof of leaves or of winter branches, and the simple buildings shaping outdoor space as houses shape a New England green. Puritan New England remains strong here. Henry James understood the Yard. In The Bostonians Basil Ransom strolls among "the irregular group of heterogeneous buildingsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;chapels, dormitories, libraries, halls" that are "scattered among slender trees." James speaks of "the straight littlepaths" that traverse the Yard, and (doubtless with irony) of how, for his conservative hero, "the rectangular structures of old red brick especially gratified his eye." In the familiar historic woodcuts and etchings, the Yard always possesses its indefinable primitive magic. But it nevertheless has often been threatened by the nefarious forces of either grandification or prettification. Espousing grandeur, a history professor in the 1830s railed at the "vast brick barns, with a sort of horrible regularity' and squareness about them, which heightens their deformity." And in the 1880s, Charles SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


R K I ) continued

W Eliot himself complained: "Not any of our old buildings is venerable, or will ever become so. They look as if they meant business and nothing more." Except for the Tercentenary Theatre, a fairly modest conception, the Yard escaped the grandifiers. More recently, in the era of President Bok, there has been prettifying—foundation plantings around some of the buildings, brick or slate paving added to the simple asphalt paths. T h e result in every case has been to weaken the austerepower of this unforgettable place. Most unfortunate of all was the insertion of the I'tisey Library, which represents a complete failure of nerve by the the University, frightened of spoiling the Yard and no longer knowing how to build in character with it, I larvard's planners and architects tried to put this large building underground, with about the same success you might have if you tried to bun,' an elephant in a sandbox. I lalf underground, the unfortunate Puscv sits like a silted hulk in the middle of the Yard. Formal granite staircases, utterly unYardlike, enable you to climb atop it. The new dorms ofCanaday Hall, about the same vintage, show a similar unwillingness to take on any definite character. Honest fake Georgian, in the manner of Wigglcsworrh, would have worked much better and is quite possibly what would lie done today. What also would work, of course, is fresh confident invention in deep empathy with the genius foci—but that has become the rarest kind of architecture. In another part of the campus, the Kennedy School of Government joins Canaday in the category of buildings that try to fit into the dominant neo-Gcorgian context by imitating materials and shapes without using Georgian ornament: the result is a sort of abstraction of Georgian, a thin architecture that isn't bad but doesn'r carry much conviction. T h e first phase of the Kennedy School, where there was less of this stagy imitation, is better than the second, and the wonderful interior space, the Arco Forum, truly works for the school.


hich are Harvard's best buildings? University I [all, by (lharles Bulrinch, is certainly one of them, succeeding in standing out as a building of public purpose without in any way overawing its neighbors. Sever I lull is another. So is Massachusetts Hall, the archetypal Harvard building. So is Holden Chapel, the smallest building in the Yard yet more genuinely monumental than Widcncr. The Fogg courtyard (but not its bland exterior). Memorial Hall, surely, especially inside. Of modern works, perhaps I'eabody 'Terrace. 'The Lampoon building, in its special category. Of the Houses, perhaps Lowell. But in truth the question is the wrong one. Harvard has few significant buildings seen as separate works of architecture. What it has is a family of buildings and spaces that together establish a certain sense of place—an aggregation that intermingles, at its edges, imperceptibly with the city of (lambridge, then grows in intensity and definition as you approach the 'lard. In our entropic age, when we can no longer count on the constraints of climate or local tradition to keep one part of the world different from another, it becomes more important than ever to understand the sense of the place that is I larvard and to preserve it as the University changes and grows. U Robert Campbell, a graduate of die College ('58) and of die Graduate School of Design ('67), practices architecture in Gambridge and writes about it as critic for the Boston Globe. 112




Now business can feel positive again about communications.

We've made the complex world of communications easier to deal with. We're the companies of Ameritech. Nobody understands communications better. We send more messages to more people in more ways than any other company in our region. Nobody offers a broader scope of services. There's virtually nothing we can't provide for the movement of information. Everything f r o m fiber optics and digital technology to Yellow Pages directories that reach millions of readers each day. You can count on us to meet your future needs as well. Nobody is moving faster than Ameritech to bring more and newer communications services to our region. Nobody is making a bigger investment to accomplish that purpose. Some $3.7 billion during the last two years.

We're the Bell companies of Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Wisconsin. We also serve you through leading companies in: Cellular mobile phone service. Voice and data products and systems. Computer software. Lease financing. Directory publishing. And technology development. The companies of Ameritech are taking the worry out of communications. Our customers can be positive about the products and services we provide. Let us help you, too. Contact any of our companies directly or phone us: 1800562-2444.





Helping you communicate*.



n an often-quoted letter of 1904, President Charles E\iot contrasted his view of who should attend 1 larvard with that of his treasurer and persistent critic, Charles Francis Adams Jr. Adams, he claimed, "wanted the College to IK- open to young men who had either money or brains." Eliot insisted instead that it should be "open equally to men with much money, little money, or no money at all, provided they all have brains." During Eliot's presidency, and since, the University has devoted substantial resources to realizing that president's aim. In the 1980s students arcadmitted to Harvard College without any reference whatever to their parents' ability to pay the costs of their education. A staggering $35 million went to student aid in 1985-86, more than 15 percent of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences budget. Of that sum, $18.2 million was devoted to undergraduate scholarships. Some 42 percent of those enrolled in the College received support, with the average grant running to $7,000, roughly half of the charges for tuition, fees, room, and board. It is difficult to imagine a college making a greater effort to ensure rhar its students are selected on the basis of ability alone. That concern has a long history. In the beginning, Harvard College drew the bulk of its students from the upper ranks of

society. More than half of the first hundred graduates of Harvard were the sons of ministers or magistrates, occupations that placed their families firmly within the governing elite of the Bible Commonwealth. Hatvard's founders, though, did not regard higher education as a luxury properly reserved for the offspring of the affluent few. They thought it essential to make Harvard accessible to "poor but hopefull Scholars whose patents arc not able comfortably to maintain them." Strained though the College treasury usually was, public funds and donations from wealthy patrons like Anne Radcliffc, Lady Mowlson, were used for scholarships that supported a quarter to a third of the undergraduates in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. In 1710, for example, 16 of the 49 students registered received assistance covering more than half the bill for tuition, room, and board, not counting the sums they earned for waiting on table and performing other chores. During the eighteenth century, enrollments increased substantially, from little more than fifty to three times that by the time of the Revolution. T h e supply of funds available to "poor but hopefull Scholars" did nor keep pace with the growth in enrollment, however. T h e new donations and bequests were chiefly for books, buildings, or professors, not scholarships. In 1723 financial aid amounted to almost 12 percent of total stu-


How classes at Harvard came to include Southerners, Westerners, Catholics, Jews, those with much money, and those with none.




"POOR B U T H O P E F U L L S C H O L A R S " cmtmutd dent expenditures; by 1781 it had plunged to only 2 percent. This relative decline in aid did not alter the social composition of the student body as much as might be thought, however, because in this era youths from humble backgrounds began to find another way of financing college: they worked before matriculating to save enough money to pay their own way. Although direct evidence about the economic status of families whose sons went to Harvard is lacking, a revealing shift in the age of the student body took place in the latter half of the eighteenth century. In the 1750s only one out of eleven Harvard undergraduates delayed entry into college until he was at least 21, presumably in order to accumulate a nest egg for his education; by the 1790s the proportion was up to almost one out of five. Eli Whitney, a poor farmer's son who had to teach school for several years before lie was able to enter Yale, in 1789, at the age of 24, had many counterparts in late eighteenth-century Cambridge.


y every measure, the first half of the nineteenth century was a period of unprecedented growth and prosperity for Harvard. T h e number of College buildings grew from a mere half dozen to twenty, of endowed professorships from 6 to 21. T h e College library tripled its holdings. Harvard's total assets rose from about $250,000 in 1800 to $1,250,000 at midcentury, three times those of Yale, five times those of Amherst and Williams combined. Financial contributions to the University averaged but $1,800 a year through the eighteenth century; by the second quarter of the nineteenth century donations were pouring in at a rate of almost $40,000 a year. It was extravagant to claim, as one young alumnus did in 1859, that "Harvard was the greatest university in all creation," but by American standards its wealth and eminence were unrivaled. Although Harvard's e m e r g e n c e as a truly n a t i o n a l u n i v e r s i t y is conventionally located in the administration of Charles W. Eliot later in the century, giant strides in that direction were taken well before the Civil War. In one respect, the character of the student body changed hardly at all in the course of these developments. At the end of the period as at its beginning, the undergraduate population was drawn overwhelmingly from New England and very largely from Massachusetts. Some 82 percent of the students enrolled in the College in 1810 were from the Bay State; in the 1830s the figure was 86 percent. That was rather greater geographical diversity than in the colonial period, to be sure; every single member of the classes of 1755, 1771, 1781, and 1793 had been from Massachusetts. But it hardly indicated that Harvard's catchment area was very broad. From 1800 to 1809, a mere 6 percent of the students came from outside New England, in the 1830s only 8 percent. T h e barriers to long-distance travel then were far greater than they would be later, but that was not the whole explanation. Yale was considerably more successful than Harvard in attracting students from the Midwest, and Princeton had much greater draw in the South. On this count. Harvard was a more provincial institution in the antebellum years than some of the competition. If the dominance of New England in general and Massachusetts in particular represented continuity with the past, a second characteristic of the antebellum undergraduate population was something newâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;it was overwhelmingly drawn from cities, especially the large cities and chiefly Boston, at a time when American society as a whole was still heavily rural. In

writing about this period, Samuel Eliot Morison claimed that big city "swells" were "out-numbered by the horny-handed lads from country districts, 'fitted for college' and provided with a scholarship through the efforts of the local minister." But a count docs not support his claim. In the 1840s, more than half of the Massachusetts population and a large majority of the residents of the other New England states from which Harvard drew students lived either on farms or in small towns with fewer than 3,000 inhabitants. Only 5 percent of Harvard students came from such places. Almost two-thirds of them were from the Boston area, and most of the rest were from other large urban centers in the region. That "horny-handed lads from country districts" were such a rarity at Harvard was not a sign that these areas were too educationally backward to produce decent college material, for no less than 80 percent of Amherst and Williams undergraduates at midcentury came from such places. Harvard simply did not attract many students from rural and small town backgrounds. Nor did it attract many students from families in the lower income brackets. T h e big city boys who increasingly predominated in the College tended to come from quite well-to-do households. University spokesmen were naturally inclined to deny that such a shift in the class backgrounds of the student body had occurred. Hence President Edward Everett's claim that "the majority" of Harvard students were "the sons of parents in moderate, narrow, and even straitened circumstances." He presented no supporting evidence, and it is doubtful that any could have been found. T h e costs of attending Harvard rose sharply in this period. Tuition was $20 in 1807, $75 in 1845, and $104 in 1860. With room, board, and other living expenses, a year at the College cost over $300 at midcentury, more than an ordinary laborer earned in a year and roughly twice the expense of Yale or Brown. Yet funds for student aid increased hardly at all. In 1831 only 34 undergraduates were receiving support at Harvard, as opposed to 144 at Yale. T h e number of poor students who deferred their educations until they were able to pay their own way through school also diminished in these years. T h e proportion of men who began their studies at the age of 21 or more dropped from 19 percent in the 1790s to a mere 6 percent by the 1850s. This did not reflect some general change in the larger socieryâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;for example, such general prosperity as to eliminate the need for many youths to work before college. Some 17 percent of Yale students in the decade before the Civil War enrolled at the age of 21 or later, and more than 30 percent of men at such institu-




cions as Brown, Dartmouth, Bowdoin, Amherst, and Williams. That the age range of Harvard students narrowed far more than at any other leading college indicated that the University was becoming a socially exclusive enclave, populated largely by young men of affluent families from Boston and a few other New England cities. Harvard certainly had more financial resources to devote to student aid than anv of its rivals, had it chosen to do so, but

The University was becoming a

socially exclusive enclave, populated by young men of affluent families. the governing authorities did not seem particularly disturbed at the College s social transformation. Rising costs were met by tuition raises, with little thought to the problems of needy students who could not pay the toll. 'There were occasional expressions of concern. In 1826 a committee of the Board of Overseers declared that Harvard "was not designed by the founders to be an establishment for the rich alone," and went on to warn that "the yeomanry of our country and others of not large property" could no longer afford to send their sons to Cambridge. But another committee the next year scoffed at the idea that the University should "exhaust its resources for the support of a large number of indigent persons," and its voice was the one that was heeded. Such "indigent persons," the committee said condescendingly, "if not thus invited to the University, might become useful and respectable in some other course of life." T h e committee seemed unaware that, by then, young men without the substantial wherewithal required to foot the bills at Harvard had other alternatives. A major reason for the foundation of colleges like Amherst, Williams. Bowdoin, Colby, and Middlebury was precisely the wish to open up educational opportunities for students being priced out of Harvard. Morison's "horny-handed lads from country districts" were largely to be found at schools like these. Stiff costs and the paucity of financial aid were not the only things deterring otherwise qualified students from Harvard in the antebellum years. Religion also played a major role. Harvard went over to Unitarianism earlv in the century, on the eve

of the great outburst of evangelical zeal known as the Second Great Awakening. More than any other American college it was noted for its tolerant, cosmopolitan atmosphere. Three of its fourteen instructors and administrators in 1831 were Roman Catholics, at a time when most American Protestants regarded Catholics as agents of the devil. However commendable, such intellectual openness appeared to be religious indifference, even "godlessncss," to those who had given their hearts to Jesus in the revivals. Revivalist passions were stronger in the West and South than in the Northeast, and more powerful in rural areas than in the big cities, a fact that helped to skew the composition of the Harvard student body. Charles Franklin Tuwing'.s 1897 study of living alumni of Harvard and Yale attributed Yale's much stronger following in the West to its orthodox Christian image. To many in the West, the author noted, "the word 'Unitarian' means something almost as harrowing as the word 'Indian' meant . . . forty years ago." Not only were Yale, Princeton, Dartmouth, Amherst, and Williams more affordable than Harvard; they embodied an evangelical piety and purity much less in evidence in Cambridge. Striking evidence of the distinctiveness of antebellum Harvard is visible in the career paths followed by graduates of various colleges between 1825 and 1875. Although new scientific and technical occupations expanded rapidly as a result of industrialization, the ministry remained the most frequently chosen profession for educated men. No less than 24 percent of Yale and Dartmouth graduates, a third of those from Williams, 43 percent of those from Middlebury, and 46 percent of the students from Amherst became clergymen. Harvard was by far the most secular of America's colleges, with only 11 percent of its alumni entering the ministry. Its aloofness from the spirit of an evangelical age, its willingness to tolerate all shades of religious persuasion, distinctly limited its appeal in those sections of the country and among those social groups that adhered most firmly to Protestant orthodoxy.


efore the Civil War, as George Santayana later put it, Harvard was largely "a seminary and academy for the inner circle of Bostonians." At the turn of the century, the character of the student body had changed drastically. John Reed (Class of 1910) noted that "all sorts of strange characters of every race and mind, poets, philosophers, cranks of even' twist were in our class No matter what you were or what you didâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;at Harvard you could find your kind." Perhaps this statement displayed some-



" P ( X ) R B U T H O P K F U L L S C H O L A R S " continued thing of the romantic enthusiasm Reed soon was to show toward the Bolshevik Revolution, but a thoughtful contemporary survey, Great American Universities, yielded a similar verdict. T h e author singled out Harvard not only for its eminent faculry and wide-ranging course offerings, but for the exceptional diversity of its student body. "The ideal of Princeton is homogeneity," he concluded; that of Harvard, diversity. "The Harvard students are gathered from all over the world

"The Harvard students are gathered from all over the world, admitted under all sorts of conditions, and given the most diversified training." admitted under all sorts of conditions, and given the most diversified training." One element of Harvard's new diversity was geographic. President Kliot strongly believed that it was "for the safety of Harvard College, and for the welfare of the country, that the College draw its material not from Massachusetts or from New England alone; but from the whole country." In the four decades of his administration, from 1869 to 1909, Harvard's outreach grew notably. T h e proportion of students from the Bay State, always at least 70 percent of antebellum classes, fell to about half by the turn of the century. (It was down to 18 percent in the class of 1986.) Men from other regions of the country accounted for 37 percent by 1890 and 42 percent in 1905. The sons of proper Bostonians still went to Harvard, but they were no longer the dominant element in the College. As significant as this broadening of the geographic base of the College was the sharp rise in the proportion of students who entered Harvard without costly preparation in a private school or by a private tutor. Only a third of Harvard undergraduates in the 1860s were the products of public schools; twothirds had attended Andover, Kxeter, or other preparatory

schools, or had been tutored at home. By the eariy twentieth century, the proportion of youths from private schools had fallen to 47 percent. Although the change reflected the upgrading of public secondary education in the years since the Civil War, Harvard's traditional rivals were much slower to tap this new source of talent. "Preppies" still made up over twothirds of the student body at Yale and more than three-quarters at Princeton. In its welcome of students from public schools. Harvard became distinctly the most democratic of the "Big Three" colleges. A full explanation of the College's growing success in attracting students from Minnesota and Mississippi as well as from Massachusetts, from Peoria High School as well as from Phillips Academy, would have to note the influence of the waning of evangelical passions, the appeal of the elective system, the abolition of compulsory chapel, and other student freedoms introduced under Kliot. But the principal influences were the decline in the relative expense of Harvard compared to other colleges and the development of a far more generous scholarship program. By 1870 tuition was up to $150, the highest in the country; but it remained there for the next 45 years, while other institutions increased their charges. An 1878 report, American Colleges: Their Students ami Work, found Harvard more expensive than any other college except Columbia, with a rock-bottom minimum annual student expenditure of $450. But the minimum for Vale was $400, for Amherst, Brown, and Princeton, $350. T h e enormous disparity that had prevailed earlier between the costs of Harvard and other outstanding colleges had shrunk considerably, and it continued to do so later in the century. What is more, by 1878 Harvard had by far the best-funded scholarship program in the nation. T h e author of American Colleges remarked, "To a poor man of brains Harvard may be the cheapest college, as its scholarship and other funds may pay his entire expenses." Harvard's renewed interest in helping "poor but hopcfull Scholars" began in 1852, when the Alumni Association asked each class to raise funds to endow a scholarship in the College. This campaign soon began to bear fruit, and several individual donors made sizable bequests as well. In the late 1870s Harvard each year provided 112 grants to undergraduates, ahout a seventh of those er rolled. The average amount was $255 annually. Another $5,500 was dis-




tribtired in loans, for a total of almost $30,000 in aid annually. Yale offered only 28 regular scholarships, at an average of $60 each, for a total of only $1,680, with another $12,000 a year reserved for prospective ministers. Amherst, Brown, and Dartmouth rivaled Harvard in the proportion of students aided, but the average grant ranged from $70 to $86, only a third as much as at Harvard, for youths who required aid. Harvard's much larger awards more than made up for its higher costs. President Eliot had some misgivings about the growth of the scholarship program. He worried that dependence upon aid was corrupting, and in 1876 warned darkly that "the Communist doctrine that it is the duty of the community to provide every child gratuitously with the best education he is capable of receiving has obtained a certain currency in late years." But his deep commitment to meritocratic principles of selection, to finding the best qualified students regardless of their parents' ability to support them, outweighed those fears.


ven though Harvard had the most extensive scholarship program in the nation, its student body remained predominantly middle class, even upper middle class. In the early 1870s, half the students in Cambridge could afford a personal servant and 84 percent had fathers who were professionals or businessmen. Only 4 percent were the sons of farmers (a group that comprised half the nations labor force), and a mere 7 percent were the children of manual laborers (another very large group). Thirty years later, despite the pronounced rise in the proportion of students from public schools, the distribution of parental occupations was identical. Between 1870-1875 and 1903 the size of the various occupational categories changed by hardly a percentage point (see table). It is tempting but erroneous to interpret these figures as evidence of the gross inadequacy of scholarship assistance in the Eliot years. Differences in parental wealth, it might seem, were responsible for the highly unrepresentative class backgrounds of Harvard students. There is no way to tell if many poor but able scholars turned away from Harvard for want of more scholarship funds. But it is instructive to consider these figures against two other points of reference. Although tuition at the University of Michigan was free for residents, and other costs were well below those at Eastern private colleges, a mere

Occupational Distribution of the Fathers of Harvard Students, 1S70-1986 (in percentages)

Professionals Businessmen Government workers farmers Manual workers

Students enrolled. 1X70-75

Students enrolled. 1903

Stui/iiirs. class of /<M6

28.6 55.7

29.5 56.7

4.2 4.2 7.3

3.0 3.0 7.8

59..? 31.0 4.3 0.5 5.0

6 percent of the students at Ann Arbor in 1902 were from blue collar homes. It is even more illuminating to compare the social composition of the Harvard student body in the 1870s and 1903 with that of 1986, when poverty per seâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;as opposed to various disabilities associated with povertyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;does not bar any applicant from the College. With over 42 percent of the undergraduates on scholarship in 1986, lack of funds cannot be a major deterrent keeping anyone from attending I larvard. Yet the offspring of professionals and businessmen form an even more overwhelming majority of the class of 1986 than they did in the 1870s or 1903, though it is now those from professional families who predominate, a dramatic shift. T h e children of farmers or blue collar workers, 11 to 12 percent of the student body earlier, currently make up little more than 5 percent of the undergraduates. T h e sons and daughters of doctors and dentists alone outnumber them by three to one in the class of 1986 (15.7 percent of the total), although there are 112 times as many manual laborers and farmers as doctors and dentists in the general population. Yet current admissions policies are far from biased against children of working class, farm, or lower middle class origins. The explanation for their relative absence is uncertain, but it is evident that even when direct financial deterrents to attending institutions such as Harvard are removed, growing up in a particular kind of family powerfully influences both the aspirations and the academic abilities of youths. This was undoubtedly true seventy-five or one hundred years ago as well. Although I larvard sought a socially diverse student body, the



POOR BUT HOPKFULL SCHOLARS" mamaad range of variation in the economic status of the parents of its students was necessarily rather limited.

Although it did not provide a precise measure of the strength of the Puritan element, an 1870 survey of student religious preference revealed considerable homogeneity. Almost 80 percent of the 563 undergraduates responding adhered to one of the three faiths that were then in favor with the Yankee upper classâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Unitarianism, Episcopalianism, or Congregationalism, Almost a fifth belonged to other Protestant sects, and there were but seven Roman Catholics and three Jews. T h e small numbers of the latter two groups is not surprising. There were as yet only a handful of Jews in the United States. T h e Catholic population was already fairly substantial, particularly in Boston, but the great majority were impoverished Irish immigrants who could not afford to keep their children out of the job market to finish high school, much less to attend college. The few who were in a position to enter higher education were strongly encouraged by their priests to remain safely within the fold by attending Catholic institutions. That there were no black students at all in the Collegewas also not surprising, given the poverty and illiteracy of the Afro-American population and its concentration in the South. The black presence at Harvard remained almost invisible throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. As a graduate student, W. B.B. DuBois was a Commencement orator in 1890, and another black was named class orator the same year after winning the Boylston Oratorical Contest. But only 160 Afro-Americans studied in the College before 1940, most of them after 1890. In the Eliot years blacks were as well treated at Harvard as at any elite college. President Lowell, on the other hand, was worried about unwise "social commingling," and barred blacks from the dormitories until public opposition made him reverse course in 1923. T h e shift was partial and grudging; black students were segregated from whites in College residences until World War II. T h e main force depressing black enrollment, however, was not a sense that Harvard was unwelcoming but the absence of a sizable pool of black students who could meet the admissions requirements, a situation which changed only with the economic and educational advances made by blacks after World War II.

them the American-born children of immigrants, edged up from 1 percent in 1870 to 4 percent in 1881 and 9 percent in 1908. T h e integration of a substantial Catholic minority provoked very little tension. T h e same cannot be said of the Jews. Although they were a much smaller element of the population than Catholics, exceptional economic mobility and 7xal for learning led them to outnumber Catholics at Harvard by World War I and convinced some that the University had a serious "Jewish problem." Only 1 percent of the student body in 1881 was Jewish; in 1908 it was 7 percent, and in the freshman class that entered in 1922, almost 12 percent. Xenophobic fears of the "new immigrants" in general had been rising since the 1890s, culminating in the racially restrictive immigration laws of 1917, 1921, and 1924. In many quarters Jews were viewed as the most pernicious of all the new immigrantsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;clannish, crass, pushy, and amoral. Anti-Semitism was at an all-time peak in the United States in the 1920s, and Harvard was not unaffected. In 1922 President Lowell publicly called for a limit on "the proportion of Jews at the College," on the grounds that their rising numbers were responsible for the growth of "anti-Semitic feeling among the students." T h e scheme was sharply attacked in the national press and was rejected by a special faculty' committee and by the Overseers. But if Lowell was formally rebuffed, and Harvard remained officially committed to providing "equal opportunity to all, regardless of race and religion," the advocates of exclusion won a veiled victory. T h e controversy ended with the adoption of a new admissions system, one that relaxed standards for students outside the Northeast to obtain a better "regional balance" in the College. The idea of making special allowance for deficiencies in the preparation of students from the less developed regions of the country seemed just, and was in accord with President Eliot's dream of giving Harvard a strong constituency throughout the nation. But in fact the scheme was implemented by cutting admissions from the big city public schools, and it was hardly coincidental that many of these rejects were Jewish. By the close of Lowell's administration in 1933, the proportion of Jewish undergraduates had fallen to about 10 percent. That was still high by comparison with the other Ivy League schools, and it began to climb again after James Bryant Conant took office. Even in 1930, with the results of the new admission system plain to see, a study of anti-Semitism in American universities rated Harvard considerably better than Mile, Princeton, Columbia, Cornell, Johns Hopkins, and Northwestern. Nevertheless, the attempt to impose an open Jewish quota and the adoption of an admissions scheme that had much the same effect should be recalled as a corrective to the self-congratulatory rhetoric that is the staple of most anniversary celebrations. Harvard's reputation for diversity, tolerance, and pluralism rested upon solid foundations, although its record was by no means unblemished. T h e University's treatment of students from varying social classes and ethnic backgrounds reflected its image of itself and society. As those images became ever more inclusive, Harvard welcomed an increasingly diverse company into "the fellowship of educated m e n . " C

Other groups found many more doors open to them in the larger society than did blacks, and as they experienced upward social mobiliry they began co send young men to Harvard. Thus the proportion of Catholics in the student body, most of

Stephmi Thernstrom, Ph.D. '62, is theWinthrop professor of'history at Harvard and chairman of the History of American Civilization Program.


e the herald of Light and the bearer of Love,/Till the stock of the Puritans die." T h e closing lines of "Fair Harvard," written for the bicentennial celebration of 1836, suggested that the College was an extension of the Society of Mayflower Descendants, and that its future depended upon the continuing ascendancy of the first settlers of N e w England. T h e complexion of the antebellum student body was in accord with that insular vision. After the Civil War, under the leadership of that quintessential Puritan, Charles \Y. Eliot. Harvard developed a degree of ethnic and religious diversity that appalled exponents of the "Pair Harvard" ideal. T h e shift toward cosmopolitanism met resistance and suffered some serious setbacks in the 1920s during the administration of A. Lawrence Lowell, but its long-term success was essential to Harvard's continued greatness.

Tim article was adapted ttitm (J/impm tif tke Hatxitnl I'M/. h\ Ik-matd llailyn. I )wtald l-'lemms. Ctstat I lamllin. and Steplian 'lliemurom. Harvard I'nivcrcitv I'ress. Cupvn^hi < I'Wi li\ [he Ptc^ideni and Fellows nf Harvard Qillcgc.



gift of Harvard heritage • Harvard Captain's Chair Designed exclusively for the Coop, this classic Harvard Captain's Chair is a faithful reproduction of the 19th Century original. Constructed of quality northern hardwood with maple finished arms, gold trim and insignia seal. Specify Harvard, Harvard School of Law, Business, Medicine or Radcliffe College. Harvard Insignia Chair, S195 Additional shipping charges will apply.

Limited Edition Wedgwood Plates • Wedgwood commemorates Harvard's 350th Anniversary with a limited edition of exquisitely crafted china. Each IOV2" plate is one of eight 20th Century views of Harvard University in a lovely mulberry rose pattern on cream a n d is cast directly at the Josiah Wedgwood factory in England. Shown: The Widener Library. Views include—Harvard College Gate, Holden Chapel, Hollis Stoughton, Harvard Houses from the Business School, Massachusetts Straus, Library of the School of Business Administration, Memorial Hall a n d Langdell Hall at the Law School. Set of Eight, S200 • Also available from Series I: Northeast View of Harvard College, Holden a n d Hollis Hall, Harvard Yard Looking Northwest, Old Meeting House, Stoughton, Holden a n d Hollis Halls, Massachusetts and Dane Hall, Harvard Law School a n d Westerly View of Harvard College. Set of Eight, $200




Wedgwood plates are only available at the Harvard Square store. The Harvard Chair is available at Harvard Square, M.I.T. Student Center, Coop at Longwood, 333 longwood Ave, Boston, One Federal St., Boston a n d The Business School Coop. Call toll free: 1-800-792-5170 within Mass., 1-800-343-5570 outside Mass. Coop Charge, Mastercard, Visa a n d American Express welcome. Harvard Cooperative Society, Box 234, 1400 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge, MA 02238



v ."^ SSK






ityourmuestments li require more thought, You need the services of a stockbroker whose sophistication matches the markets.

you receive portfolio structuring and investment ideas from an experienced, professional broker. A broker who has at his fingertips the resources of a research department judged to be among the topfiveon Wall Street, year after year. Investors with substantial holdings are And because Kidder, Peabody well aware of the great variety of is one of the nation's leading investinvestments in the market today. And ment banking firms, your broker is because your time is in such demand, able to offer you a wide-and often it is difficult, if not impossible, for you to exclusive-selection of investments give all of them the thought they Over its 120 years, Kidder, deserve-the kind of incisive thought Peabody has earned the reputation of a Kidder, Peabody stockbroker can giving the most sophisticated investors provide. As a Kidder, Peabody client, the careful attention they require-a

fact mirrored in a recent survey showing that over 90% of our clients were not only "extremely satisfied" with their relationship with us, but wanted it to continue. Now that your holdings need a stockbroker who knows the ins and outs of advanced research and sophisticated products, think Kidder, Peabody. Call 1-800-345-8502 Ext. 67 for more information on how Kidder, Peabody can work for you.

H M Kidder, Peabody



Q C o . Incorporated


F ,.• {..1 I M S ti'siltlvrt i\YlN ,i,hf rlmrnruu M.h I J- Li hMtgM , w r T0Mll„niv,.i1^vi,l,/ MrmbrfSlI*




The First 350Years

bv CATHERINE CLINTON As a student of the past and a professor of American history, I am not surprised that the oldest and most distinguished university in the country' has had a long and significant relationship with the female half of the population. 'The fact that Harvard was launched in 1636 as an institution for the education of men by men docs not preclude significant, if not critical, contributions by women. However, as a scholar engaged in revisionism. 1 also am aware that stereotypes and invisibilityâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; shrouded in the proud guise of "traditionalism"â&#x20AC;&#x201D;can inhibit our appreciation of those contributions. In the Harvard University' Archives, women are confined to eleven entries in the card catalogue. Turning to the shelf list, I asked an archivist if the category "Men Known Chiefly for Their Harvard Connection Who Died Before 1940" and its companion, the "After 1940" crowd, were literal or figurative labels. He was so puzzled by my question that I pointedly rephrased: If a woman known chiefly for her connection to Harvard had died and left her papers to the Archives, would I find the collection undet this category or under a separate

heading? T h e young man's withering glance told me all 1 needed to know, but he patiently explained that women had only recently joined the faculty, and if there were any donations by women, they would be included under the category "men." 1 reflected on how this label transformed the pioneering astronomer Williamina Paton Fleming, who in 1898 became the first woman curator at Harvard and left her papers to the Archives, into an "honorary male."'


uried within the official records and tucked away in published memoirs and histories, women's sustaining influences on the College are evident. Excluded from active participation in institutions of higher learning during the colonial era and expected to concern themselves with piety and charity alone, women persisted in finding outlets for their generosity. From the lieginning Harvard attracted the support of female philanthropy. T h e earliest list of benefactors includes the extraordinarily generous Lady Mowlson (Anne Radcliffe), whose gift of ÂŁ100 SF.PTF.MBKK-OCTOBKR 1986



sterling in 1643 was held in England by agents of the colony and distributed R> the College in sums of ÂŁ15 per year. In 1712 President lxvcrett revealed that her donation had compounded to "upward of four hundred pounds." By the early eighteenth century, most benefactors earmarked funds for their own particular causes. In 1730 Mary Saltonstall gave Harvard money to educate men for the church. In 1732 Dorothy Saltonstall donated ÂŁ300 "for the benefit of poor scholars." Women in the early years of the College made contributions consistent with their roles within the larger society. The list of their donations includes sums ranging from three pounds to one thousand. A pattern of generous female philanthropy was well established by the time of the Great Awakening, the religious revivalism that swept the colonies during the 1740s. Some women were indirect benefactors of the College. When printer Jose Glover died on the voyage to New England in 1638, his widow arrived in Massachusetts, the sole owner of the colony's only printing press. Mrs. Glover's many assets induced Harvard president Dunster to marry her. and the printing press, as part of her dower, brought the College great profit during its earliest decades. During Harvard's second century, women's gifts proved critical during a period of extreme financial instability, Sarah Winslow, to promote "religion and good learning." willed half her estate to the College upon her death in 1739. Man,' Lindall, a "single woman." donated ÂŁ100 plus interest for a fund that became known as the Salem Scholarship. Similar gifts from Joanna Alford in 1785, Sarah Derby in 1790, and Rebecca Holbrook in 1793 swelled the coffers. Women's contributions were welcomed by Harvard treasurers. Some College administrators, however, were alarmed by the undergraduates' less than academic interest in women. In 1760 students bemoaned the ban on dancing during Commencement week and the prohibition of postgraduation dinners. Authorities wished to eliminate all unnecessary expenses and undoubtedly hoped to curb raucous revelry. A further damper was introduced when President I lolyoke monitored all Commencement Day speeches "to put an end to the practice of addressing the female sex."


y Harvard's third century, women's roles were diversifying, and their interest in the institution changed dramatically. They continued to give generously: Sarah Jackson's $10,000 for poor and deserving students in 1832, Caroline Plummer's 1854 bequest of $25,000 for a professorship. Eliza Wentworth's donation of 700 volumes to the library in 1857. But by the middle of the nineteenth century, women were not content to remain active only as sympathetic supporters and passive philanthropists. A new generation wished to enter the university that their forcmothers so steadfastly had supported. T h e record clearly indicates that Harvard was not as unwilling to admit women at the beginning of its third century as it was at the outset of its first two. Nevertheless, even the most polite requests for admission by qualified females were regarded by many as a dangerous assault. Harriot K. Hunt had practiced medicine in Boston for fifteen years before she applied for admission to Harvard's Medical School in 1848. Although the faculty was willing to admit her. student protest and other pressures persuaded the administration to reverse its decision and deny Hunt permission to join the entering class. In 1878, a quarter of a century and several hundred female doctors



The Radcliffe Class of 1884, the second to be graduated from what was then called the Society for the Collegiate Instruction of Women.

later, Marion Hovey offered the Medical School $10,000 if they would admit women. T h e funds were refused. The admission of women to the Medical School generated heated L'nivcrsitv debate, with committee reports on this topic submitted in 1867, 1878. and 1893. Although in 1881 the Corporation approved a report favoring women's admission, the Medical School faculty threatened to resign en masse if such a step were taken without sufficient consultation. Protests, consultations, and debates continued into the next century. Not until 1945 did a dozen women join the entering class. Controversy over coeducation was not the exclusive preserve of the Medical School. Harvard was rocked not only by women's repeated attempts to enter its various schools but by the sons of Harvard who echoed feminist demands for access. Harvard Overseer James Freeman Clarke advocated women's admission to the College in 1872 as a way to increase "the means of the University and its power of usefulness." His colleagues on the board were not only distressed by this proposal hut objected to "the agitation of the question." The following year Thomas Wentworth Higginson tackled the issue with an address at the Convention of the Social Science Association in Boston, which Harvard president Charles W. Eliot attended. Higginson argued against the notion of women's intellectual inferiority and belittled popular theories of women's physical frailty. He also demanded proof that intellectual activity would injure women's health. This assault was launched in the same year that Dr. Edward Clarke (a professor emeritus of Harvard) declared in his bestselling text. Sex in Education, that "identical education of the two sexes is a crime before Cod and humanity that physiology protests against and that experience weeps over." Feminists were swift with rebuttals. Julia Ward Howe's Sex and Education (1874) chided: "Dr. Clarke sees disease chiefly in American women. In them reside leuehorrhoea, dysmenorrhoea. amenorrhoea, etc. In them are ateknia. agalactia, ama/.ia. And the reason why they have all these evils is simply this, some of them wish to enter Harvard College." Cornell's president, Andrew White, asserted, "The health of the young women is quite as good in college as out of it." In 1876 Dr. Mary Put-

nam Jacobis careful study " T h e Question of Rest for Women During Menstruation" not only demolished Clarke's theory but won Harvard's Boylston Prize President liliot, plagued with the agitation over coeducation from the beginning of his presidency, did not welcome women to the College or graduate schools. In his first year, the Corporation refused women admission to the Divinity School and to the scientific schools. In his 1869 inaugural address, Eliot reiterated his position that women would not be students in the College or other schools requiring residence near the institution. On the question of women's inferiority, he pointed to women's equality within American homes and speculated that "only after generations of civil freedom and social equality" would data emerge to provide evidence of women's "natural tendencies." Referring to the recently introduced I'niversity Lecturesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;forerunners of Extension coursesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;as the educational opportunity at Harvard appropriate for women, he commented that these would have "no direct professional value, to be sure, but [would] enrich and enlarge both intellect and character." Over the years Eliot earned the scorn of many feminists while fighting off the inevitability of Harvard's opening its doors to women. In 1879 this intransigence led local men and women to organize a nondegree program. Private Collegiate Instruction for Women, taught by Harvard professors. Students Hocked to the institution, and the faculty, too, was enthusiastic, impressed by the liveliness of the women students and appreciative of rhe bonus afforded by repeating lectures to earn extra income. With its incorporation in 1<S82, the Society for the Collegiarc Insrmction of Women granted A.B. certificates to its graduates and appointed Elizabeth Gary Agassi/, president. T h e institution was now known as the "Harvard Annex." An-

Klizabeth C a r y Agassiz, first president of Radcliffe. nex founders hoped that Harvard would relent and absorb their nourishing enterprise: its student body had grown from a hardy band of 38 pioneers to 263 by 1893, But Eliot and the Corporation remained inflexible, opposing any establishment of a formal "women's department" for Harvard. So Radcliffe College, named after Harvard's first woman benefactor, incorporated as a separate entity in 1894. The dimensions of this development remain with Harvard today. T h e fury Annex feminists expressed because Harvard

would only agree to countersign Radcliffe degrees rather than grant women Harvard degrees has been handed down from one generation to the next, although discontent has been channeled into other areas. T h e hostility between separatists and integrationists remains at the core of current debates concerning women's education.


lthough the battle over undergraduate admissions had been lost, women continued their fight for graduate education, and in 1894 Radcliffe students were admitted to a restricted number of Harvard graduate courses. Mary Whiton Calkins, who had received her B.A. from Smith and taught Creek at Wellesley, enrolled in graduate courses at liars aril. She studied with William James, Josiah Royce, and Hugo Miinsterberg, passing her Ph.D. examination with distinction in 1895. The I'niversity refused to grant her the doctoral degree. Administrators at Radcliffe once again were forced to take matters into their own hands, and the Radcliffe Ph.D. was inaugurated in 1902. This debate was not without its effects upon Harvard. In 1898 it was announced that Harvard would appoint women as members of four of the twenty visiting committees to the I'niversity. This was heralded in the Boston Sunday Journal as departing from "time-honored traditions." At the same time. Harvard's first woman curator was appointed. Williamina Paton Fleming, born and educated in Scotland, had joined the Observatory' in 1881 and became an internationally recognized expert in the field of fifth type stars (stars with bright lines in their spectra). At the time of her curatorial appointment there were only seventy such stars reported, and Fleming had discovered over fifty of them. Much later Fleming was succeeded by Annie Jump Cannon, who served for years as a researcher before being given rhe title of Bond Astronomer in 1938 at the age of 74. Cannon was the first woman to receive an honorary doctorate from Oxford and to be elected to office in the American Astronomical Society, but she was never given a tenured professorship despite her years of research ar I larvard.

Harvard's doubts about the qualifications of women scholars also affected decisions at Radcliffe. In 1904 President Briggs of Radcliffe asked the chairman of the academic board to make an exception, in the case of Ethel Puffer, to the rule that all Radcliffe courses be offered by Harvard instructors. Although Puffer did not have a Corporation appointment, Briggs wanted her to teach a course on aesthetics ("a subject which a woman is eminently fitted to teach") and reminded chairman William Byerly that "Santayana will not offer it at Radcliffe." I le went on to argue that no less an authority than Professor I logo Mtinsterberg testified that Puffer was a recognized authority throughout the country and possibly throughout the world: "If she were not a woman, he says, she would be teaching in Harvard College to-day." Byerly replied, "When Harvard invites Miss Puffer to give a course in the University I shall favor her giving a course in Radcliffe. but not till then." Quite clearly, from the cases of Cannon and Puffer. Harvard not only was unwilling to appoint women to the faculty but was inclined to bar qualified scholars as well, because they happened to be women. This crippling sexism in its many manifestations was a point of pride for too many associated with Harvard at the turn of the century. Professor Barrett Wendell, who had a long and distinguished career at the College, chaired a Committee on Relations Between I larvard and SKITKMBKR-OCIOHKH 1986


W O M E N & H A R V A R D continued

Radcliflc College in 1898. In 1919 Wendell wrote. "The Report, and my comment on it perhaps too, had the result of preventing any further unobserved encroachment by Radcliftc on Harvard. So I have always felt that my work on this committee, by saving Harvard from coeducation through at least twenty years, was perhaps the most far reaching I ever did there."


uring these same twenty years, American society underwent dramatic social change. When a group of seventy Radcliflc students were assigned a theme in 1885 on the enfranchisement of women, only two in the class, Maud Wood and Inez Haynes, wrote in favor of women's suffrage. They went on to organize the first chapter of the College Equal Suffrage League in 1900, and both became devout suffragists. But not only the women students were involved in such efforts. Samuel A. Eliot Jr. '13 reported his involvement in the cause. He remembered his meeting with President Lowell when the Corporation excluded Kmmeline Pankhursr from a Harvard hall, recollecting that "the President walked about and kicked the andirons, trying to make out a general rule that had plainly been devised just to meet this particular proposal, while we two boys sat tight, feeling in a definitely superior position." Eliot confessed his primary loyalty was to the Socialist Club, but he did march with the I larvard Mens League for Women's Suffrage in the spring of 1914. Eliot recalled: "The banner-bearer, probably the president, then was a tall handsome artist chap named Hale. There were rumors against his moralsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;as there had been against mine. We marched in cap and gown, and one onlooker's comment was, 'Look at the skirts.' " But the cat-callers were overcome and women's suffrage was ratified in 1919. just as Harvard's all-male faculty was forced to come to grips with appointing a female professor. T h e Boston papers proclaimed "The Last Citadel Has Fallen" when the Harvard Medical School offered Alice Hamilton the first of a scries of three-year appointments as an assistant professor in industrial medicine, a field she had pioneered. Hamilton accepted with high hopes, writing in March 1919, "Going to Harvard is very grand. If one could wear it as a decoration, like the Order of the Garter, I would love it." But the battle was not over, and Hamilton's years at Harvard were not without painful skirmishes. Despite her faculty status, she was denied access to the Harvard Club and tickets to the football games. Her invitation to Commencement annually included the handwritten warning, "Under no circumstances may a woman sit on the platform." Hamilton did not preoccupy herself with these indignities but continued her academicwork. When in 1935 she turned 65, the mandated retirement age. Harvard lost its only female faculty member. Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin was appointed the Phillips Astronomer in 1938, but she would have to wait nearly twenty years before being advanced to the rank of professor. PayncGaposchkin, born and educated in England, had been the first person to receive a Ph.D. for work done at the Harvard Observatory. Her dissertation. Stellar Atmospheres, published in 1925, was Monograph No. 1 in the Harvard Observatory scries. Along similar lines, Henrietta M. Larson earned her Ph.D. at Columbia in 1926 before joining the Harvard Business School as a research assistant in 1928. She co-authored the Casebook in American Business History and wrote all 5,000 entries 12d


Above: A chemistry laboratory al Harvard, circa 1910. Opposite, clockwise from top left: Astronomer Annie .lump Cannon, for years a researcher, never tenured; Dr. Alice Hamilton, a Medical School faculty member, not welcome at

for the Guide to Business History during her long career. She was associated with the Graduate School of Business .Administration for over thirty years before she was promoted to a full professorship in 1959. With her retirement in 1961 the number of tenured women at the Business School returned to zero. T h e examples and careers of these few women professors demonstrate that male (acuity were the rule well beyond the era when qualified and internationally renowned women emerged. T h e first woman tutor, Mary Hume Maguirc, earned her Ph.D. in 1923 and was appointed to the department of history, government, and economics in 1925, but only a bare handful of these posts were occupied by women before the 1960s. When Harvard opened a faculty club in January 1931, few accommodations for women members or guests were made. A ladies'sitting room on the second floor was used very little and was eventually turned into a reception room. Club historian Mason Hammond comments: "The club was originally male oriented. Ladies had open to them only the limited facilities of the rear entrance, a small sitting room between the back of the main lobby and the rear entrance, and the north dining room." Hammond goes on to report that limited facilities for women were "no longer equal" to the accommodations for men when membership was opened to more women after World War II. In 1958 the managing board voted to open all areas of the club to women except the main lounge on the ground floor. It is interesting to note that this last preserve fell not because of feminism but because of another form of modernization: when the small ladies' sitting room on the ground floor was sacrificed to install an elevator in 1966, the d u b relented and gave women equal access to the lounge. T h e sense of embattlement is reflected in Hammonds comment that "the long table |a banquet trestle in the center dining room] has so far seldom been invaded by ladies." The era between the World Wars was a time of important social transformation for women. Radcliffe's student body shifted from its local and commuter majority to a more diversified communirv of women. During the 1930s Radcliflc had a

graduates caught smoking on the street might be subject to expulsion. T h e main reading room o f Widcncr was finally opened to women in the late Forties, although Lament L i brary remained closed to women until 1967. In 1946 a basement room of Memorial Church was set aside as the Radclifte Sanctuary, where women might come for box lunches and relaxation between classes. Visitors to the sanctuary were also given maps of the Yard with women's bathrooms clearlymarked for their convenience. Renamed the Radcliffe Room, this facility lasted until Lamont was opened to women.

the H a r v a r d C l u h or at football games; historian I lelen Maud C a m , the first Z c m u r r a y - S t o n e professor and I harvard's first tenured w o m a n (1947); astronomer Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin, the first female department head (1956).

higher percentage of Jewish undergraduates than Mount l l o l yoke, Wellcsley, Vassar, and Smith. In addition, while Vassar, Bryn Mawr. and Barnard pursued a policy of exclusion o f black students, Radclifte, along with Wellcsley and Smith, welcomed them. Radclifte was able to attract some outstanding black women despite the fact that the majority of blacks attending college went to black schools. In 1921 Eva B. Dykes earned her doctoral degree from Radcliffe, one of only three black female Ph.D.'s in the country.


uch changes at Radclifte were small compared with the transformation that Harvard would undergo. During the first half of its fourth century, women and Harvard would renegotiate the terms o f their relationship in many, if not in all, areas. The women's "invasion" was perhaps formally recognized by the 1943 Harvard and Radclifte agreement whereby all courses at Harvard were opened to Radclifte women, and many of these classes were coeducational. (In 1947 all courses became coeducational, with the rare exception of large Freshman courses, which were integrated by the mid-Fifties.) As mentioned earlier, the Medical School agreed in 1945 to admit women, and a hardy band o f females entered the Harvard Law School in 1950. Helen M . Sawyer's application to the Law School in 1871 had stirred up about as much trouble as I hint's had to the Medical School in 1848, and like H u n t , Sawyer was never admitted. When a group of Radclifte alumnae applied for admission to the Law School in the 1920s. Dean Ezra Ripley Thayer responded, " I can find no argument which my reason respects, but 1 intend to vote against y o u . " T h e School o f Education, which opened in 1920. was the first department of the University to admit women to regular standing. By 1926 half of the students were women.

Despite the progress overall, women suffered numerous setbacks on their road to equal access. Radcliffe President W.K. Jordan would welcome each year's entering class by telling them that their education would prepare them for marriage and maternity: a Harvard husband was designated as their reward. In 1966 a Harvard undergraduate poll concerning opening Lamont to women undergraduates revealed that 62 percent opposed any access and 19 percent approved of limiting women's access to weekdays from nine to five. O n l y 19 percent of Harvard's male undergraduates welcomed women unconditionally. Despite such obstacles, however. Harvard degrees were awarded to Radclifte students in 1965, and women were admitted to the Harvard Graduate School o f Arts and Sciences. In 1970 a first j o i n t Commencement was held. In 1971 the Radclifte and Harvard house systems were unified, and in 1975 an equal access admissions policy was adoptetl. Harvard and Radclifte have not merged, but in 1971 and 1977 they made agreements for sharing responsibilities and privileges. Harvard continues to oversee primarily undergraduate education, while Radcliffe builds on its strengths for graduate research and fellowship with the Bunting Institute, the Schlesinger Library, and the Murray Research Centerâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;internationally recognized resources for scholarship bv and about women. Radclifte retains its separate corporate status and endowment, hut all women admitted to Radclifte are enrolled in I larvard, with the rights and privileges o f I larvard undergraduates. T h i s "non-merger" creates a unique status for both male and female undergraduates of Harvard-Radcliffe. It allows Radclifte to maintain its own alumnae while offering Harvard the opportunity of coeducation.


T h e lace Forties and Kitties were trying rimes for women in higher education. Although Radclifte women were given equal access to the classroom, they found themselves restricted in other ways. Shortly after the end of the war. debates raged over the prohibition on "smoking in public"; Radclifte under-

n 1974 Radcliffe President Marina Homer reported to alumnae that "women have been increasingly welcomed to the bench of the pupil at Harvard, but the absence of women on the faculty and in high administrative positions has given a very strong message to women that they were not simultaneously welcome to the chair of the professorship." Alice Hamilton left Harvard, still an assistant professor, in 1935. N o t until 1947, when the Samuel Zemurray Jr. and Doris Zemurray Stone Radcliffe professorship was endowed, did a woman hold a tenured teaching position at Harvard. T h r e e women have held the chair: historian Helen Maud ( l a m , from 1948 to 1954; anthropologist Cora DuBois, from 1954 to 1969; and classical art historian Kmily Townsend Vermeulc, since 1970.

Helen Maud Cam was a groundbrcakcr in many ways. She came from Cambridge University equipped with a formidable reputation as a scholar and teacher. She attended Harvard Morning Prayers, the first female to do so since the dailv service was instituted in 1638. She faithfully attended faculty meetings and served on several University committees. When



W O M E N & H A R V A R D continued

she retired to England her departmental chair reported, "So happy has been [our] first experience with a woman colleague that Harvard historians, no doubt with excessive optimism, look forward to the time when a Zemurray professor, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, will be standard equipment for all academic departments." The hope that the Zemurray professorship would lead to the appointment of tenured women in other departments was justified in one case. In 1956 Cecilia Paync-Gaposehkin was elevated to full professorship and became the first woman chair of a Harvard department. With Payne-Gaposchkin's retirement in 1966, C o n DuBois, the Zemurray professor, was the sole tenured woman in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, while Yale reported two female full professors; Stanford, three; Brown, five; and Columbia, seven. A report released in 1970 on the topic of women faculty revealed dismal statistics. During the 1969-70 academic year, none of the 444 permanent faculty were women (Emily V'crmeule was appointed in 1970-71). All 39 of the associate professors were male, and only nine of the 194 assistant professors were female. Thirty-six of the 233 lecturers were women, but many held administrative posts, research positions, or parttime teaching appointments. With each passing year the numbers continue to improve, but it is striking that a 1980 report, "Sex Discrimination in the Graduate and Professional Schools," placed an increase of women Faculty at the top of its list of recommendations to improve the quality of women's education. T h e 1980 survey of graduate women found that discontent rested not just with numbers but with the atmosphere of male superiority that some women believed interfered with their

HARVARD AND WOMHN TODAY Undergraduates GSAS students tntcnured faculty (I'AS) Tenured faculty (FAS)




6,413 2,444

3,764 1.643


221 364

164 341

799 37


education. Although only 25 percent of the student respondents complained about faculty discrimination in their first year, this percentage jumped to 59 percent of those beyond the first year. Complaints ranged from sexist jokes to comments on appearance, from faculty advising students not to apply for competitive teaching posts to demands for sexual favors. Students in particular fields were discouraged as well by the exclusion of material on women from reading and course materials. T h e report also urged the growth and expansion of women's studies at I larvard. T h e establishment of the Committee on Women's Studies in 1978 led to an intensive effort to explore the possibility of women's studies as an enterprise at Harvard. Harvard is currently one of two Ivy League colleges without a women's studies program. T h e other, Columbia, has only recently admitted women (and, it should be noted, Columbia College students may avail themselves of the many rich offerings at its neighboring institution, Barnard Collegeâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a leader in women's studies). T h e current committee, however, has high hopes 12H


that the situation at Harvard will be remedied now that the faculty includes such nationally recognized experts as Diana L. Kck, Susan R. Suleiman, and Barbara Johnson teaching or researching women's studies specialties. T h e emergence of this core of scholars, combined with the superb resources afforded by both I b n ard and Radelitfe, doubtless will promote such an enterprise.


arvard remains a place that signifies much to many. With each new generation, with each reconstruction and deconstruction of the institution, we learn more about the possibilities of an Cver-evorving present that embraces the past while keeping an eye toward the future. T h e first year I joined the history department, I was confronted at a Harvard Club lecture on the West Coast by a questioner who wanted to know if 1 thought a woman faculty member could be pregnant and teach at Harvard at the same time. I replied that 1 thought it much more likely for a woman faculty member than for any male faculty member I knew. Although it was an abstract point at the time, it would become a much more vivid issue the following year when I gave birth in the middle of the fall term. To my delight, it was a pleasure to both teach and be pregnant at Harvard; class attendance was excellent all semester in anticipation of my delivery. With maternity policy and parental leave on the books, with dual career couples discussed in the dean's report. Harvard's vocabulary may no longer need to include the designation of "honorary male." In the half-century since the Tercentenary (when Harvard was referred to as a "she," bestowing the favor of honorary degrees exclusively on 62 men), our appreciation of gender dynamics has expanded both within the University and throughout the larger society. As Harvard accumulates wisdom with age and increasingly recognizes achievement without regard to the sex of the achiever, wc need to recapture through historical memory the many women who have supported and shaped Harvard over the years, as well as those men who have prodded the institution on women's behalf. Our lives have been enriched by rhe examples of both the dynamic Helen Keller (who in addition to her many other accomplishments was the first woman to receive an honorary degree from Harvard) and the righteous Thomas Wentworth Higginson, who proposed in 1873, "If Harvard College wants to draw back within the line of certain theories and her own conceptions, let her disgorge the contributions of the state"â&#x20AC;&#x201D; a prophecy of Title IX to come. We are witness every day to such visible contributions as Anne K.P Severs 1879 donation of $100,000 for Sever Hall and Eleanor EOdns Widcncr's $3.5 million gift to build a library, but we remain unaware of the anonymous others w hose perseverance helped transform the University. T h e sons of I larvard will be well remembered as we celebrate three hundred and fifty years of learning and improvement here on the banks of the Charles. Yet we need also to honor the generations of women who have given unstinting support to the ideal of excellence that 1 larvard, without the shackles of sexism, can and will fulfill. \J

Catherine Clinton '73 is an assistantprofessor of history at Harvard. She is the author of The Plantation Mistress: Woman's World in the Old South; T h e Other Civil War; American Women in the Nineteenth Century; mid a forthcoming study of fanny Kcmble for Harvard I 'niversitx Press.

CONSIDER ATRADITION OF FINANCIAL COUNSEL OLDER THAN THE U.S. DOLLAR. State Street has been providing quality financial services since 1792. That's two years longer than the dollar has been the official currency of the United States. During that time, we have managed the assets of some of New England's wealthiest families. And provided investment advice and performance tailored to each client's individual goals and needs. Today our Personal Trust department can extend that service to you in terms of investment programs, tax and estate planning, real estate management, and valuation of

family or closely-held businesses. We've been helping people manage their money for almost 200 years. And you can only stay in business that long by offering advice of the highest quality. Let us help you get the highest performance from your assets. To enjoy today and to pass on to future generations. For more information contact Peter Talbot at 617-654-3227. State Street. Known for quality.SM

State Street

State Street Bank and Trust Company, wholly-owned subsidiary of State Street Boston Corporation, 225 Franklin Street, Boston, MA ()21U1. Offices in Boston, New York, Los Angeles, London, Munich, Brussels. Zurich, Sydney, Hong Kong. Member FDIC. ŠCopyright State Street Boston Corporation, 1986.

The only Vodka imported from Russia.






o matter how you drink it Stoli's smoothness comes through.

FOR GIFT DELIVERY ANYWHERE'CALL1-(B00)-23W373. 'Except where prohibited. Major credit cards accepted. Stolichnaya Vodka 80 and 100 proof,distilled from grain. Imported by Monsieur Henri Wines, Ltd..White Plains,NY 10K


UNDISCIPLINABLES What has happened to the Colleges heritage of heresy?



n a postmodern America of iconoclastic traditionalists, sagebrush rebels, and shrewdly marketed neos of the left and right, it would take a desperate call for volunteers to find a conscious ally of the status quo, an acknowledged member of the power elite, or a self-styled professor of the conventional wisdom. No institution is better adapted to this looking-glass world of ideology than Harvard, for no other American university has such a heritage of heresy to balance its spontaneous affection for the rich and powerful of the earth. Even among Harvard people, it's not so easy to say who is the true nonconformist. Fully six years after the election of Ronald Reagan as president, conservatives regard themselves as a hardy band of activists matching wits with the fossilized Sixties attitudes of media, academia, and bureaucracy. Hasn't the former "fiscal Puritan" Caspar Weinberger '38, J.D. '41, attacked entrenched liberal dogmas about military spending with revolutionary gusto? In his previous incarnation as a professor at Harvard Law School, Solicitor General Charles Fried may have been "a field marshal of the right" (in a liberal colleague's phrase) during faculty battles; but in asking the Supreme Court to reverse its own legalization of abortion in Roe v. Wade, isn't he showing a refreshing skepticism about the legal shibboleth of precedent? And isn't Accuracy in Academia, directed by John LeBoutillier '76, M.B.A. '79, an effort to protect powerless undergraduates from abuses of authority by arrogant tenured leftists? It seems that for Harvard conservatives as for others, only rebellion is now legitimate. This paradox is new. Once, not so long ago, conservatives were delighted to be the party of order; and until relatively recently Harvard was proud to be the school of local, regional, and national Establishments. Significantly, for all its Kennedy connections, Harvard still has no building, program, chair, fellowship, or scholarship named for Franklin D. Roosevelt '04, in remarkable contrast to Princeton's Woodrolatry. As Ronald Story has written of Harvard in The Forging of an Aristocracy, "[Nlowhcrc else . . . was the faculty so subservient to the dictates of wealth and power or was its limited exercise of authority so contingent upon its own possession of wealth and connections" in the first three-quarters of the nineteenth century. Massachusetts Governor Calvin Coolidgc declared—after more than two hundred Harvard men answered the University's appeal for volunteer replacements during the 1919 Boston police strike—that "Harvard

will lead the way, as she has many times in the past, and mould a public opinion that will make impossible a recurrence of riot and anarchy." He added that "the students of Harvard do not sympathize with those who arc seeking to lower the dignity and power of the state." Still, Harvard's devotion to the powers that be has not always been reciprocated; sometimes the place has seemed a not entirely trustworthy partner. When Charles IPs commissioners reported in 1664 that the College was likely to continue furnishing "schismatics to the Church" and "rebels to the King," they were recognizing a disruptive side of Harvard that has outlasted Puritan oligarchy and British sovereignty alike. Harvard's individualists have gone by many names. In his famous Commencement dinner address of 1903, "The True Harvard," William James called her "truth-seeking and independent and often very solitary sons" the Undisciplinablcs, and the University itself "a nursery for independent and lonely thinkers." In a similar spirit, Walter Lippmann '10 placed his classmate John Reed among "the intractables, to whom the organized monotony and virtue of our civilization are unbearable." James, at least, may have been too kind to Harvard's nonconformists. Some, like Sir George Downing, ('lass of 1642—

A Midnight Fray With Watchmen, by the young Washington Allston, Class of 1800, shows H a r v a r d students on the town. SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


T H E U N D I S C I P L I N A B L E S continued

Far left, top: An early scoundrel, George Downing. Bottom: Newspaperman William Randolph Hearst and Marion Davies in 1942. Left: "Putzi" Hanfstaengl, Hitler's march-maker, at the 1974 Commencement. Ahove: Pillar of cafe society Lucius Beebe (eyes closed) at the tables in Reno in 1948.

Harvard's second graduate and developer of Downing Street—were colorful scoundrels. Downing, a spymaster under the Commonwealth, betrayed three regicides to obtain his Restoration baronetcy, gave his aged mother a starvation allowance, and provoked rioting in the Netherlands by his mere presence as ambassador. T h e notorious Thomas Bell, of the Class of 1734, was expelled for repeated theft but used his (College experience well as an itinerant confidence man. "His Discourse is polite," the sheriff of Charlestown reported after Bell's escape from jail there, "and he is of a spritely Look and Gesture." Writing of his classmates, John Reed recalled "all sorts of strange characters, of every race and mind, poets, philosophers, cranks of every twist." By then, however, Harvard had three often mutually hostile traditions of indiscipline: Barbarianism, Bohcmianism, and Dissent. T h e first w o have usually been flippant and cavalier, the third earnest and roundhead. The first has generally been rightist or apolitical, the second two leftist. T h e first and third began in colonial days, the second in the late nineteenth century.


he Barbarians, anarchic gilded youth, assaulted middle-class values with outrageous gestures from above. In so naming the Knglish aristocracy, Matthew Arnold called to mind the "staunch individualism" of the European tribes, "that passion for doing as one likes, for the assertion of personal liberty." Most of Harvard's Barbarians were drawn from that upper crust known as the "high fellows" in the 1820s and as the "white men" in the 1930s, but only a few of the undergraduate social elite distinguished themselves as members of this tradition. Even more than Oxford and Cambridge, with their undergraduate curfews and spike-topped college walls, Harvard has been the paradise of the defiant toff. Louisburg Square and , Scollay Square placed the best of urban high life and low life within a short trip of the College. Congenial nineteenth-century presidents steadily reduced required chapel attendance— 132


an inconvenience after a night on the town—and even mandatory courses. Charles W. Eliot's elective system, as John Reed later observed, carried individualism "to the point where a man who came for a good time could get through and graduate without having learned anything." Lavish private dormitories and stately clubhouses flourished on Mount Auburn Strcer. Often innately clever, the Barbarians were wont to lose patience with the tutelage of a faculty they considered their social inferiors. While Harvard's eighteenth-century and earlyninctecnth-century disturbances involved students of all backgrounds, those from leading families were often in the vanguard. The painter Washington Allston, ('lass of 1800, an Undisciplinable of a different sort, included .1 Midtrig/it Fray 11//// Watchmen in his satirical scries The Ruck's Progress. The Great Rebellion of 1823 occurred when one of the obedient undergraduates informed against a "high fellow"; one of those expelled was John Adams, of the Class of 1823. despite the protests of his father, John Quincy Adams, Class of 1787. Like the Incroyablcs of Thermidor and the dandies of Evelyn Waugh's Oxford, Barbarians have combined high spirits with reactionary sentiments. And like Hilaire Helloes John Vavassour dc Quentin Jones, they are fascinated by "the Sound of Broken Glass." Expulsion holds no terror for them, and payment of the damages can come from home. As one Widencr graffiti exchange of the late Sixties read: Till-: FACULTY ARE THE EMPLOYEES OF THE STUDENTS

. . . to which someone added an apostrophe and the word PARENTS.

The Barbarians gathered not only in the final clubs but in drinking fraternities like the so-called Med. Eac. a mockMasonic society founded in 1818 and finally suppressed only in 1909, having required for membership (according to Samuel Eliot Morison '08) "some act that if discovered would have resulted in expulsion from the University." Its interwar counterpart, the Michael Mullins Chowder and Marching Society, donned Nazi and other outlandish regalia in July 1934 to dis-

Left: Bizarre bohemian Harry Crosby and bis wife, Mary, just after their marriage, in 1922. Above: Trickster Norman Mailer. Right, top: Seagull manque Joe Gould. Bottom: Gertrude Stein Gertrude Slein Gertrude Stein.

aipt Harvard's first peace strike, staging at one point an automobile parade featuring a real machine gun. The Mullins men cheered the appointment as 1934 Commencement marshal of Ernst Fran/. "Purzi" Ilanfstaengl '09, a Munich art publisher's son and a Sedgwick on his mother's

In the golden age of the Barbarians, from the 1880s to the Second World War, outrages were almost an art form. side, who had made up for relatively peaceful undergraduate years by stepping to a different drummer indeedâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;all the way into the Reich Chancery. "My music compositions." he noted in his class's 25th anniversary report, "mostly marches for the Nazis, are published bv Bote and Hock, Leipzigcrstrasse, Berlin." In the golden age of the Barbarians, from the 1880s to the Second World War, outrages were almost an art form. At a Boston appearance of Oscar Wilde in 1JSS2, one Harvard group bought the first two rows of scats and came dressed in the black velvet jackets and knee breeches Wilde was known to favor. (Wilde had heard of this prank and turned up in conventional attire, beginning his lecture with mock satisfaction at seeing "that the small seed that I have had the honor to sow has borne its fruit.") Henri de Castcllane, a European blade who arrived at the opera with liveried outriders, celebrated his dismissal in 1925 by organizing a thrcc-day procession to escort himself to a French Line ship in Providence. His admirer Lucius Beebe '27, expelled from Mile either for smashing the windows of the dean of students' office or for offending the dean of the divinity school with an anti-Prohibition article, was forced from Harvard after breaking a bookcase over a class-

mate's head. And William Randolph Hearst, of the Class of 1886, was fired for having emblazoned the name and portrait of each of his professors on chamber pots, gaily wrapped and brought to the recipient's home on Christmas Day by special messenger. Harvard's Barbarians, perhaps more than their Oxbridge counterparts, tended to become respectable citizens; Hearst and Bccbe were among the few who, like Downing, blossomed into memorable characters in their maturity. Beebe became a celebrated society columnist, railroad writer and photographer, and bon vivt/nt. living the conviction that he "would rather be a bright leaf on the stream of a dying civilization than a fertile seed dropped in the soil of a new era." ("His politics are strictly Republican." his entry in the 1940 Current Riogmphy reads: "He has no patience with organized labor and is repelled by the American Newspaper Guild, which he calls 'shabby, degraded, and spurious.'")


ohemians are a more recent element than Barbarians or Dissenters among Harvard Indisciplinables. Not until the 1880s were Harvard men seriously attracted to the taverns and cafes of Greenwich Village, it seems. Vet the very concept is now as quaint and remote as that of the Schoolman and the Philosophe. Bohemians are a mixture of old Harvard blood (Joseph Ferdinand Gould '11, E.E. Cummings '15, R. Buck-

minster Fuller '17, and Harry Crosby '22,), well-off non-New Englanders (Gertrude Stein '98, John Reed '10, and William Burroughs '36), and defiant outsiders (Norman Mailer '43). What the Med. F a c , Mullins Society, and himpoon were to the Barbarians, the Signet and Advocate have been to the Bohemians. Bohemians, in sharp contrast to Barbarians and even more than Dissenters, were actually inspired by members of the faculty. Lee Simonson '09, the great stage designer, wrote in his autobiography that when asked where he went to college, he was always inclined to reply, "I went to Santayana." If Barbarians turned respectable soon after graduation, BoheSEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


T H E U N D I S C I P L I N A B L E continued

Far left, top: Royalist Mather Byles. Bottom: Walden's H.D. Thoreau. I .eft, top: Civil libertarian Roger Baldwin. Bottom: John LeBoutillier, advocate of accuracy. Right: Marxist John Reed, center, political pundit Walter Lippmann, standing, and poet ("I have a rendezvous with Death") Alan Seeger, in 1910.

mians devoted themselves to preserving the feckless spiritedness of student life well into adulthood. Bohemians were attracted to many of the same undergraduate amusements as the Barbarians. T h e Oregonian John Reed sought openly, and therefore lost all chance of, admission to the final clubs. (Reed's career, which owed far more to Theodore Roosevelt's example than to Lenin's, was one of the first to show how transmutablc magisterial ambition and romantic rebellion can be.) R. Buckminstcr Fuller was expelled from Harvard twice, first forspending his tuition and expenses on a parry for the Ziegfeld Follies cast, then for "lack of sustained interest in the processes within the University." Comfortable origins and a Harvard education were not prerequisites for the Bohemians, of course, but they helped. As a critic said of William Burroughs, "the dull respectability of his milieu seems to have engendered a predilection for the outlaw, the deviant." "I knew how to get dope," John Reed boasted of his life in New York after graduation and European

"I knew how to get dope," John Reed boasted.... "I went to gangsters' balls at Tammany Hall." travel: "where to go to hire a man to kill an enemy; what to do to get into gambling rooms, and secret dance halls. . . . I went to gangsters'balls at Tammany Hall. . . ." Harry Crosby '22— self-consciously satanic poet, proprietor of the Black Sun Press, and the most bizarre and self-destructive of the Twenties literary expatriates—found in "the chains of New England" (St. Mark's School and Harvard's A.D. Club included) a perfect foil for his opium pipe and the charms of a thirteenyear-old Berber dancing girl. Harvard Bohemians sometimes were able to offend even 134


their fellow individualists. Joe Gould—for decades a gnomelike hanger-on of Greenwich Village who cadged drinks on the pretext of writing a vast oral history of his times and was famous for his seagull imitation—mocked the salon leftism of the Village's bourgeois literati.


either decadence nor disorder appealed to the third and most celebrated element of Harvard Undisciplinables: the Dissenters. William Roscoe Thayer, Class of 1881, celebrated in a 1914 essay those Harvard men who "brave ridicule or social ostracism, poverty or peril to life and limb, in defense of principles hateful to their community." This makes the Dissenters the most ancient of the Undisciplinable traditions. As Samuel Eliot Morison wrote of the forced resignation of Henry Dunstcrin 1654: "The news that the President of Harvard had gone 'antipaedobaptist' aroused as much consternation . . . as if President Conant should announce his adherence to the Third International." (Postponing baptism to adulthood, a practice then limited to sects considered dangerously radical, seemed to threaten the very idea of a Christian commonwealth as the Puritans understood it.) Yet dissent was not always so clear-cut. At what point in American independence do Harvard's loyalists—about 20 percent of its graduates, according to one estimate—become the mavericks and outcasts? Mather Byles, Class of 1725, grandson of Increase Mather and a distinguished minister and poet infamous for his puns, lived under house arrest for his British allegiance, watched by an armed guard he called his "observca-Tory," but he risked punishment as harsh as anything the patriots had faced. T h e same Thoreau who became an idol of communitarian youth in the Sixties was described in his own time, by Emerson, as "a practical answer, almost a refutation, to the theories of the socialists." Until recently Harvard's Dissenters were seldom troublesome as students. Samuel Adams, of the Class of 1740. seems to have been admonished but once—for oversleeping. The diligent young Thomas Wilson Dorr, Class of 1823, leader of

Left: Troopers clear University Hall of student occupiers on the morning of April 10, 1969. Above: Daniel Kllsberg, charged with espionage, and wife, Patricia, meet the press.

the radical Rhode Island movement for suffrage reform that became the armed Dorr Rebellion in the early 1840s, was one of the few members of his class who sided with University authorities in the disturbances of 1820. (Scornful classmates put him on the blacklist and burned his shower bath in the Yard.) Young Henrv David Thoreau, Class of 1837. "had no animal spirits for our sport or mischief," a leader of the Dunkin Rebellion of 1834 recalled; he was one of only nineteen of his class of 63 who were never disciplined. Of conditions a hundred years later, Arthur M. Schlcsinger Jr. '38 remembered that "the most revolutionary radicals of the Thirties obediently wore the jacket and tie required in the dining halls and observed without protest parietal rules of a stringency and absurdity that would be incomprehensible today." Two years into his graduate studies, Daniel Kllsberg '52 waived his student deferment and enlisted in the Marines. PlOtn the generation of John Reed and Walter Lippmami through that of Malcolm Cowley and even Norman Mailer, political protest and artistic innovation were mixed. But this was not always so. As Emerson wrote of the radical anti-slavery Transccndcrualist Theodore Parker ("our Savonarola"), member of the Divinity School's Class of 1836: "He was no artist. Highly refined persons might easily miss in him the element of beauty." In fact, of the heretics, patriots, Transcendentalists, abolitionists, and anti-imperialists that Thayer named as Harvard's "Radicals," it is hard to find one whose aesthetictastes or personal life offended proper Boston. On Samuel Adams's death a contemporary noted his having "preserved the severity of Cato in his manners, and the dogmatism of a priest in his religious observances."


t first glance the Harvard strike of 1969 seems to be the last stand of the Undisciplinables. Worried nonparticipants sought comfort in the annals of Harvard disturbances that had come and gone. And, in fact, none of the outrages, except for physical contact with administrators, was new, not even the undergraduates' bloodiest thoughts. "Until Widencr is blown

up," John Dos Passos '16 had written to a friend a year after graduation, "and A. Lawrence Lowell assassinated and the Business School destroyed and its site sowed with salt—no good will come out of Cambridge." Still, there were important changes—and not only in the scale of demonstrations. Undisciplinable roles were suddenly permuted. T h e well-off young rowdies who might once have constituted the Barbarians now dominated, as self-styled Maoists, the occupation of University Hall. (A contemporary recalls two Old Grotonian members of Students for a Democratic Society wrestling for control of the SDS bullhorn on the steps as the sit-in and orators' continued.) Dissenters cut classes and smoked dope. As John T. Bethell '54, editor of Harvard Magazine, wrote in retrospect, polities had become "the bohemianism of their time." T h e "Emersonian doctrine of self-reliance" that the Crimson had found in Harvard's coolness to student movements in 1936 yielded to novel sentiments of solidarity even with non-Harvard youth. Earlier Harvard rioters had fought against the townies; far from revolting against the University's position as a privileged enclave, they had Haunted it. Now one leftist professor could announce—sympathetically, if prematurely—that "Cambridge may be the first place to have a true worker-student alliance." Even more novel was the strikers' turning from the individualism that had marked Undisciplinability. Once it had been said that Harvard had no honor system because you could not send a man to Coventry if every man was already in Coventry. The strikers' rhetoric of mass struggle was un-Harvardian, far from Jamesian solitary truth-seeking and ironically closer to "the real Princeton spirit" of which Woodrow Wilson had spoken in 1905: "that community of thought which comes from sharing a purpose in the things that arc worth while, from concerted action in the things we believe in." Characteristically, the best-known defense of the Harvard strike was a book called The Right to Say We. As for the style of the strike, it was unoriginal, deriving from earlier revolts at Berkeley, Columbia, and especially Paris. Of course it made a difference that the Harvard student SEPTFAIBKR-OCTOBBR 1986


T H E U N D I S C I P L I N A B L E S continued

body was even less uniformly white, New England, and Protestant than it had been a decade earlier. Never in Harvard's history had admissions been more openly competitive. And yet, for reasons that still are unclear, meritocrats in the making suddenly decided to hang up their merit badges for the duration. It was as though the more diverse the student body became, the more passionately some members of it sought collective action. T h e Harvard strike was a turning point, not because of its violence or threats, but because of its insistence (for the first time since the early nineteenth century) on the demands of a national generation, in contrast to the preservation of traditional privileges like the Latin diplomas, which were the pretext for the 1%1 riots.


n the late 1980s, Harvard has returned to its ancient stereotypes. To legions of high school seniors Harvard represents, apart from all its academic strength, what the Nat Tori' Times has called "the prestige of prestige." To conservatives and ncoconscrvatives, it remains the citadel of an intolerant and supercilious left-liberalism. To leftliberals and radicals, it is the research-and-dcvelopment subsidiary of corporate capitalism. Within the University there seem to be far fewer students who might be called Undisciplinable than there were in 1969; some would say because a generation learned or relearned their own nationalism from the occupiers of the American embassy in Tehran. Amongst the faculty, the 1960s live mainly in the Law School's Critical Legal Studies movement, a handful of younger professors who treat laws and decisions as instruments of class power and who seem to have succeeded admirably in infuriating many liberal as well as conservative colleagues and journalists with their apparent denial that impartial justice is possible. A few Harvard alumni seem to remain active in radical field work, and many more arc following unconventional careers, but the great eccentrics seem much harder to rind. Is I'ndisciplinability dead? It would be more accurate to say that the basis of the older styles of it is. Lndisciplinability depended on authority. It needed strict conventions to defy. In his commentary on Paul Radin's study of the Winnebago trickster cycle, Karl Kerenyi once observed that the tricksterâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the shape-shifting, devious, ingenious, foolish, near-universal figure of mythologyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;arises in a rigid social system. His purpose: "to add disorder to order and so make a whole, to render possible, within the fixed bounds of what is permitted, an experience of what is not permitted." In cherishing both authority and subversion, Harvard once "made a whole." The I'ndisciplinables would bridle at identification with the trickster figure. They have sought to be Prometheus or Apollo, not Hermes. Washington Allston wrote to his mother of his intention to be "the first painter, at least, from America." When he and his friends were not cavorting at the Howard. William Randolph Hearst made a careful study of the newspaper business. John Dos Passos's undergraduate aspiration to bean American Gibbon and Thomas Wolfe's fantasies about reading the entire Widener Library are matched by William Burroughs s aspiration to create "an alteration in the reader's consciousness" and by Norman Mailer's self-advertisement at 36 that "1 am imprisoned with a perception which will settle for nothing less than making a revolution in the consciousness of our time." No wonder a conservative Harvard junior, writing of Harvard's radicals in 1912, could temper his disapproval 136


with the thought that "they show that the spirit of Harvard is active, not amoral." Vet Harvard's Undisciplinable^, even in the midst of their crusades, show the chameleon changes of the classic trickster. "I always feel that it is not as important to be consistent as it is to be correct," William Randolph Hearst once said. "A man who is completely consistent never learns anything. Conditions change, and he does not." Norman Mailer described writing about himself as "a circus of variations and postures." He became "an actor, a quick-change artist, as if I believe I can trap the Prince of Truth in the act of switching a style." Or as that champion shape-shifter and seagull ma/u/ue, Joe Gould, put it at a religious poetry night in the Village: "In winter I'm a Buddhists/And in summer I'm a nudist." Like the trickster, the Undisciplinable has a positive gift for getting into and out of scrapes, whether through extremes of unscrupulousness (George Downing and Thomas Bell) or of steadfast adherence to aesthetic or political principle (the Harvard loyalists, E.E. Cummings, Norman Mailer). Unlike the archaic trickster, the Undisciplinable actually gained ground. But there were costs. In a more libertarian Harvard there could not be quite the same easy give and take that used to prevail between order and creative disorder, the mutual affection between genial authority and deferential subversion that was evident in, for example. President A. Lawrence Lowell's defense of the young British political science instructor Harold Laski when the latter was under fire for his support of the Boston police strike of 1919. (Despite his conservatism and anti-Semitism, and his role in breaking the strike, Lowell threatened to resign if the Governing Boards fired Laski.) Por Bohcmianism and Dissent, success had a high price: the stigma of commercialized individualism and radical chic, the conservative taunt of a new Establishment with its own vested interests. Even aristocratic dissipation has been hopelessly democratized; not much glamor remains in Barbarianism after Animal House. Perhaps it is a good thing that quieter and more private styles of individualism now prevail among Harvard peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; probably, though this is hard to prove, in larger numbers than at the other major Eastern universities. The order in which the Undisciplinables flourished would (to paraphrase Jakob Burckhardt) send even a present-day conservative gasping for air. If there is more tolerance and room for eccenrricity now than there was, if "Establishment" and "protest" are more ambiguous ideas, it is in part because of risks some of the I'ndisciplinables took and sacrifices they made. Imagine a history of American civil liberties without the names of Roger Baldwin '05, Corliss Lamont '21, and Owen Lattimore, of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences and the Harvard-Venching Institute. We may not be a more just society than we were, but we have certainly become a more tolerant one. The I'ndisciplinables helped to make their own role obsolete in the public mind, and in 1986 there is nobody here but us nonconformists. Will a new generation of I'ndisciplinables arise again if we need them? U Edward Tenner, a Princeton alumnus, arts a junior fellow at Harvard from 1969 to 1972 before taking his Ph.D. at the Vnkeisity of Chicago. He is science editor at Princeton I 'niversity Press and author of the recently released'Vcch Speak (Crown).

Securities products available through New England Securities Corporation

Š 1986, New EngUnd Mutual Life Insurance Company and Its Financial Partners. Boston. MA.

DOES IT SEEM THAT COMMITMENT TO OUALITY IS BECOMING ATHING OF THE PAST? COME TO NEW ENGLAND. The New England we speak of is just that-T/ie New England (formerly known as New England Life). A partnership of financial services companies offering a wide range of financial products-life insurance, mutual funds, employee benefits, real estate investments and financial planning. At The New England, we like to think we've embodied quality for the more than 150 years we've been in business. This commitment to high ideals is one of the ways our representatives earn the trust and promote the security of our clients. If you'd like to form a long-term relationship with a company that does business this way, phone 1-800-222-2725 for the name of your local representative.

NIE The New England Your Financial Partner

indeed formidable!' —Howard Cosell

— " • ^ y ,>?5^5

A proud new owner. A hard-hitting editorial team. Design pros who've given our pages more punch. Thai's why more and more advertisers are signing up with a magazine that tells it like it is. ^^t



U.S.News Asmart magazine just got brighter.



2036 Does Harvard have a future?

Celebrations remind us of the nature of living institutions. Occasions for retrospection, they induce us to look back at the past traversed and also to peer forward at what may lie ahead. Time—that gone by and that to come—reveals the continuities which bind this generation to its predecessors, and also the changes that separate one from another. Among the celebrants of 1986 will be some rained upon during the Tercentenary of 1936, where, despite the smoldering depression, they heard invocations of the optimistic spirit of progress that war would stifle three years later. T h e participants, whether at the earlier or the later date, had much in common with their predecessors in 1886, in the nature of loyalties that brought them together and in the understanding of how the years in Cambridge had shaped their thinking and their lives. Certainly a century's span had altered much in the physical setting and in the character of professors and students; but the core of purpose—what the University defined as education—had remained intact. It is by no means certain that the same sense of purpose will have survived in 2086 or even 2036.


n 1936, Harvard had quite outgrown the character with which its founders endowed it. It had effaced the Massachusetts-oriented institution, dedicated to purposes clearly related to its Puritan origins—the training of ministers and the polishing of young gentlemen. President Eliot had taken it a long way toward modern university7 status. Under his administration, its interests had broadened; and the elective system had freed the faculty of a heavy burden of routine tasks so that it could teach at a level compatible with creative scholarship. Thoroughly recast, the graduate

schools had redefined their own missions; they proposed not only to train practitioners of medicine, law, or divinity, but also to advance knowledge in those fields. Eliot's personality and the resources he commanded raised the University's prestige throughout the country, indeed throughout the world. President Lowell had forcefully pushed forward the tendencies initiated under Eliot. His determined effort to create a university college that would combine elite undergraduate instruction with scholarship of the very highest order aspired to the goals of the English and the German universities. Harvard consciously rejected two contemporary alternatives: on the one hand, that of Clark and Johns Hopkins, which separated the research-oriented university from the college; and on the other, that of Dartmouth and the other liberal arts colleges, which put scholarship a distant second to teaching. Lowell and his successor. President Conant, kept the objectives of the university college clearly in view. T h e House system, departmental concentration, and tutorial instruction strengthened the College; the creation of the Society of Fellows, the development of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences and of the professional faculties, and the construction of libraries and laboratories showed the determination to remain in the first rank of scholarly institutions. These decisions had involved some growth both in the number of students and in the size of the faculty. But the rate of increase slackened after 1930. T h e professors accepted the leveling-off during the depression as desirable, since they felt in any case overburdened by comparison with colleagues in comparable institutions. T h e informal and ad hoc decisions to expand or not came within the framework of widely shared beliefs about the nature of the University. Agreement was SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


PEERING TOWARD 2036 maimed possible in these matters because the faculties were small enough and coherent enough to sustain a sense of communal solidarity that had existed at the beginning of the century and still survived in 1936. In that year. Harvard formed a world of its own. Few permanent members of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences lived more than three-quarters of a mile from Harvard Square, a brisk twenty-minute walk. T h e densest clustering had once been around the immediate periphery of the Yard along Quincy and Kirkland Streets, Francis Avenue, Gorham, Hammond, Wendell and Oxford Streets. More recently, settlement had reached up Garden Street to new outposts near Fresh Pond; and a venturesome few had gone off to rural Belmont. Professors of law, education, and divinity occupied homes within the same residential pattern, as did some teachers in the more distant medical and business schools. T h e middle-class shopkeepers and artisans who made up the bulk of the Cambridge population separated the Harvard families from the slums of Boston with their attendant social problems and high costs. The professors used the cultural amenities of the metropolis but sent their children to local schools, shielded from contact with the dangerous classes of the inner city. T h e University community operated within a little world of its own, held together by numerous subtle but powerful social and intellectual ties. The ties extended to the students, then still free to drop in at faculty homes and, across the generations, to the alumni and Governing Boards whose loyalty remained a potent source of support. A few written rules regulated the conduct of teachers and pupils; a scattering of "Yard cops" maintained order; and a handful of administrators assisted the president. No more was necessary, for the silken bands of an agreed-on code held members of the community in place.


wo among the values affirmed in the community significantly established its solidarity, for both diverged from the prevailing norms of American society. T h e first was commitment to intellectual freedom. T h e members of the faculty had complete confidence in each other and the successive presidents had confidence in them. Some professors in the 1930s extravagantly praised the Soviet Union or fascist Italy. At least one kept a portrait of his hero, Adolf Hitler, in his living room. It did not matter. These idiosyncrasies did not affect instruction or research. At a time when academic freedom rested upon quite insecure bases almost everywhere else in the country, it was a source of pride and a stimulus to morale to know that the integrity of scholarship and the ability to espouse unpopular causes were absolutely secure at Harvard. T h e other eccentric value was rejection of the market mentality that infused almost every aspect of American life. To be sure, under Eliot the scorn for materialism sometimes proved justification for abysmally low salaries. "Asceticism and devotion were required of the teachers of youth, and it mattered little," a critic pointed out, "if they were prescribed by poverty instead of being elective." Yet Eliot's insistence that the academic profession required "altruistic conceptions of life and duty" long made sense to the faculty. Its members, in choosing a career of scholarship, had rejected more remunerative alternatives and expected to make sacrifices in following their calling. Guided by a curious amalgam of monastic and gentlemanly ideals, they took pride in their detachment from mone140


tary values; and to many of them that detachment was a condition of their independence. A later generation would hardly believe that faculty members of the 1930s bore all the expenses of research, travel, and secretarial costs out of their own funds; that they considered it infra dig to apply for foundation grants; that they extended informal financial aid to deserving students; that they took it as a matter of course that they would contribute to, rather than draw upon. University resources. T h e percentage of professors with outside incomes was about the same in 1HK6 as in 1936 or 1986, although the sources of those incomes changed from inheritance and marriage to fees and royalties. But attitudes toward money changed even more. In 1936, faculty members did not consider themselves employees of the University doing a job for a salary. They were members of a community which assisted them in doing the work they wished to do. Hence salary was almost irrelevant. Eliot often spoke with satisfaction of the number of professors offered higher posts with greater financial rewards who refused to leave because of "the perfect freedom of opinion and the deep respect of the community they enjoyed."


he situation changed after 1936, not all at once, but steadily and ultimately decisively, in a fashion scarcely noticed at first, then gaining force in recent decades and likely to extend into the future. T h e increase in size is the most visible indication. T h e number of students, of tenured and temporary faculty, and of nonteaching officers all shot up, along with rises in endowment, expenditures, tuition costs, income, the number of buildings and of staff and service personnel. This growth, important in its own right, was but a surface indication of other changes in the nature of the community. Cambridge lost some of its attractiveness as a place in which to live just when the automobile and new highways opened up the western suburbs of Boston. T h e depression of the 1930s, which depressed local real estate values, created a housing glut and limited losses to the suburbs until the end of the war. Then the cost of homes rose at an accelerating rate and the dispersal of faculty residences away from the Harvard vicinity became a permanent trend. T h e expansion of M.I.T., the appearance of new research centers, and internal Harvard growth substantially increased the number of bidders for a limited supply of desirable single-family houses, and the continuing movement into Cambridge of well-to-do people unconnected with the University intensified the competition. Prices rose beyond the means of many professors. A larger faculty spread throughout the metropolitan region was less likely to maintain its sense of solidarity than earlier. Its members had always been heterogeneous in background and character, but they had formerly shared values and tastes interior to the community and preserved by some degree of isolation from outside contacts. To the extent that the faculty drifted away and to the extent that wealthy outsiders moved into Cambridge, the prospect of preserving a common style of life and a common set of values diminished. T h e student body had long since lost its homogeneity. By the 1920s it included young men and women from out beyond the Hudson, some Catholics and Jews and occasional blacks, in the expectation that all would adapt themselves to the prevailing standards. T h e ten thousand men of Harvard would all take the same kinds of courses, meet the same requirements,

dress alike, speak alike, and espouse the same values. And to a remarkable extent, they did. Expectations changed, however, when diversity became an end in itself; students recruited to represent deprived elements in the population brought values of their own to the University, tried to preserve their own life styles and tastes, demanded faculty role models and courses relevant to their own perceived needs, and made it difficult ro expect that all students would march to the beat of the same drummer. A changed relationship to the outer world also broke in upon the University isolation. The first World War created a precedent for service to the government by faculty members. The New Deal and die Second World W'ai strengthened the links to Washington. The president of the University left to serve there and in Europe. The professorial role of consultant and occasional administrator broadened rapidly thereafter, with industry as well as government the beneficiaries. Moreover, the airplane removed the limitations of distance that formerly restricted the range of travel. In the 1930s, professors left Cambridge in term time only under the most unusual circumstances; a trip to Chicago then consumed a week. Now a morning (light brings them to Los Angeles in time for lunch; and they need not miss a class the next day. The boundaries of their world are therefore altogether different from those of their predecessors, and so are their relationships to the University community. Loyalties no longer focus narrowly on the Yard; scholars often can very well conceive that their own work could go forward from some other base than Harvard, and the meaningful connections run not to local colleagues but to those in the same field around the country or the world. One result has been a monetization of values that brought the University into line with standards prevailing in other sectors of American society. T h e availability of funds from government and the foundations encouraged the trend toward setting a monetary equivalent for all the fractions of the faculty members' time, for research as well as for teaching and for administration. The professors scarcely noticed the subtle change in the view of the stipendâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;from a means of enabling them to do what they in any case wished to do, to a salary for doing a job. But the ultimate result was to bring them into the marketplaces as sellers of their services. They thereby slipped unwittingly into the adversary posture increasingly characteristic of the whole community. They began to negotiate conditions of employment, space, and stipend just as students make deals about requirements and grades. The idea that all the members of the community arcon the same side, involved in a common effort, has faded awayâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;inconsistent with the market society of the 1980s.


ransformation of the world of learning prevents Harvard from arbitrarily limiting the si/e of its faculty and thus strengthening the eohesiveness of the community. In this respect it shares the fate of other universities. Year by year the departments and subdepartments multiply, the catalogue of course offerings waxes ever fatter, and the number of teachers soars. These developments run parallel to those throughout the world of learning in which specialties and subspecialties grow ever narrower and multiply in the process. Optimists consider the trend to gigantism a reflection of the knowledge explosion of the past quarter century. A less charitable view perceives a

flaccid inability to root out redundancies and to distinguish between the weeds and the flowers. T h e peer review process, on which academic judgments increasingly turn, loses its vitality as the number of peers shrinks to a mutually approving handful confined each within its own society and journals. However regarded, the expansive tendencies require an increase in the size of faculties at Harvard as at other universities. A refusal to grow would freeze the existing allocation of resources and prevent exploitation of new subjects important both to students and to the world of scholarship. Furthermore, the pressures toward expansion operate within the traditional disciplines as well as in newer fields of learning. Modem research techniques call for increasing specialization, for expensive equipment, and for a high degree of teamwork; the inability or unwillingness to respond to the challenge of these conditions would damage every branch of learning, not simply those on the frontiers of knowledge. T h e department of history, for instance, in the past focused its attention upon Europe and America. It touched upon Africa and the Near East as aspects of the expansion of Europe or of the British Empire. To embark on first-rate programs of instruction in African and Near Eastern history would require six appointments in one case and eight in the other. T h e scholars the department wished to attract were already working with such groups elsewhere and would not come without comparable support. Yet expansion on this scale would outrun the resources of the University and would upset the existing balance of teaching responsibilities. T h e Faculty of Medicine, less bound by financial constraints, also discovered the penaltics of expansion. Former dean Robert H. Ebcrt, who once

Optimists consider the trend to gigantism a reflection of the knowledge explosion. dreamed of bringing the Medical School and teaching hospital into complete union with the University, in \l)Hh acknowledged that they had instead drifted ever further apart. No department or faculty ever expected to encompass all fields within the area of its competence. Nor did the University as a whole aim to master all knowledge. Instead, recognizing the need for tough choices. Harvard counted on smaller faculties to compensate by high scholarly distinction for the unavoidable failures in breadth of coverage. In making appointments, "best available" was not good enough; only the standard of excellence would recruit professors to serve both as undergraduate teachers and as creative researchers. Significant social changes drastically diminished the ability to recruit such peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;among them the growing competitiveness in salaries and working conditions of other universities, the cost of life in Cambridge, and the increasing frequency of two-career academic families, in dealing with which other institutions more readily made space for tag-along spouses. T h e results had damaging consequences at Harvard; the quiet assumption that it stood at the apex of the academic profession by virtue of its distinctive environment for study and teaching lost validity. Yet compromises of quality, marked SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


PEERING TOWARD 2036 am&mud

in a disposition to accept people serviceable or useful rather than of scholarly distinction, deepened the fallibility of the selection process. All too often in the past, the promise of high achievement failed of fulfillment. Compromises in expectation in the present wipe out even the promise.


acking internal unity, the University often acts on the defensive, as it faces the necessity of justifying activities it can no longer take for granted are valuable in themselves. T h e compulsion to demonstrate that Harvard does good is more than ;i device to elicit financial support; it expresses a genuine concern that a troubled universe can no longer afford the luxury of learned pursuits, so that scholarship has to prove its value not on its own terms but by service to the region, the nation, and the world. Although Harvard contributes essential strength to Cambridge and to New England, to say nothing of the worth of its cultural and scientific achievements to the nation and to humanity, growth has left it a vulnerable giant exposed to the petty stings of insensitive critics and demagogic politicians. Thus beleaguered, it struggles with difficulty to sustain scholarly standards.

Pressures from within the University and from outside it leave the president little room for maneuver. Eliot and Lowell, with only the Governing Boards to worry about, could afford strong-mindedness. Conant and Pusey discovered the limits of faculty tolerance in clashes over tenure and the Memorial Church. Smoldering town-gown resentments all along created the need for caution. But after 1969, the hostile forces multiplied to include as well dissatisfied professors, student and community activists, local politicians and fanatical environmentalistsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;anyone who nursed a grievance against a large, seemingly wealthy institution incapable of defending itself. For more than two decades, the methods of rational discourse and democratic decisionmaking failed. No matter that a majority of undergraduates favored the retention of ROTC; the minority would not retreat from non-negotiable demands. T h e MATEP power plant may some day laboriously creak into full operation, but only after enormously expensive delays. Self-anointed champions of community rights again and again arise to battle the monster in their midst. No one asks their identity. Rarely can the University confront these jabs boldly. To cope with pinpricks any one of which might open a serious wound, it reacts as do other large American institutions, by expanding the staff to explain, mollify, and make little concessions to avoid losses while promoting its own image and above all avoiding confrontation. Mediation, the prevailing administration style, has the merit of limiting the possible damage; however, it disheartens friends and multiplies enemiesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;in response to the dean's pleas, the gulag went down, the shanties stayed up. Undergraduate thugs with impunity suspend the freedom of speech of those with whom they disagree. Above all, mediation suffers the defect of all P.R., that it blurs images in the effort to sell the University and gain acceptance. T h e essential message remains unspokenâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;that Harvard is not a government agency, or a business corporation, or a foundation, or even a baseball major league, however important those may be. Harvard, a unique cultural treasure, serves a purpose valid in its own right. By virtue of its heritage and situation, it, even more than other universities, bears the responsibility hi Veritas, for advancing and transmitting learning. 142



he temptation, under siege conditions, to justify the University' by its utility has more insidious effects. Always Harvard, like other colleges and universities which had to appeal for public support, advanced the plea of utiliry. Higher education was a good thing because it trained godly magistrates or knowledgeable citizens; because its products added to the nation's health, wealth, and beauty. But in the past, those arguments defended the worth of teaching moral philosophy, classical languages, history, literature, and natural science; that is, they purported to justify what the University was in any case doing from the heights of its ivory tower. More often in recent years, the cry has gone forward from within to descend from the ivory tower, to mingle with the workaday world, and to solve humanity's problems. T h e gallant confidence in the effectiveness of academic knowledge flies in the face of experience. Never in the past has any university exercised such influence. Alas, brute men and women more often respond to passion, interest, and prejudice than to reason or appeals to virtue; and long-term social trends have remained impervious to lessons learned from books and lectures. Alas, too, more often than not the corruption of power has affected even those who only touched its hem. Involvement is less likely to convey the University's spirit to politics, diplomacy, or business than to infuse the academy with external political, diplomatic, or economic considerations. But still, unprecedented times may require unprecedented measures, and what may not have worked before may work in the future. T h e effort will, however, strain the University's resources and divert its energies away from its proper task, scholarship. As it is, the transformation of the community and of science have injected into Harvard's life new elements of bureaucratic impersonality, which threaten to affect adversely its ability to deal with its own problems. That all American institutions of higher education share the predicament is no consolation. Harvard is far from a multiversity, even in 1986, and institutional inertia may preserve a place in it for learning. Buildings, libraries, and laboratories cry out for use; and some day, if no obstacles intervene, an inquiring person may wander in, stumble upon the temptation to explore, and then discover, think. A chapel always stood in or near the Yard. Its worshipers in 1786 had long since abandoned the Puritan faith; those of 1886 had moved further away still, and of 1986 even more so. Yet now and then, one or a handful find a way to belief there. Perhaps in 2036 or 2086, if the structure still stands, it may stimulate to wonder and awe, in fashions as yet inconceivable, other generations of youth, linked to a past quite unknown to them. Here in the wilderness, the first founders planted an institution that grew in unanticipated ways. That poor pilgrim people, their estates much wasted, in erecting a college sought to make the whole world understand that spiritual learning was the thing they chiefly desired. They would not feel themselves total strangers in the University three hundred and fifty years later. They may still find tokens of recognition in the future. ^

Oscar Hand/in is Carl M. Loeb University Pmfessor at Harvard, where he has taugfit since 1939, He is an authority on immigration and its effects on American history.


Courier Corporation, a leading specialty printer, provides complete manufacturing capabilities for hardcover and soft-cover books, bibles and large reference works, and telephone directories through five operating units in this country and in the United Kingdom. • The Murray Printing Company of Westford, Massachusetts • National Publishing Company of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania • North American Directory Corporation of Lowell, Massachusetts • Anchor Brendon Press of Tiptree, Essex, England • The Alpine Press, Inc. of Stoughton, Massachusetts

James F. Conway, Jr., H '45 ('47), MBA '49 Chairman

Courier Corporation

Alden French, Jr., H '56, AMP '73


165 Jackson Street

Lowell, Massachusetts

Two great centers of bearing technology have come together.

And the potential for synergy has never been brighter. Individually, each company has long been recognized for its innovation, foresight and resourcefulness in its separate fields. Fafnir in ball and mounted bearings. Torrington in needle and roller bearings. Now, together as one company they offer: The broadest line of quality products in the industry. Skilled, technically knowledgeable sales engineers. Manufacturing excellence. Technological expertise. Uncompromising service. And on-time delivery. It's an unmatched value package. Torrington and Fafnir. The best of both worlds. Now together.

TORRINGTON I FAFNIR Part of worldwide Ingersoll-Rand Š 1986 The Torrington Company

For more information write for our new company brochure: The Torrington Company, RO. Box 1008, Department H-111, Torrington, Connecticut 06790.


QUESTION An alumni examination.


f Harvard's business is research and teaching, its principal products are new knowledge and alumni—the latter presumably infused with some of the former but at any rate equipped with a questioning habit of mind. T h e editors of Harvard Magazine, when they began to plan this commemorative issue, were mindful of Samuel Eliot Morison's dictum that "in the long run, a college or university is known by her fruits. She will be judged by the character of her alumni." But how best were we to disclose the character of an alumni body, a conglomeration of some 234,136 individuals who have nothing to enrwine them but a common experience? At first we thought we would ask the alumni a single question, carefully crafted, and let their answers reveal their diversity in some of its many splendors. Hut we could think of no question that did justice to them all. So we posed this problem to a number of graduates: Ask yourself a question, one you think important or perhaps only interesting, and answer it—briefly; at least the question will be perfectly framed since you are asking it yourself. We received many replies, including this one from Stephen Booth '55, Ph.D. '64, who teaches at the University of California, Berkeley. "I've put a lot of time into asking myself questions and answering them. I turn out not to know any interesting questions for which I have 250-word answers. Just as I get my throat clear, the allotted words run out. For instance, I tried 'What should we call you?' 'Call me Ishmael,' I wrote. After

that brisk start, however, I began to wander sadly. There's this big fish, sec. . ." Our thanks to the following:

Anthony Lewis How has our perception of the world changed since I left Harvard College, in 1948? T h e question has infinite possible answers. But one, I think, strikes a fundamental chord. We feel a loss of control. Order unravels. Institutions lose their self-confidence. Reason itself—the belief that human problems have rational solutions—is under attack. In 1948 we were almost Victorian in our expectations of progress. Some things have gone well. The industrialized nations are a great deal richer. War between the great powers has been avoided for forty years. Scientific invention has accelerated. But those achievements have not brought security or individual tranquility. As I write, thousands of Americans have abandoned in fear their plans to travel abroad. Terrorism has us in its psychological grip. Around the world, millions have turned from politics to religious visions that we consider fanatic. But in our own country, too, religiosity is more intense than ever, seeking to impose sectarian beliefs on politics. Tolerance for differing ideas diminishes. Large groups want

power to tell us what to read, what to believe. Why? Is overpopulation having profound psychological effects? Has instant worldwide communication intensified longing and jealousy and hate? Have the Holocaust and the myriad tortures and cruelties of states since then lowered our threshold of humanity? I wish I knew. But I expect to go on believing in reason. Anthony Lewis '48 is a political columnist for the New York Times.

Phyllis Schlafly What is the biggest change that has come about in America since those happy days I spent at Harvard in the mid 1940s? I think it is our fundamental change in attitude and ideology. In the 1940s, the American people had faith in the ability of government to plan and manage our economy and solve our socio-economic problems but no faith that a free economy could cope with those challenges. Harvard led the way in teaching this ideology. It was then fashionable 'round the Harvard Yard to say that the United States had reached a "technological plateau" and could not expect any significant growth in our economy. In the mid 1980s, attitudes are almost S E P T E M B E R - O C T O B E R 1986


OPEN H QUESTION continued exactly reversed. We have lost faith in the ability of government to solve our problems. We have developed a new appreciation of how a free, private-enterprise economy (with lower taxes and less regulation) can accomplish more than can be a c h i e v e d by e x p e r t planners. Perhaps this change was caused by the obvious failure of the liberal policies. After years of the war on poverty, we have more people dependent on government than ever before. After years of federal spending on education, we have an epidemic of illiteracy that was unknown in America in the 1940s. Do we want an ideology of scarcity with bureaucrats allocating pieces of the pie according to their elitist notions of social justice? Or do we want an ideology of growth in which we can all strive for a bigger piece of a bigger pie? T h e American people chose a growth economy when they chose Ronald Reagan in 1980, and the second time around in 1984 they made their choice even more emphatic. A member of die Commission on die Bicentennial of the U.S. Constitution. Phyllis Schlajh', M.A. '45, is a lawyer, author, and syndicated columnist. This year Good Housekeeping named her the "third most admired woman in the world."

al shelves and thence with some more strides make his or her way to the door, the brief downward stairs, and the circulation desk. More than once, as an undergraduate, I missed this pivotal, unmarked turn, and found myself faced with a blank wall, or with an indignant Ph.D. candidate dozing in his nook. How like Harvard, I thought at the time, to set us these incidental tests. T h e spot on the floor, which the vast shuffling hordes of stacks traffic must all traverse, has in the not vers- many decades of the library's existence been worn into a distinct depression; the gentle tread of scholars has visibly troughed the marble. I hope that particular slab is never replaced, though it grow as deep as the similar spot on the stone threshold of the kitchen in Hampton Court, which generations of royal servants, stepping in and out, have depressed to the depth of several inches. Here, where the Widener architect might have arranged a more convenient corridor, generations of Harvard students and instructors have all had to dodge in obeisance to the immovable primacy of books and their shelving; here wordweary, knowledge-burdened girls and boys have carried each away their few mineral atoms on the soles of their shoes, and made their dent in the world of ideas. John Updike '54 is a novelist, poet, and critic.

John Updike What is your favorite spot in and around Harvard? Well, that's not an easy question. My nostalgic heart flutters between the cavelike entrance to Sever Hall, the far recesses of the Fogg library, and the grand space of (as it was called thirty years ago) New Lecture Hall, now abandoned and nailed shut like a South Bronx tenement. Other vanished fond spots: the counter at the Midget Restaurant, up on Mass. Avenue, and the window tables at the Hayes-Bickford cafeteria, once known universally as the Hayes-Bick. But the spot I will name has not vanished, and indeed has only enriched and deepened with the passage of time. I mean that place on the fourth floor of the Widcncr stacks where everybody, exiting, has to turn around an inconvenient little set of met148


Lester C. Thurow Why do Americans like the Lone Ranger myth so much? Americans are unique in their belief in the Lone Ranger. What made America great? Why, Lone Rangers, of course. T h e West was settled by Lone Rangers—Buffalo Bill, Calamity Jane. Multitudinous foreign enemies were defeated by Lone Rangers—Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie. American industry was built by Lone Rangers—Henry Ford, Alfred Sloan. Where else but in America would one find a business hall of fame where one can worship at shrines devoted to the Lone Rangers of American industry? Where else but in America would one find a major airport (Orange County's John Wayne Airport) named

after a movie star who was not a Lone Ranger hero but simply played the part in his movies? Americans want to believe in the Lone Ranger so much that they honor fantasy as if it were reality. Reality was of course very different. T h e West was settled not by Lone Rangers but by wagon trains and community barn raisings. Those at the Alamo were losers and may have died as prisoners rather than as heroes fighting to the end. Ford and Sloan helped build American industry, but their success is traced to innovations in social organization (the assembly line, the committee system) designed to get large groups of people to work together more efficiently. Good ideas but hardly Lone-Rangcrtype activities. Myths are interesting since they tell us something about ourselves, but they are also dangerous when they become so strong that they dominate reality. When confronting America's lack of competitiveness in international markets, for example, the standard American reaction is to call for "liberating the entrepreneur"—let the Lone Ranger ride to the rescue. Yet those (Japan, West Germany) defeating us in international competition are hardly practitioners of the Lone Ranger ideal. Precisely the opposite—they are practitioners of the idea that one wins by paying very careful attention to improving social organization and shrewd collective strategic planning. When it comes to that famous bottom line that Americans also love so well, the Lone Ranger did not exist. Even more important, however, he wasn't alone. He had three helpers (Silver, Tonto, and Scout) who often came to his rescue. T h e myth about the myth is more extreme than the myth itself. Lester Thurow, Ph.D. '64, is Billardprofessor of management and economics at M.l.T.

Toby Marotta Why this epidemic of AIDS? At the beginning of the 1980s, with the help of a dozen of my Harvard College classmates, I produced a book about the nature of male homosexual living and the meaning of gay liberation. Sons of

Celebrate Harvard's milestone in education with an elegant Seiko watch, each with a 14K gold dial, etched with the University's 350th Commemorative seal.

It's About Time. The Harvard 350th Commemorative Watches These limited edition timepieces, officially licensed by Harvard University, feature mar-resistant crystal and precision quartz movement. Available in water-proof adjustable bracelet design or calf leather band, each watch comes with gold tone casing, date display, battery-life indicator and one-year limited warranty. This is the only opportunity for you to order these collector's items. The Harvard 350th Commemorative Watches will not be available after December 31, so order today.

Personal Reservation Form Please fill my order for: Ladies' Watch w/lcathcr band $ _ $195.00 ea. Men's Watch w/ leather band $195.00 ea.


Ladies'Watch w/gold two tone bracelet @ $225.00 ea.


Men's Watch w/ gold two lone $ bracelet @ $ 2 2 5 * 0 ea.

5% Sales Tax (MA residents only):


+ Shipping and Handling:


Total Amount: $ ORDER TOLL FREE: 1-800-225-5800 or mail Personal Reservation Form to: U.S. Commemorative Co. P.O. Box 2176 Cambridge. MA 02238 Name . Street. City

St .


Check Enclosed Charge my



Account Number Expiration Date Please allow 4-8 weeks for delivery.

O P E N K Q U E S T I O N continued

Harvard attracted little attention. Reviewers tended to dismiss it. Typical were the sentiments expressed in Harvard Magazine by the minister of Memorial Church: "We wonder why they have been asked to speak, or we are expected to listen." By September of 1982, when these views were published, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control had recorded almost seven hundred cases of AIDS. Threequarters identified themselves as homosexual men. At this point, for a few hundred thousand dollars, any behavioral scientist knowledgeable about gay life could have polled these people about their sexual and drug-using activities and determined exactly which practices were associated with symptoms. Neither called for nor undertaken was the simple step that would have set the stage for effective preventive education. Since 1982, the number of AIDS cases has mushroomed. Almost threequarters of the approximately twenty thousand Americans now diagnosed remain homosexual men. Half arc already dead. Because unreined M.D.'s arc in charge and biomedical models for dealing with disease predominate, no one has advocated 01 commissioned socialscientific survey work that would ascertain the range and frequency of activities involved in this spread of infection. Still to be listened to are gay people willing to speak out about their values, life styles, and subcultures. As the story of Sons of Harvard is a saga of cultural frontiers explored and reports from the front ignored, so blame

Blame for the AIDS epidemic lies ultimately in professional paradigms unchallenged and provincialism left in place.

for this epidemic lies ultimately in professional paradigms unchallenged and provincialism left in place. Sooner or later, the costs will force a full accounting. Its results should redefine the meaning of c o m p e t e n c e in publichealth policy-making and expand conISO


ventional wisdom about the parameters of liberalism. Toby Marotta '67, M.A.T.'70, M.P.A. '72. Ph.D. 7<V, is a social scientist who specializes in research on homosexual behavior and underclass subcultures. He is an organizer of gay alumni networks and the author of Sons of Harvard and T h e Politics of Homosexuality.

Our leaders must be persons who have stamped themselves with character, conviction, and courage. A senior fellow of the Harvard Society nf Fellows and a former president of the Hoard of Overseers, Charles E. Wyzanski Jr. '27, LL.H. '.id, l.L.I). '58. is a United States senior district judge (retired). He is often seen "parading up and down lirattle St/vet. wearing a black Hoisalino hat and canying Lord Hymn's walking stick."

Charles Wyzanski What would you like to see more of in the national consciousness? I should like to see more awareness of the role of Americans as exemplars of the democratic tradition. We are heirs not merely of a Declaration of Independence and a United States Constitution to which was appended a Bill of Rights, but of a faith in the significance of each individual. Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, Lincoln, Holmes, Brandeis, and others in our pantheon were embodiments of integrity of character, civic responsibility, and belief in the ultimate purpose of man on earth. Team players they mayhave been, but only in relation to their vision of each individual as a unique manifestation of the spiritual kingdom. T h e twentieth century worships organization. Bureaucracy has become the dominant aspect of professional and other callings. The consequence is that we no longer find outstanding public heroes in law, medicine, university presidencies, financial enterprises, or other fields. Not until we learn that there is no substitute for education centered on humanistic subjects, and no career of significance unrelated to them, shall we measure up to the standard of the founding fathers. In the twenty-first century, the stimulus is unlikely to come primarily from orthodox Christianity or AngloSaxon constitutional history. We must seek or create traditions suited to a people composed of persons of widely different faiths, ethnic backgrounds, and national origins. Tomorrow the United States will survive or perish depending on whether it emphasizes the individual contributions of each person regardless of his difference from his neighbors.

John LeBoutillier What will be our next Watergate-style, national political scandal? In early 1973, the United States government deliberately abandoned living U.S. P.O.W.'s known to be held against their will in Laos and Vietnam. For the past thirteen years, these American soldiers have been held by Hanoi as negotiating bait to securetrade, diplomatic recognition, and reconstruction money from Washington. Our men are mostly pilots and officers; many are graduates of Annapolis or the Air Force Academy. In a society that is very poor and lacking much education, these Americans are valuable sources of technical expertise. T h e Vietnamese force these prisoners to repair the electronic equipment we left behind, to fix helicopters and airplanes, and to build roads and airstrips. These U.S. F.O.W.'s work under armed guard by day and sleep chained together in bamboo cages at night. T h e U.S. government, including the CIA and the Pentagon, has known of the existence of these P.O.W.'s and has chosen to do nothing about them. Why? Because to recover them now, after having done nothing for thirteen years and lied about it, will raise the inevitable question: Why did you leave them there? Why did you deceive their families and the public and the media? In many ways this cover-up is much bigger than Watergate. It spans four presidential administrations, involves thousands of families who were deliberately misled, and goes deeply into many branches of the government, not just the White House. Sometime in 1986 or 1987, the first of these P.O.W.'s will emerge from Laos or



OPKN K Q U E S T I O N continued

Vietnam. When they do, it will spark a firestorm of protest across our country. And it should. T h e U.S. government must never again abandon our men. John h-lioutdlier '76, '79, a farmer I \S. congressman anil member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, is director oj . Iccuraiy in Aca/lemia.

Alex Shoumatofif What is the most pressing problem in the world today? Eliminating what I call "la difference"â&#x20AC;&#x201D; between the rich and the poor, rhc white and the black, the U.S. and the rest of the world, and achieving an equitable sharing of the world's resources and opportunities. Alex Shoumatoff '67 is a Staff writer for the New Yorker. He has written seven books including T h e Mountain of Names and In Southern Light: Trekking Through Zaire and the Amazon.

Richard L. Strout Can man avoid a nuclear meltdown? It is the dominant question of the age. I do not know; it seems dubious. When Russia had its disaster at Chernobyl, it thought it had taken all precautions, but it is now estimated that the poisonous effects will affect generations of people through generations of time. This, when mankind has tried to protect itself, to prevent accidents. What will be the consequences if the nuclear chain is set off not in an industrial development, but deliberately, by bombs? T h e predictions by scientists are horrendous, yet every week more bombs are manufactured. Arc our human institutions capable of controlling what lies ahead? I graduated from Dean Briggs's English 5 in 1919, and since 1924 have been in Washington, watching the presidentsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;twelve altogether. They are generally a hardworking lot. A century ago British diplomat Lord Bryce in his American Commonwealth attempted to explain 152


why America does not pick its truly great men to be president. It is our leaders, and Russia's, who must try to control the new era. 1 shall never forget my first presidential press conference. I was in the sacred halls of the beautiful White House, hallowed by Lincoln's memory. Reporters rushed in and shouted questions. Warren G. Harding stood behind his desk, in plus fours, and pleaded with us to let him get to the golf links. His inadequacy was obvious to him and to the reporters. How much easier the problems were then, when the stakes were not a nuclear meltdown. Richard L. Strout '19 wrote TRB, the New Republic.'* weekly Washington report, from 1943 until 1983.

BartleBull Why not history? T h e sense of history is declining, in our lives, in our foreign policy, and at Harvard. Devoid of a grounding in foreign history, President Carter was astonished by the Russian invasion of Afghanistan and President Reagan did not understand the Polish crisis. Always a student of history, Britain's former prime minister Harold Macmillan in his eighties anticipated both events. Tomorrow this failing will help us stumble in the Middle East, in South Africa, and probably again in Southeast Asia. Americans read the sports pages with more pleasure and intelligence because we know the details of our teams' histories, but we follow international terrorism without understanding its sources. This ignorance begins at home. Even intelligent households replace reading aloud, political argument, and historical literature with television, video drivel, and other trivial pursuits. Few primary schools set out to lure children with the excitements available in studying history. Even such distinguished secondary schools as Exeter, Andover, and St. Paul's require the study of no history other than American, literally offering European history as an elective on a par with dance and photography. Harvard and Yale undergraduates are not required to take even one foreign history

course. It is thus possible to receive the most celebrated education available in the United States and never study any foreign history. T h e American history we do learn is in a vacuum. Thus we flatter ourselves with Lincoln's belated Emancipation Proclamation, forgetting that even in South Africa slavery was outlawed thirty years previously. Then we are astonished when foreigners do not sec us as the fountain of social justice. Uniquely, Harvard has the academicleverage to reverse this trend toward ignorance. Just as other universities have followed our curriculum changes in the past, so secondary schools might adapt their standards if Harvard required more history in its applicants, not to mention in its graduates. liartle Bull '60, LL.B. '64, practices law with Jones, Hindi, Connois & Bid! in New York City, and is writing a book on the liistory of die gtvat safaris. He has managed or worked in political campaigns for Robert Kennedy and Mario Cuomo, andfor CJiarles Ravenel in South Carolina and CJiarles Even m Mississippi, wJiere he once worked as a civil rig/its lawyer. Formerly the publisher o} the Village Voice, Bull has recently written articles in the New York Times, Connoisseur Magazine and Science Digest. He is the vice president of St. Bernards School in Niw York and formerly setved as a director of the Fulbrig/it Sdiolars/iip Ptvgram.

Michael Kazin Why study history? When my students ask this question, I usually answer with a grand phrase about people being irrevocably shaped by the social and psychological baggage of their past. Sometimes, more specifically, I cite a government policy or piece of presidential rhetoric that draws directly on an ideological heritage dating back to the eighteenth century and before. But I am never really convinced by these responses, and although they are too polite to say so, neither are most of my students. So I've found a better answer, at least one with more blood and spirit. It begins with the recognition that most of history has been about people who live in tremendous misery and experience

terms—why this, not that. But Harvard is not one of those exciting places. Sour grapes? Then as a University Professor at Brown, would you choose Brown today? For three reasons, no, never. 1. Brown's open curriculum (no "required" courses) attracts smart students who reject disciplined learning and do not want to work hard. Brown students overall respect nothing, are lazy and frivolous, and treat with contempt the work of learning. 2. As a matter of policy, Brown's administration labors to reduce a small but in some ways distinguished national research university into a mediocre, Michael Kazin '70 readies U.S. history at Harry Gersh 'SO entered Harvard in 1976 regional liberal arts college of no stanAmerican University in Washington, D.C.after almostfiftyyears of writing—mostly dards and no distinction. He is the author of the forthcoming Barons other people's speeches, thoughts, statements, 3. Brown, like Harvard, believes its of Labor: The San Francisco Building reports, books. Since graduation, lie has press notices (at least, the good ones). It Trades and Union Power in the Progrescontinued to turn out books—but under his has long since lost that vision of excelsive Era. During the 1969 Harvard strike own name—from his home on Martha's lence in some few fields that, to begin he was co-chairman of Studentsfor a Demo- Vineyard. His son. John, is a research scien-with, in a better time transformed a recratic Society, "and is still proud of it." tist at John Hopkins; his daughter, Ruth, is gional college into a national research university. an Associated Press correspondent. occasional joys. At certain times, these people believe that, by acting together, they can decrease the pain, punish those responsible for it, and, perhaps, increase their sum of happiness. But the misery has stamped them forever. They create more-promising structures, but the new society will always bear the cruel marks of the past. Yet, change does occur. Slaves free themselves; the disenfranchised win the vote; illiterates learn the power of words. And that relationship between suffering and liberation, between grim continuity and remarkable breaks in time, is history.

Harry Gersh

tween this tight New England place, now peopled by all the breeds within and without the Law, and the ancient tradition which held my ancestors in thrall. They, my ancestors, saw study as a form of worship. So, too, in its inimitable way, does Harvard. And because I found this true at Harvard, my years there were gloriously stimulating, wondrously exciting, deeply satisfying. Surely it is a marvelous thing for a man close to seventy, when sexual fantasies become improbable, to be so stimulated, excited, satisfied. Most of my appropriately-aged classmates were too busy to notice.

Jacob Neusner

Why did I go to Harvard?

There was a funny cartoon strip in the Crimson of October 31, 1977. Five panels showing an old man balding, wispybearded, pants ending well above shoe tops. Undoubtedly me. The balloons ask why "Harvard's famous 64-year-old sophomore is there" .. . "Does he really enjoy embarrassing himself in the New York Times twice a year?" . . . "Is it simply for the publicity? . . . or a desperate bid to recapture a long-departed and illspent youth? Is it in fact possible that he is driven by a genuine thirst for knowledge and self-enlightenment?" Since this is a comic strip, there's a punch line: "I'm really going pre-med." Ten years after I entered with the Class of 1980, and six years after graduation, I am prepared to clear up my classmates' puzzlement: It was none of the above. Harvard is a myth, of course, and like all mythologies can be analyzed into untruths. But I found the myth true, if only because it was consistent with my own. I came to Harvard—it was even more difficult for me to get in than for my classmates—because there is a tie be-

If you were eighteen years old, would you go to Harvard today?

No. Why not? Because: 1. Like the rest of the Ivy League, the University sets too comfortably on its ivy laurels. Believing your own press releases is not the way to achieve excellence, and in field after field Harvard simply does not excel.

In field after field, Harvard simply does not excel.

2. Students in Harvard College encounter education as an exercise in show and tell. Professors show their brilliance, students tell on exams what the professor said. 3. Harvard has run out of ideas on higher education. Today there are universities that in education and scholarship take risks, asking why and why not, and explaining—in educational

Jacob Neusner '54 is a University Professor at Brown University.

Cleveland Amory What has coming from Harvard meant to you? What do you think it will mean in the future?

Being a Harvard man—or, as we must say today, a Harvard person—is something I have found you both have to live down and, at the same time, live up to. The live-down part is there, purely and simply, because of snobbery— money snobbery, social snobbery, intellectual snobbery, and just about every other kind of snobbery you can name except sports snobbery. My father ('06) used to talk about Harvard's great teams, but frankly I think he got it from his father. In any case, all the Harvard snobberies are combined in that well-worn line, "You can always tell a Harvard man, but you can't tell him much." My suggestion on how to overcome this snobbery is simple—wear old clothes and carry a big stick. The live-up-to part of Harvard comes from three and a half centuries of a special kind of eminence. This is comSF.PTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


O P E N K Q U E S T I O N continued

pounded not only of age and richness of tradition but also, and far more important, of what this tradition—at core— really means. To me it means not the starting salaries of Harvard lawyers or doctors or M.B.A.'s but instead marching to that "different drummer," no matter what the odds or consequences. I think it was best put by Samuel Oilman in the fourth verse of "Fair Harvard," written for the occasion of Harvard's bicentennial way back in 1836: "Farewell! be thy destinies onward and bright!/To thy children the lessons still give,/With Freedom to think, and with Patience to bear,/And for Right ever bravely to

live!/Let not moss-covered Error moor thee at its side,/As the world on Truth's current glides by,/Be the herald of Light, and the bearer of Lovc,/Till the stock of the Puritans die." We don't sing that verse much, when "Fair Harvard" is sung. And the stock of the Puritans is today a bit on the thin side. But I very much doubt that, 150 years later, at Harvard's 350th, those words could be improved upon. Cleveland Amory '39, author of'The Proper Bostonians and other hooks, is founder and president of the Fund for Animals, an anti-cruelty societ}'.

Helen Homans Gilbert What is it like to be acting president of Radcliffe? It's like being the new kid on the block, a top dog in an elite society, a pushover, a fundraiser, a caring guardian for alumnae, students, and parents, and a perpetrator of mistakes, goofs, and hilarious mishaps. For an acting president, it is a poor show to be caught napping on the soft shag rug in the president's office. Unfortunately I was trying to catch a bit of shut-eye there when our long-suffering cleaning man surprised himself and me as he opened the door to the office and found me. Explanations of my behavior were not convincing at all. T h e year I was in charge there had been a lot of sexual harassment of Radcliffe students, and I had hired some plain-clothes men to see what could be done to help the situation. Being a bit forgetful, I accosted a very seedy-looking gent in the Radcliffe Yard and asked in my best presidential manner, "What the hell are you doing here?" His reply, and quite rightly, was "And who the hell are you?" About midway in my term there came another of these mishaps: T h e Hilles Library, designed by Max Abramovitz, was ready for its ground-breaking ceremony. I carefully planned a joyous occasion. Sophomore students, who would be the first to use the library, were to shovel the dirt. Mr. Gates, our Buildings and Grounds head, was to light flares to illuminate the hole. Miss Porritt, our librarian, was to release some celebratory balloons. 154


T h e Harvard-Radcliffe Gilbert and Sullivan chorus was to sing, and assorted g u e s t s , i n c l u d i n g M a x , w e r e to

applaud. Take a cold, rainy afternoon in February about 4 p.m., on the corner of Garden and Shepard streets; I should have known that even acting presidents are vulnerable. Mr. Gates lit the flares around the hole a bit early, and they were out before the guests arrived. For the photograph to record the event for posterity, the sophomore girls bent over their shovels, and having long tresses, they looked like a very hairy Niagara Falls. Miss Porritt released the balloons in a gesture to the future, and all caught in the nearest tree. None of the Radcliffe section of the Gilbert and Sullivan chorus showed up, and the Harvard section carried on rather lamely. At the close of these misfortunes, the guests and Max were cold, wet, and ready for a hot rum toddy. I, as that glorious figure, acting president of Radcliffe, opened my remarks with "This is a presidentshattering experience," rather than "This is a precedent-shattering experience." This was followed with hoots and jeers from our guests. I can only remember hearing Max in a very quiet voice behind me saying, "I've been to a great many ground-breaking ceremonies in my life, and without any doubt this is the worst!" Chairman of the Radcliffe Board of Trt/stees from 1935 to 1972, actingpresident of Rad-

cliffe in 1964-65, Helen Homans Gilbert '36 was also the first woman president of the Harvard Hoard of Overseers, in 1975- 76.

George Weller What is the meaning of sovereignty in today's world? In 1931, when I began roaming between Vienna, Rome, Athens, and Cairo as a foreign correspondent, I used to feel that the larger controls of sovereignty could be left to President Lowell, his planned "Society of Fellows," and a few fellers in Washington. Rarely did I reflect that even the sovereignty of wandering bodies like myself (very precious to me) was sheathed as hardily as the pearl in many diaphragms of national rights. Soon I found out. This insight came to me uneasily when one of my detested international villains, old Samuel Insull, an evader slippery as Vesco and Cornfeld today, escaped with millions of his investors' from Chicago. Because Greece had no extradition treaty, he chose the shadow of the Parthenon. FDR eventually got him back, under my eyes, using a crafty Harvard-educated Yankee ambassador, Lincoln MacVeagh, and a threat of cheating Greek-American veterans of their bonus. But wait! When Cook County put this Briton in the dock, public wrath had cooled. T h e judges found that Greece was right. He had swindled money, but not illegally. Sovereignty, exploited by him, won him release. Off he flew, to Paris. Now when Americans lend their bombers to Israel or use them anywhere—skipping like stones in a lake over the impediments of sovereign law—whether in allied or "unfriendly" countries—I think of old Insull, dressing up like Charley's Aunt to sneak out of Athens, but captured anyway. And released, but without the clamor of Dreyfus, though equally significant. . . . Fulbright calls it "the arrogance of power." Things still go wrong for me. Eisenhower stood strong for Egypt's sovereignty against Britain, France, and Israel at Suez. But secretly, he pieced out our imperfect intelligence by send-


EJgON © 1986 Exxon Corporation

O P E N K Q U E S T I O N continued

ten down 127 lifetime goals, including No. 77 ("Ride an elephant, camel, ostrich, and bronco"). No. 117 ("Milk a poisonous snake"), No. 118 ("Light a match with a .22 rifle"), and No. 124 ("Circumnavigate the globe"). John Goddard scores about as high on the Walter Vlitty Big-Time Dreamer Scale as anyone I've ever met. I've been thinking a lot about dreams lately When Geddafi's infant must because I've spent this year writing about people who've made theirs come die in her ruins because of true. These people have all devoted a bomb in Berlin, too many their lives to goals they conceived early in life, the kind most of us abandon as diaphragms of sovereignty too childish, too impractical, too expenare broken. sive, or too foolish. What made them not give up? If I could answer that question I'd probably be off riding an ostrich myself instead of working in a taking 34 livesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and the Sixth Fleet midtown Manhattan office building. was held back from their rescue, even But I have been struck by a few things in international waters. . . . Israel has that many successful dreamers seem to found excuses to bomb Baghdad, to have in common, most of them dating land airborne troops in Beirut, to overfrom childhood. whelm a French plane in Uganda because the passengers were Jewish, to It helps to have parents who don't disguise a commando as a passenger laugh at your dreams. When John Godplane and fly into Argentina to take dard told his parents he wanted to be an Eichmann, to kill 72 in Tunisia, twice explorer, they didn't tell him he'd outto wipe out Syria's air force. grow it. They bought him a pith helThis is now our model. . . . Small met. When ten-year-old Randolph wonder that when Israel kidnaps eight Johnston became interested in sailhundred civilian hostages, from Lebaboats, his father helped him build a non, that Arab "terrorists" take a U.S. two-masted, square-rigged model brig passenger plane, and win their exwith a hand-sculpted lead anchor. Johnchange. . . . When Geddafi's infant ston, now 82, is a sailor and sculptor must die in her ruins because of a bomb who has built his own bronze foundry in Berlin, too many diaphragms of sovon a remote island in the Bahamas. ereignty are broken. When Rich Baker, a twelve-year-old horror-movie buff, told his parents he George Wetter '29 is the author of Not to wanted to make monsters when he grew up, they bought him greasepaint Eat, Not for Love (1033), a Harvard novel. A Pulitzer prize-winning war corre- and mortician's wax. At 35, he is now spondent. Wetter has reported from Greece,the most celebrated designer of movie the Mitt die East, the Balkans, ami South- apes, vampires, zombies, and werewolves in Hollywood. east Asia. It helps to be an only or first-born child. The kind of fantasy that becomes a lifelong dream seems to be nurtured by solitude. It helps to be something of a social outcast during childhood and adolescence. How do people make their dreams It helps to read about other people come true? who have had similar dreams. Goddard One rainy afternoon in 1939, a shy and owned biographies of dozens of Victoriundersized fifteen-year-old named John an explorers. Johnston read Robinson Goddard sat down at the kitchen table Crusoe until it was tattered. and wrote: "No. 1. Explore the Nile." It helps not to have too many interHe stared at that sentence for a while, ests. Renaissance children become Reand then he wrote: "No. 2. Explore the naissance adults. Single-minded chilAmazon." Five hours later he had writdren become dreamers.

ing V-Z planes over Russia. And the Soviets knew it, but were not ready for reply. Some day they may be. In 2000, who will seem right? Israel's abuse of sovereignty reached us when in 1967 they shelled and torpedoed the spy ship L'.S.S. Liberty,

Anne Fadiman



I've been moved by the letters I've gotten from people who have told me about their own more modest dreams, ones that required neither pith helmets nor mortician's waxâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;building a house, going to college, planting a vineyard, writing a rock'n'roll song, establishing a theater company in memory of an actor son who died in Vietnam. All these people say the same thing: Do the dream now. If you put it off, it will slip through your fingers until you've lost it forever. By the way, John Goddard did make his dream come true, or at least 108/127 of it. He's 61 now, and he's in terrific shape, if you overlook the scars from piranha and rattlesnake bites he acquired while working on No. 2 and No. 117. He has to be, because among the nineteen goals he has left are No. 21 ("Climb Mount Everest") and No. 125 ("Visit the moon"). Anne Fadiman '74 writes the column "American Dreamers" forLife Magazine.

Audrey Cohen Have you seen a miracle?

If you have had children, you remember, no doubt, the first year and a half of their lives. There were cries, agonizing and painful. There were coos, delightful and charming. At times there was the incessant sound of repetitive ha-ha and ta-ta and da-da. At other times there were trills and spits and gurgles and lip twiddling. All together, an amazing amount of babble and prattle came from the throats and mouths of these little human beings. You, the parent, had to interpret wfhat all of this sound meant. Hunger? Wetness? Sleepiness? Joy? Anger? Love? Hate? Noise just for the fun of producing it? I remember many of the sounds my first child produced. I remember my attempts to understand them. I remember my efforts to teach my child the meaning of a few simple sounds. Time and again I repeated words and pointed to their referents. Time and again I repeated simple phrases describing my actions or my child's actions. For what seemed like forever, my child only responded with more spitting and gurgling and trilling. And then, the first few clear and distinct words appeared.

1983: "I woulda made a fortune if..? 1984: "I coulda made a killing but,? 1985: "I shoulda sold it when..? 1986: Tm buying Nuveen?


f you're a sensible investor, you do a lot of things before you risk your money. You read, you listen, you ask, you learn, you figure the upside and downside possibilities. Finally if it all seems okay, you invest. What happens? You make some here, you lose some there. And, after it's all said and done, if you come out ahead, say, 10% a year before taxes, you're doing better than most people. But not better than you'll do with Nuveen. With Nuveen-without all the figuring, all the angling, all the risk, all the hoping-you'll get pretty much the same interest. But you can wind up with a lot more money in your pocket You see, with Nuveen you don't have to pay a penny in federal income tax on the interest you earn. What you earn you keep* The current Nuveen TaxExempt Unit Trust will pay you tax-free interest at the rate of 777% to 797% * What kind of return on a taxable investment would you need to match what you'll

"The bottom line is I would haw done better with Nuveen. It pays high interest audit's t-ax-free.' keep with Nuveen? A lot more than the average return. Ask yourself this. In today's investment climate, where can you find an investment that secure paying that kind of interest? The fact is, Nuveen offers you a conservative opportunity to get a current and continuing high return, And you won't have to worry about a single woulda, coulda or shoulda. For more complete information on the Nuveen Tax-Exempt Unit Trust, including charges and expenses, request a prospectus. Read it carefully before you invest or send money.

*Ojrrent reiurn is computed by dividing net annual income, after annual expenses, by the public offering price. Returns shown are for a purchase of Nuveen National Trust 363 on 7/24/86. The return will vary with changes in income, expenses, purchase price, payment option and the amount invested. Income may be subject to state and local taxes.



HM9 86

The Nuveen Tax-Exempt Unit Trust, 140 Broadway, New York. NY 10005

Please send me free information, including a prospectus, on the current Nuveen Tax-Exempt Unit Trust. Name

A: icfnsst City


Home Telephone


Business Telephone

Name Ol My Broker or Adv ser Organisation I anticipate an initial inveslmenl ot S_




It's not what you earn. It's what you keep" • <• • i ': ..-'••' •'.!

John Nuveen & Co. Incorporated, Investment Bankers 333 Wesl Wacker Dr. Chicago IL 60606 • 140 Broadway. New York, NY 10005 Atlanta/Austin/Boston/Dallas/Fi Worlh/Houston/Juneau/Los Angeles/Miami/Minneapolis/Philadelphia/Phoenix/San Francisco/Sealtle/Washingtor, D C


O P E N r Q U E S T I O N continued

That this other mind was finally beginning to recognize sounds, associate them with their correct meanings, and reproduce them at will was thrilling. Language is surely one of man's most singular achievements. T h e beginnings of language in the mind of my one-anda-half-year-old child was as awesome as anything I know. I have seen that miracle. Audrey Biller Cohen '68, M.B.A. '70, D.B.A. '75, is "a mother and wife. . . . As a houselwld manager I constantly call on financial and organizational skills. . . . 1 am at once playground mediator and tax adviser, wardrobe consultant and insurance analyst, chaplain and purchasing agent. 1 am never bored!"

James Fallows What do you wish you'd known, sooner than you actually found it out? I used to think that after you made the big decisions, life just sort of proceeded, on its own. Once you studied a certain subject, chose a certain j o b , married a certain person, settled on a certain style of life, you could sit back and watch the consequences unfold. Life would be like going to a restaurant: you'd study the menu carefully, then lay it down and look to see what the waiter would bring. That's why there was so much pressure about getting into school and finding those first jobs: the waiter was taking orders. In a negative way, I still think that's true. Wrong choices—or more often, bad luck—can often turn out to be permanent. But I had not grasped that good luck and "right" choices are never permanent, and that a fortunate life consists of continually making and remaking the big decisions, until time runs out. I had not imagined the constant struggle to balance contradictory impulses: enjoying the moment versus deferring enjoyment, thinking of yourself versus sacrificing for others, putting the homely virtues of family first versus looking beyond family to the larger world. As soon as you choose one, you've given up something important. So you choose, knowing you'll have to adjust your choice tomorrow. I wish I'd known how much it matters to have 158


friends who can serve as consciences, and as examples. What I wish most, of course, is that I knew how I'd answer this question twenty years from now. A journalist, James M. Fallows '70 is Washington editor of the Atlantic Monthly.

Diana Shaw When are you going to write a real book? It's a question I get after saying I have written three books for young adolescents (two published, one due out next spring). It's a question that comes from short memories and short-sightedness—memories too short to recall the loneliness, the search for meaning, for understanding, and for place that characterize the early teen years; shorts i g h t e d n e s s that fails to see the consequences of neglected, patronized adolescent youth. T h e question says children, as children, are less worthy of the kind of effort and care, discipline and dedication, that go into writing a book. It probably wouldn't occur to anyone to ask a gardener why she labors over seedlings and saplings, why she doesn't devote her energy and skills to the mature plants and trees. And I doubt the people who question the "realness" of my work recognize many of our urgent social problems—teenage pregnancy, swelling violence, and pervasive drug use—as consequences of their attitude toward children. Yet they are—they are consequences of kids trying to be counted in a society that, in every way from national spending priorities to private rental agreements, barely tolerates them. Many seek a sense of self-worth in premature motherhood; many more go after the power conferred by violence and the illusions of strength and significance engendered by drugs. It's only common sense: children who are deprived of dignity and respect will feel they have no reason to live according to the rules established by a society that values them so little. And many, as rising teenage suicide rates tell us, will decide they have no reason to live at all. T h e silent rapport between author

and reader allows the most intimate, effective communication. A book talks straight to the consciousness; it can help its young readers feel grounded in an otherwise baffling, alienating world, a world where everyone else seems co know "what's happening" and seems co have some stake in keeping them in the dark. Confused, self-conscious, evolving adolescents can benefit more than anyone from that unique quality of reading. Books written with their needs in mind are very real to the young teenagers who read them. And so—to answer the question—I will keep writing as I am now, to create a place for adolescent readers where they know themselves to be individuals with dignity, deserving self-respect, a place where they can discover their power and importance—the things that will enable them to participate in a society worthy of them. Diana Shaw '80 has written Options: The Female Teen's Guide to Coping with the Problems of Today's World and Make the Most of a Good Thing: You.

Albert H. Gordon From a New Yorker's perspective, will the current New England economic revival continue or will it begin to fade? Because of my long association with Harvard University and the Roxbury Latin School, I could not respond other than positively. Both have been in existence for more than 340 years and both are as strong today as they have ever been. Their longevity and their continuing excellence provide a strong testimony to the educational power that has been the mainstay of New England and which has provided it with the resources necessary not only to carry it through rough times but to prepare it to withstand prosperity. In the 1920s and 1930s New England's economy seemed doomed as the textile and shoe industries left to go south and westward and the nascent auto industry turned to Detroit. After centuries in which New England's industry had been the engine of the American economy, its potential decline could not have appeared more ominous.

Glimpses of the Harvard Past

Higher Learning Derek Bok

Beyond the Ivory Tower

How three-and-one-half centuries of changes brought complex architectural requirements, and how buildings from Bullfinch to Gropius and LeCorbusier form a coherent whole. The story is a chapter in the history of education and a microcosm of American architectural history. Belknap $30.00

What is distinctive about the Social Responsibilities of American system of higher the Modern University education? How must it change Derek Bok to lead us into the future? President Bok examines these 'All future discussions will profit questions and shows how univer- from the clarity of [Bok s] "Delightful to read.. .The best sities can give students the best analysis." introduction to Harvard's preparation for life in an increas-New York Times Book Review history." -Choice ingly complex world. 'An extremely well-written, "More than just mementoes, these Perceptive.. .balanced.. .graceful." thoughtful and cogent analysis of Selections from essays are highly instructive of the -Clark Kerr some of the most complex and forces that have shaped American Three Centuries $15.00 emotional issues before higher higher education." Revised and Enlarged education today." -Library Journal - Washington Post Book World Edition, Edited by Here is a happy combination of 'As a rough roadmap of one way William Bentinck-Smith literary essay and history. Shifting Edited by universities can proceed...this relationships and power strug'A star-studded well of David Aloian book is a catalyst and a success." gles, a host of colorful personalirefreshment." -San Francisco Chronicle Harvard graduates from the ties, the diverse student body, all -New York Times Book Review 1880 s to the present reflect on $7.95 paper provide insights into a past still 'An extraordinarily varied and their Harvard years. Contribuimportant today. entertaining collection." tors of these 65 essays include $15.00 -New York Herald Tribune Learned Hand, John F Kennedy, An Architectural History A sampler of what teachers, stuCaspar Weinberger, Barbara dents, graduates and visitors have Bainbridge Bunting Tuchman.Jack Lemmon, written about Harvard since its John Updike, Alan Jay Lerner, Completed and beginnings. This new version David Halberstam. * Edited by A History includes a section on Radcliffe Harvard Alumni Association and selections from the past Max Hall Margaret $14.50 decades. "Hall writes interestingly and 2L Hendersen Floyd $20.00 well...his discussion of books, "Admirably coherent publishing economics, and per^" and unified...a sonalities is well balanced." Jj I patient, thoughtful - Library Journal Samuel Eliot Morison *?* portrait of a sinA chronicle of the first sixty years 'Rich in details as to the customs ^jt0h^. tju I ar ins t i t ut ion. of Harvard University Press that 'â&#x20AC;˘ | I | ^ one worthy ot and manners of three centuries. is at once Harvard history, pub\) the tradition Precise and luminous strokes tell Available at your bookstore or lishing history, business history, it justly the story of Commencement and from: intellectual history. Class Day...oflnstitute and Hasty admires." $20.00 Pudding; of Porcellian and A.D. -Architectural and Pi Eta and D.U.; of Navy Record Club and Med. Fac.; of boating and baseball and football..." -New York Times Cambridge. MA 02138 Belknap $9.95 paper

Bernard Bailyn Donald Fleming Oscar Handlin and Stephan Thernstrom

The Harvard Book

College in a Yard II


Harvard University Press

Three Centuries of Harvard

Harvard University


OPEN H QUESTION continued Even as the region reached its economicnadir, it was planting the seeds of the technological revolution that would provide the foundation for the explosive economic growth we are currently witnessing. Its seeds were nurtured in an atmosphere rich in heritage and tradition. As a result of my more than sixty years of association with these institutions, I am superenrhusiastic about the future. I can think of no better way to attempt to repay my debt to them than to continue to work for their future and to say thank you as frequently as possible. Albert H. Gordon '23 is chairman of Kidder, Peal/ody, and Co.

David Riesman Why is there so little concern at Harvard about the race in nuclear arsenals? The question most unsettling and perplexing for me and many of us is why the prospect of "nuclear winter," and of the mounting dangers resulting from both the refinement of nuclear arsenals and their proliferation, has aroused relatively little interest among Harvard student and faculty activists. It is only among a small group of faculty colleagues, many of them scientists, that concern about the race in nuclear arsenals—I do not consider them weapons in any realistic sense—remains a preoccupation, whereas many students and some faculty members direct their energies primarily against the ever available target of an allegedly complicitous University-. It does not take a great deal of inquiry to recognize that while the Soviet Union has sought only to match American technical advances, we have sought superiority beginning with the first dangerous campaign by Edward Teller to make the hydrogen bomb, and then pushing on to the latest "advances" in targeting and control under sea, on land, and in the skies. With the exception of Khrushchev's Cuban adventure, the Soviet Union has been more cautious than the United States, understandably not trusting its own allies; while we not only station nuclear weapons among our allies around the Soviet 160

I [\R\:\RO M\G/U3NE

periphery but appear to watch with only mild remonstrance the creation of nuclear arsenals in Israel and Pakistan. Star Wars is presented as a shelter in the sky, hence idealistic. This dream is still another initiative by Teller and officials such as Richard I'erle which, despite its almost certain failure due to the inherent intricacies, has the coercive potential of threatening a first strike. T h e contrast is stark between today s lack of reaction and the outpouring of protest at Harvard and e l s e w h e r e against the effort under John F. Kennedy to persuade Americans to build backyard or local fallout shelters. This earlier seemingly idealistic but actually provocative tactic was defeated, and faculty and students here joined others elsewhere to mobilize support for the Atmospheric Test Ban Treaty in 1963. Current Soviet willingness to negotiate a ban on underground tests, which would put a crimp in proliferation and in plans for further destabilizing advances, has been resisted, perhaps in part with Strategic Defense Initiative technology in mind, and also to maintain the superheated temperature of Soviet-American relations, hence an arms buildup on all sides. Yet the contemporary7 test ban movement has had minimal support at Harvard. T h e issues, though involving recent history, international politics, and the ability to understand the difference between counterforce and Mutual Assured Destruction as strategic policies, are not forbiddingly technical. Whythen is there so little manifest concern? Is there, as some believe, a sense of hopelessness? Is there a fear, more common among men than among women, to be thought afraid? Are women at Harvard—and there is, as poll data show, a marked gender gap on issues related to violence—more concerned with specifically women's issues? Indeed, it would seem that the refusal of concern cannot be charged primarily to the consumerism, present and anticipatory, nor to the egocentrism of reasonably affluent and well-educated Americans, for great energy is available for human rights, so much so that issues of human rights (including human rights in the Soviet Union and its satellites) take precedence over issues involving human existence itself. David Riesman '31, J.D. '34, is Henry Ford I! prvfessor of social sciences emeritus.

John K. Fairbank How will our ideas of human rights fare in China? Only our ideals can induce us to support warfare. Since "human rights" are our secular religion and we may fight to defend them, we should remember they are culture bound. In other words, human rights may be a universal aspiration but in different cultures they may be institutionalized in different forms. In China, for example, welfare of the aged may be ensured by filial piety rather than by Social Security, by morality more than by law. Again, the right to vote hardly figures in Chinese history but instead, since before the Magna Carta, Chinese have generally had the right to compete in civil service examinations open to talent. From 1065 the examinations were held regularly, and today millions of Chinese take them every year. T h e y are still one of China's alternatives to representative government. Before we fight for human rights abroad, we should understand their value in the local culture. John King Fairbank '29 is Francis Lee Higginson professor of history emeritus.

John G. Dow What would you like to see more of in the national consciousness? In these retirement years I am working to end the nuclear arms race, by persuading leaders, thinkers, and writers in the movement to produce a more unified policy. Peace efforts so far in America reflect immense progress through a diversity of approaches, among them the Freeze, calls for test bans and moratoriums, industrial conversion, nonviolence, unilateral disarmament, opposition to the MX and Trident missiles and, especially, to the Strategic Defense Initiative. The size of the military budget is being questioned. Many of us seek ways of improving relations with the Soviet Union, through cultural and scientific

birthday suits... Harvard style

Of course you know Harvard's having a birthday... its 350th. So grab a birthday suit with real style—from the Harvard Coop. our special HARVARD Visit Harvard 350th Anniversary Shop on the first floor of our Harvard Square store for special commemorative sportswear from Champion, the makers of insignia sportswear. And start celebrating,

A. Knit Sportshirt 50% polyester/50% cotton short sleeve sportshirt features pique material, slit side seams a n d left chest embroidery of the 350th seal. In maroon. S, M, L XL. $23 B. Crew Neck Sweatshirt 50% acrylic/50% cotton sweatshirt in maroon or grey. S, M, L XL. $18 C. V-Neck Sweater Orion/acrylic maroon V-neck sweater with embroidered left chest. S, M. L, XL. $37.50 D. W h i r l 50% polyester/50% cotton white body t-shirt with contrasting maroon neck a n d sleeve trim. S, M, L, XL. $9 Item A Knit Sportshirt B Oev; NeCK S.veols'nrt C V-Neck Sweater D T-Shirt E Sl-orts F. 100% Cotton T-Shirl G Hooded Sweatshirt H. White Crew Neck Sweatshirt (Not shown}

SEND ORDERS TO: HARVARD COOPERATIVE SOCIETY RO. BOX 231 CAMBRIDGE. MA 02238 Name Address _ City Zip ' Check 1 . Coop Charge Accounl No

.Stale. _TeL M.O Coop § • MasterCard u visa

E. Shorts 100% cotton twill shorts with elastic waistband a n d side slits. In white S, M. L XL. $9 F. 100% Cotton T-Shirt Maroon t-shirt with t a p e d neck a n d shoulders. S, M. L. XL $9 G. Hooded Sweatshirt 50% cotton/50% acrylic white hooded sweatshirt. S, M, L, XL. H. {'Same design available in a white crew neck at $18. Not shown.} $22




dSf> Qty.



To al Mdse. D American Express .Exp Date

To order call toll free 1-800-792-5170 (in Mass.) or 1-800-343-5570 (outside Mass.] Please a d d S3 tor postage a n d handling

Shipping & Handling Total



Q U E S T I O N continued

exchanges, joint ventures into space, and by mutual accommodation in attitudes. Bringing these diverse approaches together is a challenge. We seek strength in union. Agreement among many is surely more effective than individual advocacy of different activities. America has a great resource of scientists, historians, philosophers, and statesmen, also of grass-roots activists who address nuclear matters. Some of us are trying to bring the diversities together by calling an assembly of outstanding individuals to agree on policies. It is also necessary to establish priorities for handling the diverse problems. Our founding fathers were a notable example of unity. Meeting together for many weeks in Philadelphia, they ironed out their differences and hammered out our Declaration and our Constitution. T h e group with whom I work would rouse American leaders to the present situation. Those of like mind in the Harvard community who are already

working in the cause could further the agreement so necessary among us all. For this effort must reach beyond our nucleus, beyond Harvard, to the consciousness of the nation. John G. Dow '27 was a student of George Grafton Wilson, professor of international law at Harvard, who "stirred up my concern for international problems." A member of Americans Against Nuclear War, in Albany, New York, Dow hopes to publish his book, A Call for Leaders, soon.

Charlton Ogburn Is there a way to a durable international peace? The problem, as I see it after half a century's exposure to it, is one of gaining international acceptance of the right of every nation to be secure from intervention by force from without. But how possibly—given the U.S.S.R.'s disre-

gard of any such right on the part of the nations within the grasp of the Red Army in the years 1944-48 (except Iran) and in Afghanistan for the past seven— can this be brought about? Perhaps it cannot be. Inasmuch, however, as the only alternative would seem to be an ever more burdensome and dangerous arms race, I think we should sec what can be done. Let the U.S. pledge its unequivocal support of the principle that every nationality shall be master in its own house and, I suggest, we shall raise a banner to which other governments and peoples will increasingly rally. Would not then a potential transgressor, faced with a world ready to unite in anger against it, have second thoughts? The trouble is that the U.S., while courageously defending the principle in WO World Wars and in Korea, has itself been repeatedly violating it, and at staggering human, economic, and political costs. It has done so in Southeast Asia, indirectly and then directly; in China; in Iran; indirectly but with major consequences in the Middle East; in Cuba;


WHEN THE FIRE IS HOT, THE JAZZ IS COOL, AND THE PLACE IS JUMP1N,' KINDLY REFRAIN FROM DANCING ON THE STEINWAY: Baby, it's grand—that Baby Grand. Jazz in The Bar by the fire 'til one. One of four grand new'places to entertain and be entertained. In The Cafe, the Harpist until nine, supper 'til midnight. In The Dining Room, piano during dinner followed by cordials and classical music in The Lounge. Jazz and all that jazz 'til one. When you're entertaining the idea to go out for the evening, we've got a new definition of putting on The Ritz-Carlton.


* The Riti Carlton. 15 Arlington Street, Boston, MA 02117. For reservations toll 617-536-57C0 or 800-241-3333.



in Central America. We have subverted what we should have struggled to establish. The U.S. and the U.S.S.R. are not nations as others are but geographical realizations of an ideology. Neither has a name as a nation and their populations have none as nationalities. (All inhabitants of the New World are Americans, while the Russians are in a minority in the U.S.S.R.) Ideology is their raison d'etre. Both from the start have considered themselves models for all mankind on which other peoples will pattern themselves unless fmstrated by forces of evil. Judgmental zeal is built into them. Our system may be the best in the world, the Soviet the worst, but we cannot expect the U.S.S.R. to be brought to desist from high-handed, self-righteous interference with the selfdetermination of other societies unless we forswear it. A former member of the State Department, Charlton Ogbttrn '32 is the author of fourteen books, most recently T h e Mysterious William Shakespeare.

l Urv»aUniw«*»

w..„li. it


toMu ao

* "

James Maraniss

draft. We believe in Lou, and Sweet Lou believes in something greater. I'll bet he felt no twinge of furtive glee when Oil Can Boyd (another team's ace) showed a high liver count.

What is your greatest regret in life? That I don't know anything about anything. I read today that the Tigers excused Lou Whitaker from an exhibition game in Florida on March 17 because the game had been dedicated to St. Patrick. Sweet Lou is a Jehovah's Witness, and they do not venerate this, or perhaps any, saint. I'll ask Myra, another black Witness, who comes to see me every other Saturday to talk about preparing for the Day of Judgment. She's undiscouraged by my failure to read the booklets I buy from her. Some day she'll give up, though, when she sees the pit of benign unbelief that she's feeding, never to fill, with her science. My dad and I own Lou Whitaker; he plays second base for the Jumbos, our Rotisserie League team. He cost more than his statistics are worth, but we plan to re-sign him at any price in the April

James E. Maraniss '66 teaches Romance languages at Amherst College.

Erich Segal When you leave this vale of tears, what do you think will be your greatest regret? There was a time when I shared the blithe and dismissive attitude that all ecologists were cranks. I regarded warnings about the pollution of the earth, sea, and air as the quacking of odd ducks. But now I see—too late, I fear—that we, the generation who are adults in the last quarter of the twentieth century, are leaving our children an awesome


T h e nation's oldest university is also among its greate s t — a n d most discerning—collectors of art. Displayed in three s p e c t a c u l a r m u s e u m s , the Harvard collections span three millennia, from prehistory to the p r e s e n t , and have been gathered from all parts of the world. Now, on the university's 350th anniversary, a new book, H A R V A R D U N I V E R S I T Y A R T M U S E U M S : A Guide to the Collections, leads you through the masterpieces of the F o g g , the Busch-Reisinger, and the newly opened Arthur M. Sackler M u s e u m . T h e university's collection of modern art is given special treatment in another new book, MODERN

A R T A T H A R V A R D — n o t only a guide to some of the most enduring and r e p r e s e n t a t i v e art of the late 19th and 20th c e n t u r i e s , but an exciting history of Harvard's unique involvement in the always controversial work of living artists. The artistic legacy of a great university—in two magnificent volumes: H A R V A R D U N I V E R S I T Y ART M U S E U M S : .4 Guide to the Collections, 320 pages, 400 illustrations, 80 in full color. $45.00. M O D ERN A R T AT H A R V A R D , 128 p a g e s , 135 illustrations, 60 in full color. $35.00. At bookstores e v e r y w h e r e , or call (212) 888-1969 (800) 227-7210




OPKN r QUESTION confirmed legacy. Nuclear energy is wonderful, but radiation does kill, and the residue from miraculous new chemicals makes toxic all our pure streams. Yet who of us did not start saving for his children's education the moment they were bom? On one level, we cherish the future of our progeny—and on the other, we have fouled the world in which they will have to live. If there is ever a true day of judgment, our generation will be weighed in the scale-, ami found wanting. Erir/i Segafs most remit book is T h e Class. He graduate/I from HarvardCollege in 1958.

John Jay Osborn What is the ultimate meaning of life? T h e answer is my family. I'm forty years old, have been married eighteen years. When my father was forty and married eighteen years, 1 was out of his way, eighteen and on my own way to Harvard. My dad could buckle down into his "productive years." But my children are six and eight; they need attention. My wife is a doctor; her career is as important as mine. So we're both involved in all the elements of raising the children, miming the house. And we're involved in each other's lives because we arc constantly balancing priorities, carving up the day on a minute by minute basis. This is what's known as a "high maintenance" relationship. My wife and I have to spend a lot of time talking to each other; otherwise the system derails. We have to be aware of each other's moods, particular needs. When we aren't, the retribution is swift and strong. I think we are engaged in a variety of the Japanese manufacturing and marketing strategy that American companies are trying to emulate. Everything has to be done on a "do it once, do it right" schedule. Deliveries from suppliers are arranged to coincide with time of need to avoid inventory buildup. Each member of the assembly line is responsible for the whole unit, not just a part. If something goes wrong, the whole plant shuts down; wc have 100-percent quality control. Only, of course, in our case, we're supplying emotional boosts, 164


love, affection, on time, when needed, no misses. I don't get as many books written this way. but books aren't the product. It is the most satisfying way to live; you're truly engaged. No question about it. John Jay Osborn '67, J.D. '70, is a writer. His books include T h e Paper Chase anil T h e Man Who Owned New York.

Martha Lyman What shaping experiences still lie ahead for me? It has been almost a year since my grandmother died. As she was dying, and since her death, I have often reflected upon the experiences she had and the person she was. More often than not I have wondered, at the same time, what experiences and people will be woven together with my personality to become the fabric of my life. As I reflect upon my grandmother's life, I tend to focus on her response ro events over which she had little or no control. 1 try to understand what role, if any, the magnitude of technological and

social change she experienced—growing from a child in "Indian Territory" to an adult witnessing the opening of a new frontier in space—played in the development of her character. I also wonder whether the personal grief she carried through much of her life over the deaths of parents, a child, her husband, and two grandsons became the source of her strength and warmth, and indeed the thread which held our large family together. If 1 live to my grandmother's 93 years, I am only one third of the way through my life. While I have been concentrating on the choices I am making that will influence what I do in life and who I am, I am coming to realize that there may be those experiences over which I have no control that will have greater influence. I wonder what will those experiences be, and how will I respond? Martha West Lyman lives in Manchester, New Hampshire, with her husband. Daniel '73, and their daughter. Anna. After six years of working on natural resource polity issues for a conservation o/ganizatioii. she is doing freelance work on many of the same issues and spending more time in the chatlending and wonderful world of a three- warold.

Edward Hoagland How many? A question that many writers turn over (it has its analogies, of course, for other professions) is how many children they would like to have had and how many books they can reasonably hope to writein a lifetime. If the books are to have much chance of being one-of-a-kind, they may not earn enough money for the author to father many children. Fathering is a complex matter nowadays, involving tens of thousands of dollars as well as many thousands of fine busy hours. Kids are no longer expected to raise themselves, and some parents actually "budget" for the process, I think. I have one nonpareil child going off to college this fall, and have published twelve books. Each of the latter was the best I was able to write at the time— but why not twelve children and onlv

one book? Or why didn't I strike a better balance and produce six of each? Well, at 53, I've had exactly that number of books in me, no more and no less, and have gone gimpy doing them. Yet nevertheless—yes, certainly—I would have had six kids if my readers had supported the notion. I've never turned with relief to the company of adults from the company of children, and tend to believe that fecundity of any sort breeds further fecundity. I've seen writers parched of humor and flexibility by midcareer from what I've suspected was mostly not having had any children. Love takes loads of time, yet in my experience can double or redouble the pace of one's ideas—they came fast and furiously when my daughter was small and I was waking up

The guarantee that the rest of the world aims for . . . from The Company Store. Compare our quality, our styling and our price. If you don't feel our down comforters are superior to any other comforter, call our toll free number and I will personally send a UPS truck to your home — at my expense — to pick up the comforter. No questions asked. And I'll make certain you receive an immediate refund (in full) or exchange . . . I'm that confident. Like our guarantee, the quality of our down comforters is unmatched. Each comforter is filled with A SUPERIOR BLEND OF HAND SELECTED WHITE GOOSE AND DUCK DOWN,TCS and crafted with hand-guided stitching — a skill practiced by our dedicated seamstresses in La Crosse, Wisconsin, since 1911. I'm proud to offer these down products at a manufacturer direct price. No -1 «v1 •fl« -t-tdepartment store markup. No middleman markup. No expensive downtown rents. And C^^ tA **V° ^*^-^-*-^-inow. The Company Store quality and the world's best guarantee . . . an unbeatable O President Thc C m p a n y Store combination. ° -I LJ



Exclusive Ring stilch center design — Luxuriously soft 100% Cambric Cotton and hand-guided stitching. Style #C184—Colors: Light Blue, White, Dusty Rose, Pink, Champagne or Silver Down OUR Dimensions Fill Value PRICE Twin 60" x 86" 31 oz. $230 $125 Queen/Full 86" x 86" 39 oz. $310 $155 King 102" x 86" 45 oz. $370 $185 102" x 96" 51 oz. Calif. King $415 $205


CAMBRIC COTTON CHANNEL DOWN COMFORTER Timeless Design and Quality — Silky-soft 100% cotton and hand-stitched, channel styling combine for perfect natural comfort. Style #080—Colors: White, Champagne, Light Blue, Dusty Rose, Silver or Pink Down OUR Value Dimensions PRICE Fill Twin $160 60" x 86" $79 24 oz. $210 Queen/Full 86" x 86" $109 32 oz. $270 102" x 86" 38 oz. $139 King $310 102" x 96" 43 oz. $159 Calif. King

DELIVERY IMMEDIATE We ship within 24 to 48 hours.


TO ORDER OR TO REQUEST A FREE CATALOG CALL TOLL FREE 1-800-356-9367 Ext. F818, or use our coupon. • 26 Down Comforter Styles • Down Pillows • Down Outerwear • 100% Merino Wool Mattress Pads

KARO STEP DOWN COMFORTER Absolutely exquisite — 100% Cambric Cotton — handstitched, Karo design for uniform loft and warmth. Style #C177—Colors: Creme, Dusty Rose, White, Light Blue, Silver or Pink Down OUR Dimensions Fill Value PRICE 30 oz. $225 $120 Twin 60" x 86" 44 oz. $300 Queen/Full 86" x 86" $160 $360 King 102" x 86" 50 oz. $200

. I—I Payment enclosed (check or money order. Date We accept: Q MasterCard D VISA D American Express O Diners Club Acct. No Ex. Date_ Name Address , . City/Slate/Zip Daytime Phone ( ) QTY rRKTir.i TOTAL SIZE ITEM STYLE* COLOR

• *We ship UPS ground service unless yuu request otherwise S8.S0 to your order.



Ship.. Hdlg. & lnsur. -S5.00 per item


•UPS 2nd Day Air = lO'IAl


SEND TO: The Company store, Dept F818, 500 Company Store Road, La CrOSSe, Wl 5 4 6 0 1 . Our down is supplied by United Feather and Down, America's premier down processor.

OPEN g QUESTION continued at all hours. Sure I would have gone ahead and wanted four or five children if I could have provided a living for them. What else is life for but to write books and have children? Ah, what a poor-mouthing blowhardyon have become, Ted Hoagland!â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Harvard Magazine's editor John Bethcll will complain. How simple you make it all out to be! In the first place, for most of our classmates ('54) who have not indulged their muses so relentlessly, money has not been quite as much of a problem as time. You work at home. For thousands of afternoons you were privileged to watch your daughter come back after school, while they were piling up frequent-flier mileage. "Well so was I in airplanes!"â&#x20AC;&#x201D;1 now tell him indignantly. "And hiking with spearmen in Africa and riding freight barges on the Yukon River and teaching semesters as a visiting fireman in Iowa City." And you wanted to have it all? Live each year as ifit might be your //w//'Bethcll asks with a smile. "Exactly." And you think that fry hiking with spearmen in Africa and riding on freight barges down the Yukon and publishing books that sell in four figures and having one child you have come close to having it all? " N o . T h a t ' s why I raised the question." But you hoot no answers? "No." / thougfitso. That's why you were asked to contribute. We have no space in this snazzy magazine for answered questions, savs Bethcll. Edward Hoagland '54 is the author of Seven Rivers West, published in September.

Rona Jaffe What does your work mean to you? My work is the way I deal with life. Writing is my way of surviving and interpreting events and feelings, mine and other people's; emotions, relationships, observations, from shocks and catastrophes to the day-to-day struggle. If I can't handle something at the time, I can manage it later in a book. Painful experiences are exorcised and understood, villains shown up. T h e clever reIftfi


tort I didn't give because I didn't think of it will eventually come out of the mouth of one of my characters. T h e writer's revenge! Rona Jaffe '51 is the author of Class Reunion and After the Reunion.

John Finley

however, become relevant to those of other professions. Common logic keeps uniting; the realization opens to the upper half of the hourglass. Marriage, children, and advancing friendships add their enlargement. Reason and gratitude, clarity and charity, increasingly intertwine. T h e y carry back to college tutorials, and other former meetings between old and young, moments that vivify both. Spirit and mind, the personal and the shared, comprise education.

What is education? Mr. Eliot's extension of collegiate to graduate education epochally enlarged the young clergyman John Harvard's bequest of his library to the infant College. Human growth asks mental growth. T h e future president's foreign travels less advanced his chemistry* than his educational vision. Europe lacked colleges, Oxford and Cambridge formal provision for graduate study. In his gradually achieved union of the two stages, through the Law and Medical Schools, the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, and by the free elective system the greatly enlarged college offered, his invention of the universitycollege revolutionized Harvard and spread to the nation. By adding concentration, tutorial, and finally the Houses, Mr. Lowell both disciplined and humanized college study, and Mr. Conant's General Education expanded it. The tie between mental and personal growth turns subtler in these technical times. Yet if to say "This is my typewriter" makes a sentence and tells us a fact, saying so omits billions of other encircling facts, hence inherently challenges the speaker. All sentences look both in and out. Again, the experience recurs of intending a paragraph to express the ideas A, B, and C only to realize that the more basic ideas D, E, and F lurk beneath; G, H, and I may finally dawn, usually to await another try. Teaching is similar; a familiar route suddenly strikes a crossroad to enter which proves both daunting and inspiriting. Seniors in different fields occasionally converge to describe their honors essays; they lack the details of each others' subjects, yet prove able to follow the several trains of thought. The experience persists; onward years first narrow, then expand like an hourglass. To start in a profession demands mastering its special methods and terminology, which soon.

John H. Finley Jr. '25, Ph.D. '33, L.H.D. '68, is Eliot professor of Greek literature emeritus.

Mark O'Donnell Is life, as George M. Cohan wrote, "a very funny proposition after all"? Yes or no, not some complicated wishywashy answer. Even if I asked nicely, I couldn't answer this. What, "funny" meaning "comic" or "unnerving and inexplicable"? After all? How could anyone test this vague if moxie assertion? .-Ml right then, Yes and No. I know everyone secretly rejects Yes and No as an answer, in fact as the answer to virtually everything (nudism, Lenin, Cecil B. DeMille, etc.), but that may demonstrate why I also need to laugh. Yes and No are precariously balanced, and suspense needs and breeds comic relief. Yes, or arguably, No: advances in science could make this a Utopian, critically overpopulated world, but would that be "funny"? No pain, no refrain. Even the universally lionized laughter of children seems sweet only downwind of the atrocities that prompt it. No, but perhaps, Yes: "funny" as an idea may be superseded by an earth beyond caricature, an overgrazed, spikeweaponed dinosaur with a panicked peanut brain at either end. Tragedy is the acknowledged fact-facer in the otherwise unemployable Muse family. Still, lies and loose gun control make the funny papers go round. To cop out doubly, or as much as eightfold by some standards, I leave my non-answer finally to someone else, whom I admit I haven't read, but I

- H A R V A R D


Steeped in American Tradition


1986 Smaller than actual

-Harvard was already a legendary American Institution in 1767. when master silversmith. Paul Revere, honored the school with his elegant engraving "Westerly View of the Collcdges in Cambridge New England." Little did Revere knowthat he too was destined to be written in the pages of American history, as one of our foremost patriots. Kcvere's work of an, held in sacred trust throughout the years, will be re-created to mark Harvard's 350th Anniversary. To complete this arduous task, a world renowned craftsman was sought out . . Frank Gasparro. 11th Chief Engraver. United Stales Mint. Ciasparro's tenure at the U.S. Mint from Roosevelt to Reagan will also leave an indelible mark on American 1 listory. 1 lis superb designs of the Kennedy half dollar, the Eisenhower and Anthony dollars and the Lincoln Memorial cent, have set a standard of perfection in engraving that other nations can only strive to achieve. ( j a s p a r r o has painstakingly sculpted Rcverc's work to absolute perfection. His bas-relief images of Harvard Hall. Stoughton, Massuchusett, Mollis and Holdcn Chapel will be acclaimed by the connoisseurs and critics alike, as a genuine masterpiece.

'IllOROYOUHCLS .999IIKI Sll.VtlUS.Ci.l. â&#x20AC;˘)!

OFFICIAL ORDER FORM Please cmcr my order for the official Harvard H50th Anniversary pure silver conimcnu>rutivc(s). depicting ihc Revere/Gasparro engraving. (A) One trov ounce pure .W)S> fine silver ingoi'824,00 plus 82.50 shipping and handling. number of units (H)Ten trov 0UHCC6 pure ,999 fine stiver mfiot #195.00 plus 84.75 shipping & handling number o| units COMPLETE SET (C)Onc troy ounce pure .999 fine silver ingot. Ten trov ounces pure .999 fine silver ingot'. 8219.00 per scl. (Includes shipping & handnumber of set* ling 87.25 savings alsn includes matching rcg. numbers) FL residents add 5 * lax 8_ TOTAL F.NCLOSKl>8_ Check.

Money (irdcr_

. Money Order American Express Personal Check Expiration Date Card No. Signature (cardholder) SI IIP TO: Name

Address City/Suttc/2tp Please allow 30 to 60 days for delivery. Return to: Silversmiths Group International 700 W. Ilillsboro Blvd.

" t a n s for the Revere/Gasparro design to be transferred to precious metal ingots prompted the selection of America's oldest and most prestigious private mint . . . Medallic Art Co., Danbury, CT. Their m i n t m a s t c r s . under the watchful eye of Gasparro, have struck the obverse from specially prepared dyes. The pcarlized finish gives new life to the grand old buildings at Harvard. The balance of the commemorative is completed in a highly polished proof finish. The reverse of each unit displays the official 350th anniversary symbol. t h e s e extremely rare works of art may be ordered in two sizes. Ten troy ounces and one troy ounce of pure .999 fine silver. Each ingot bears its own registration number and is accompanied by a velvet presentation case and certificate of authenticity. All who have been touched by Harvard's great heritage may wish to add one of these official commemoralivcs in their personal collection or acquire one for friends or special clients. This edition will be available only dining the anniversary year. In January 1987 the actual dyes will be turned over to the Harvard Historical Archives . . . to be added to the elite collection of artifacts that have already been steeped in American tradition.

heeilield Beach. FL 33441

Smaller than actual size.

Depicted from Gasparro's origina plaster.


OiiiwmiMj Xj.wup ::_ __ y/i/ei/ta/io/iaL y/ic. 700 W. Ilillsboro Blvd. Decrfteld Beach, FL 33441 (305)421-2200



the right answers, I'm not presumptuous enough to think that you don't. Besides, yours may be entirely different Atark O'Donnell 16 has written off-Broad- from mine. And you probably have a aiwy comedies including Thai's It, Folks!, closed mind and think mine are wrong. In the second place, for a variety of Fables for Friends, and The Nice and the Nasty. Knopf recendy published a col- reasons, I'm not particularly interested lection of his humorous pieces called Ele- in the answers, and you shouldn't be mentary Education. either. No matter how sophisticated or significant the questions are, the answers usually are boring, and at this stage of our lives, who wants to spend any time on boring stuff? If you waste time dwelling on answers, there's no time left to divine the intriguing questions. As a writer, what are you most apprehensive about? In the third place, . . . I forget whatever was in third place. I am concerned about encroachments entire budgets threatened, and with against free speech, coupled with (and their board members facing organized Frank Sahigian '55 is an English major caused by) an increasing intolerance for campaigns to brand them as "bigots" alio adjusts his life so that the lessons of his differences of opinion. The phrase "free and oust them. In Coral Gables, Floracademic experience remain true. speech" has, I bet, a ho-hum quality to ida, a theatre found itself "condemned" it as you read this. However, as a playby the city council, and then received wright, I have had some firsthand expethree death threats. There are many rience that has made the issue quite examples. real, and personal, for me. No one has to like my play. But I am My best-known play is Sister Mary Ig- alarmed by the number of senators, city natius Explains It A/I For You. It is writ- council members, mayors, and the like What about the future? ten out of my own religious background who seem to believe that free speech as a Catholic, and presents the rigid means only the expression of majority A hundred years ago, as a small boy in a dogma taught to me and many others in opinion. Free speech has to protect all niral Massachusetts town, I watched my the late Fifties Church in a comic and speech, popular and unpopular. I see father (M.D. 1875) practice medicine biting way. conservative and fundamentalist groups without the electronic devices and antiopposing this idea with great vigor and The play has been critically praised, biotics of today. Unaided also, my effectiveness. Those who disagree with but has also been the focus of many vomother performed broad ranges of them must not presume this problem ciferous protests. In St. Louis, two state household activities. Now many of will take care of itself. senators attempted to keep it from these varied family abilities are lost. opening; when they didn't succeed, The modern, often working, mother rethey wrote into law that the nonprofit Christopher Durang '71 has won Obit lies greatly on others to do everyday theatre that did the play could never awards for his plays Sister Mary Ignatius chores. Today's father may be a specialagain receive state arts funding. (This Explains It All For You and The Marist concentrating on details, speaking law was overturned.) Many colleges riage of Bette & Boo. A film of his play his own technical language not readily who allow their drama departments to Beyond Therapy is planned, directed by understood by his neighbor. We do less, do the play find themselves with their Robert Alt/nan. lie lives in tim York City. we understand less! Compounding the problem is the aging of America. In 1886 the average U.S. life expectancy was about 45. Now 45-year-olds have over half their adult life still ahead of them! Our vocations' importance lessens and our daily-living concerns increase at our new older ages. Why is life? What is happiness? Does it matter? These changes occur in a time when Look. I have a confession to make. I Don't get me wrong. I have nothing basic living is less practiced. 'Ibo, an incan't answer those questions. Wait a against these questions. I think they're creasing responsibility is thrust upon minute. Thai's not true. I can answer great. World-class questions. I thought the coming younger generation. them; I just don't want to. I mean, if of them myself. I think of questions It seems desirable that we explain this were a final exam and my entire like that every so often, even without ourselves to each other in clearer lanfuture depended on it, I'd answer those being asked. So do you. guage, also that we regain our lost abiliquestions; one of them or all of them; But in the first place, I'm a modest ty to do many of our daily-living activwhatever they told me to. And I'd snow guy (you probably don't believe that, ities. Bold initiators in the Harvard them so good, I'd get at least a B. but I am), and although I know I know Community and elsewhere could weave would if I weren't so distracted with that damnedâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;But why burden you? Let's stick to the Cohan Proposition: Does it wash? William Alfred told me over the phone that Graham Greene used as an epigraph, in a hook I am going to read soon, this definitive non-answer from George Santayana, in a book of his, I suppose: "Everything in nature is lyric

in its ideal essence, tragic in its fate, and comic in its existence."

Christopher Durang

Andrew F. Faden

Frank Nahigian


I l,\KV\l<[> M.-ViAZIM-.

I like my tailoring traditional, but not my money management



:lÂŁ 1li*Âť <


At Bank of Boston nothing is traditional but success. For over 200 years, we've provided generations of customers with investment and asset management as creative and diligent as it is solid. And we can do it for you. At Bank of Boston, your personal account manager can put together a performance-oriented asset management program to your short- and long-term financial objectives. We call on all the resources of our experienced professionals in money Rjt our strength to work foryou management, tax planning and estate settlement. We can tailor our services to meet your goals. To learn more about us, please call or stop by any of our offices in Massachusetts, Hilton Head, Palm Beach or Sarasota. For further details, call Chris Flanagan in Boston at (617) 434-2948 or Ed Rowell in Burlington at (617) 270-3010. BANK OF BOSTON

O P E N K Q U E S T I O N continued

ALUMNI * FLIGHTS % ABROAD Exceptional Experiences for Selective Travelers. Egypt Greece Asia Minor the Aegean Carthage Central Asia the Khyber Pass India Nepal the Himalayas Japan Southeast Asia Java Borneo Ceylon Sumatra South America the Galapagos the Amazon Ancient Civilizations the Andes Australia New Zealand New Guinea Kenya Tanzania the Seychelles Northern Italy Burgundy Southwest France Alsace-Lorraine the Rhine the Moselle Flanders Scotland Wales










Until our relationship is no longer viable. 8) The cosmos. Back again. There is no time.

Andrew Franklin Faden '05 spent a lifetime in die lumber business. At 103, lie is Har- 9) The devil. vard University's oldest living graduate. Hell. Less than one minute.

Michael L. Hilton Three questions for the price of one, with extra answers for ordering now.

Not being a very original thinker, I am going to borrow my questions from a popular movie I recently saw. This movie ended with the hero, having done heroic work in the world, asking himself about the meaning of it all. He asked himself the three questions below. He said they were the universal questions, the greatest ones of all, but he said he couldn't answer them. I was disappointed in that (I paid $4.50 to sec the movie), so I've provided a few possible answers. No doubt you can think of others, but if you find some better than the last set, let me know. Where do we come from? Where are we going to? How long do we have?


1) Apes. More nearly perfect forms. Until somebody pushes the button.


2) A big bang. The stars. Until the stars burn out.

^,; Alumni Flights Abroad "''» Department H-28 A.F.A. Plaza 425 Cherry Street Bedford Hills, New York 10507 TOLL FREE 1-800-AFA-8700 N.Y. State (914) 241-0111 HARVARD MAGAZINE

To a party.

10) God. Heaven. Forever. Michael Hilton '68 is a writer by trade. His grand consuming hoblry is hot-top roofing. He lives in Decatur, Texas.


Highly acclaimed itineraries, especially designed for alumni of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and o t h e r d i s t i n g u i s h e d universities. For further information, please contact:


these two considerations into the fabric of the business, educational, and political processes they supervise, disregarding the criticisms of the complacent, the timid, and the "status quo seekers."

3) Our parents. Beverly Hills. Depends on how we eat and exercise. 4) Chance. Nothingness. As long as we can get. 5) The stork. Never-never land. Until bedtime. 6) Accident. Death. 72 years. 7) Microorganisms.

E. J. Kahn Will Harvard survive?

Frivolous as the above question may sound, when I asked it of myself, in a book about Harvard, toward the end of the tumultuous year of 1969, it seemed to have (a word then much in vogue) relevance. I hedged my answer. I said "I happened to believe" that Harvard would not collapse, thus at least implicitly suggesting that there was a contrary view to be entertained. Well, nearly seventeen years have gone by, and Harvard is still around (so, occasionally to my surprise, am I), and like my surviving classmates I can now look back on more than half a century's association, through thick and thin (who can forget the horror of that New Haven football afternoon that ended Yale 54, Harvard 0?), with the old entrenched institution. The big question I ask myself now is: Why were any of us ever so foolish and short-sighted as to take seriously the notion that a fad—the nihilism fashionable on campuses everywhere in 1969—could bring down a fortress? Maybe it takes a long time, much longer than any four undergraduate years, to learn a lesson that's never explicitly taught at univetsities but is quintessentially fundamental to Harvard's brand of liberal education: Don't jump to conclusions. E. J. Kahn Jr. '37, a staff writer at the


Some lands are best adapted

to agriculture,

and others to


but above all the land's uses must be adapted to its natural resources. ' > —MOSES GREENLEAF, 1815




Maine's first ma] t maker,

Moses Cireenleaf surveyed the state in the early 1800's. He wat a m a n of i n d o m i i able enei^gy and unswerving purpose w h o believed t lat develo p m e n i must live i n h a r m o n y w i t h nature. And so it is w i t h (jreenleaf at Keith; Cove, a u n i q u e development that hlends its surrouririings o n the sho res of Sebago Lake w i t h exquisite homes in a private setting.


k*reenlea1 -^



Individual Homes i n a Natural Setting Construction


begins July, 1986


(207) 892-71336

Windham Crossing, Suite 105, North Windham, Maine 040B2

rior^s^ ;^piel^^^^Ui^ersf%..35P


K Q U E S T I O N continued

Years With New Yorker since 1937, is the author of some two dozen books, among them Harvard: Through Change and Through Storm and, most recently, T h e Problem Solvers: A Centennial History of Arthur D. Little Inc.

Robert Coles This full color poster of a hand drawn map in aerial perspective provides a detailed view of the University. Printed on fine paper, 24 X 38 inches, and offered by the Harvard University Graduate School of Design, this map makes a n ideal gift for anyone who knows and cares about Harvard. $20 per map plus $2.50 per shipping address for postage and handling (Massachusetts orders also add 5% sales tax = $1 per map.) foreign postage = $5.25. Mail the coupon below with your check or money order (no cash) to: T H E HARVARD MAP, Harvard University, Graduate School of Design, 48 Quincy St., Gambridgc, MA 02138. (Sample above depicts approximately 4 % of the complete map.)






Numher of Maps to send to this address;

SHOW YOUR CRIMSON Select from these All-American-Made, Officially Licensed, 350th Anniversary Commemoratives.

SELF-OPENING UMBRELLA Oversize. Crimson with gold logos. Wood shaft. Wood Prince-of-wales handle. Brass tip.

BLAZER EMBLEM The 350th logo, finely worked in gold bullion and crimson.

SILK SCARF 10"x54" white pure silk oblong, crimson logo

3 5 0 t h CRIMSON TIE jacquard-woven silk with gold stripes, single logo.


















. Tieis) ® S25 , _ . „ . umDreiiaisi e S25













add applicable sales Tax: s . For snipping S handling add S3 per itenv .

. scarfisi & S2S




Total amount s .

Man cneck ana order to: stratton-Crooke Enterprises, inc PO BOX J15H, Scaredale. NY 1DSB3 91472S-S166


What will the world be like when Harvard turns four hundred? Lord, I hope there will be a world— that an ultimate moment of looniness doesn't wipe out this earth's human beings. My h u n c h is that we'll be around—this creature which is exalted and plagued (and sometimes, humiliated) by consciousness, by the capacity and need to use words, to ask questions, to figure out the nature of things. My hunch is, too, that the United States will still be a major nation, as will the Soviet Union and China, and that Western capitalism and the state socialism of the East will have, by then, moved toward one another in certain ways: more entrepreneurial spirit in Moscow as well as Peking, and more concern for the trials and burdens of the poor, t h e vulnerable, in t h e noncommunist world. I hope and pray that by then we'll have been able to spare the world further famines—and offer to the impoverished millions of the various continents a reasonably decent and healthy life. There is no reason, really, why the wealthier countries of the world can't be mobilized to such an objective, no matter what their ideological differences. Today countless children die who fifty years hence will live, and offer the world their many and various talents, or so one hopes and prays. It would be wonderful if on its four hundredth birthday Harvard would greet all the world's nations as a matter of course—the people of this planet, brothers and sisters at last as it makes its way through the darkness of space. Robert Coles '50 is a child psychiatrist and the author of the recently publislied The Moral Life of Children ant/The Political Life of Children. He teaches at Ha/van/ College and in several of the I'nrve/sity's graduate schools (medical, law, and business). rj

fA A V,



A SUSPENSE TALE WTTHAFINE TOUCH QE CLASS. " 'RETURN' is a gem! T H E O N E for those in search of a good movie. A good story that has been tautly directed and acted." -Virginia Lacier, Middlesex News .-i nappy unc-macic ..urprioe. . . spectacular performances. Cinematographer Janos Zsombolvai is brilliant!" -Norma Mel nin Stoop, Manhattan Arts "One of the most beautifully filmed independent movies I have seen. In John Walcutt and Katherine Crockett, Silvei has found two unusually gifted performers.' -David


I he


Above Right: Filmmaker Andrew Silver (DBA 1975 HBS) confers with Karlcnc Crockett and John Walcutt about a scene in "RETURN." Silver holds two business degrees from M.I.T and a doctorate from Harvard Business School. He has taught theatre at Brandeis University and has produced numerous award-winning short subjects and PBS programs.

"If you're intrigued by the paranormal, t reincarnation, and psychic phenomena, ' RETURN should fascinate you. . . approaches the subject with delicacy and deliberation. It's steamy, intriguing, and provocative." • -Susan Granger, wMCA, New rod' • • "Nnrahle for jrs lack of sexual and 1 violent exploitation. Karlene Crockett | is as talented as she is beautiful." -Michael Blowen, The Boston Globe

"I wanted to make a film based on love instead of fear. I wanted special emotions instead of special effects. -Andrew Silver



S E N D C H E C K TO: A N D R E W SILVER, P.O. BOX 1414, BOSTON, MA 02117 Please send me a video cassette of "RETURN" @ S37.95 ($34.95 plus $3.00 shipping and handling). Mass. residents add 5% sales rax. (VHS only) Name Address





, Telephone 1 • •

( P l e a s e aMow 4 t o 6 w c c k s for d d i v e r y )

T. K d l i M [ c d usi J V C BR-7000-UR Industrial ' M a c h i n e s . Infinite W i n d o w S y n c h r o n i z e d T i m e B a s e C o r r e c t i o n . Audio, Video, and Pulse Distribution . IT n V>. - . r ^ l „ . \ \ ;,„,; ,..;,!, i n n n , Amplifiers C r o s s Point Color M o n i t o r i n g with 1 0 0 % A u t o m a t e d Q C S c a n n i n g . AGI-A P r o f e s s i o n a l B r o a d c a s t Tape used. [ V H S only / C O L O R / 78 minutcsl

The Browser The University at 350: Afield day for writers and artists.

Various and Vital Harvard Richard Marias Early one morning a few summers ago, I was pushing my bike across the Yard when I was hailed by two brightly dressed and evidently perplexed tourists in front of Emerson Hall. "Is this what there is to see at Harvard?" one of them asked. They were obviously disappointed. I suggested some of my favorite places: the cool, dark gallery in Memorial Hall, where marble plaques commemorate those sons of Harvard who died to preserve the Union; the Fogg Museum; Widener Library, where models of Harvard in its various ages

arc set behind glass; the Faculty Room in Bulfinch's University Hall, with its stern ranks of portraits. I even mentioned the glass flowers. None of my suggestions took, and the couple went off looking as if they had found the posters more promising than the place. Well, what is there to see at Harvard? It's hard to see a university, especially one with 350 years of history. Harvard is a little like Daniel Boone's axe shown somewhere in the Southâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the very axe, so the museum keeper says, used by Daniel Boone himself. On investigation it turns out that the head of the axe has been replaced nine times and the handle 24. But it is the same axe. In the year of the 350th, many different writers have tried to see Harvard. The gem, the history to read if you're reading only one, is the little book modestly titled Glimpses of the Harvard Past (Harvard University Press, $15), comprising essays by Bernard Bailyn, Ph.D. '53, Adams University Professor; Don-

ald Fleming, Ph.D. '47, Trumbull professor of American history; Oscar Handlin, Ph.D. '40, Loeb University Professor; and Stephan Thernstrom, Ph.D. '62, Winthrop professor of history. Bailyn's short introductory piece, called "Foundations," holds, contrary to Samuel Eliot Morison, that Harvard was founded primarily as a Puritan divinity school and not as a liberal arts college. That divine purpose had decayed by the early nineteenth century, but the curriculum remained as rigid and old fashioned as a rusts' suit of armor. Students rioted in 1823, the state legislature refused to continue publicfunding, and the College nearly fell apart. Bailyn describes the failure of John Thornton Kirkland, president from 1810 to 1828, to shape a Harvard that could unite students, faculty, and the larger society. But why should a nineteenth-century college have continued once its religious motivation had turned bland? In a practical America that prized

Henry Simon Glazier, A.M. 1889 (left), and friends, mnlemplaiinÂŤ mortality. From Glimpses of the Harvard Past. 174


Member SI PC

"I THOUGHT I WAS TOO SMALL FOR DREXEL BURNHAM'.' ments.The quality of You might think the investment advice you'd have difficulty sett i ng a big player 1 i ke doesn't change a bit. Drexel Burnham to Our institutional and handle your investment individual clients both portfolio. have access to first-rate research.They both share But it isn't so. in t he same wealth of fiThe way we see it, the only difference be- nancial knowledge. tween our large clients Just as our institutionand our small ones is al clients count on us to the size of their invest- pass along new informaIQGQ I in.\..| Hn nihil it* l.-iriilit-ri hu-nrpDraled

tion relevant to their investments, our individu al clients expect no less for their portfolios. The fact is, Drexel Burnham is big enough to offer a complete range of financial services to all kinds or investors,yet small enough to give iÂťi sonal attention to everybody. That's important.

amateur can admire, Because if there's one call 1-800-237-8000, thing you need when you've got questions about ext. 41, and ask for ou r you r i n vest merits, it's some - Current Purchase test. one t here wit h t he answers. In i his business, it If you're lookingforthe doesn't matter how big you are. It's how big kind of professional peryou want to be. formance that a serious

Drexel Burnham Dix*xH B u r n h a m Lambert Incoqioratod

Cambridge's newest landmark ready to serve the Harvard Community there's a Marriott in Cambridge Brand new, 25 stories high, 431 deluxe rooms, 12 elegant suites, a Concierge level, of course â&#x20AC;&#x201D;it's the new Marriott, and we are right in Cambridge, ready to serve the Harvard community. The new Cambridge Marriott is ideally located, just over the bridge from Boston, overlooking the Charles, only a short distance from the "Square." Definitely convenient to all. This beautiful new hotel features all the quality services and amenities you expect from Marriott. We look forward to serving the University and its alumni.

Marriott People know how.




AM MRB RR TI Dn G ^ rCA r :ER ,

Two Cambridge Center, Cambridge, Massachusetts 02142, (617)494-6600

The Browser willing hands over bookish heads, Harvard had a hard time defining itself. In "Making Men of the Boys," Handlin says that most parents sent their sons to Harvard "for custodial reasons. . . . For those who did not work with their hands, Harvard offered an alternative: subjection to a rigid and exhausting schedule that preempted the entire day and kept the boys out of trouble." Handlin suggests that the philosophy of the educators was much like that of prison reformers of the same period, with some of the same consequences: now and then the inmates revolted. He records the misery of President Edward Everett: "The hateful duty of questioning three students about their beckoning to loose women elicited a cry of agony: 'Is this all I am fit for? . . . T h e life I am now leading must end, or it will end m e . ' " Everett lasted three years. Modern Harvard began with the presidency of Charles William Eliot. Between Kirkland's resignation in 1828 and Eliot's ascension in 1869, presidents held office for an average of four years. Eliot ruled for four decades, giving Harvard a new curriculum, a distinguished faculty', and a new sense of purpose. His steady vision was of a Harvard dedicated to what Fleming calls "an elite of intellect and character, recruited from all levels of society but smoothed and

Even under Eliot, Harvard had its faculty frauds. The one who pops up repeatedly

is "Copey." polished by the distinctively Harvard infusion of young aristocrats, representatives of the family stocks that had been recurring at Harvard for a century or more." As Stephan T h e r n s t r o m shows, Eliot's administration increased financial aid to worthy students so that by the turn of the century Harvard was far more democratic than either Yale or Princeton, though the overwhelming majority of its students were still the sons of business and professional men. Eliot's efforts were not an unmitigat-

College House, taken from the corner of Dtttater St/ret fa ll.'/i. Swift. From Glimpses of the Harvard Past. ed success. One of the most winning chapters in this book is Fleming's "Harvard's Golden Age?" detailing everything in Eliot's time from student bathing habits to the development of a classification system for books in Gore Hall, the library Widener replaced. Even under Eliot, Harvard had its faculty frauds. T h e one who pops up rep e a t e d l y is " C o p e y " â&#x20AC;&#x201D; C h a r l e s Townsend Copclandâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;who succumbed entirely to the seductive temptation of teachers to be characters rather than to build them. Still, Eliot's accomplishment was monumental, and Harvard was never the same after he beat it with his wand. Handlin notes that the Harvard of those days was "a small community," and throughout this book there is a nostalgia for the intimate college that will never be Harvard again. The illustrations are wonderful, and Fleming's list of "some notable Harvard students" is a great field for browsing. Richard Norton Smith 7 5 has tried his hand at Harvard history in The Harvard Centuiy: The Making of a I riiversity to a Nation (Simon & Schuster, $19.95). Entertaining and anecdotal, it is a gossip-filled chronicle of Harvard's presidents from Eliot to Bok. Smith gives us President Eliot's passions for recruiting faculty and for writing inscriptions for monuments. He tells the story of President Abbott Lawrence Lowells discovery that an elderly professor was a

homosexual. Lowell demanded his resignation. T h e professor asked what he might be expected to do now, having devoted his life to Harvard. "I would get a gun and destroy myself," Lowell said. We learn that Professor Kenneth Murdock was the favored candidate for the presidency after Lowell, but he was photographed on shipboard crossing the Atlantic with a woman not his wife. James B. Conant became president instead. Smith heaps scorn on Nathan Pusey, calling him "the bishop from Appleton," mocking him for his piety, pushing off to a few paragraphs Puscy's devotion to making a dignified place for women at Harvard and for inaugurating one of the greatest building programs in I larvard's history while raising faculty salaries. Smith finds it highly significant that at his inauguration Derek Bok "forgot to take his place in the seventeenth-century President's Chair." Some of the ugliness of Harvard's past shows up: President Lowell's hideous prejudices against Jews and just about everybody else whom he regarded as foreign; Samuel Eliot Morison's refusal to teach women in the same classes with men in 1945; and the generally painful progress of Radcliffe women toward equality. But even here, Glimpses of the Harvard Past does a better job of looking at the warts and stains. Smith's is finally a profoundly shallow SwTKMBKK-OtTfOHER 19Wf>


Helping Harare produce outstanding executive material. The Harvard Business School Publishing Division puts the freshest ideas of today's leading business analysts and strategists to work for you.

iMM HARVARD BUSINESS SCHOOL PUBLISHING DIVISION Boston, Mass. 02163 Harvard Business School Press

Harvard Business School Cases

Harvard Business Review Reprints

The Browser book, bound to strike the editors of the Harvard Crimson as dazzling analysis and the rest of us as a diversion best read at the beach with a drink at hand and a nap in prospect. Very much akin to it in spirit is Great Good Fortune: How Harvard Makes Its Money (Houghton Mifflin, $18.95), by Carl A. Vigeland '69. Vigeland's real interest lies in the men and women who manage Harvard's money, especially those responsible for the Harvard Campaign, which has raised more than $350 million. He has interviewed dozens of people and attended many functions put on by Harvard for donors, both alumni and others. Vigeland considers that Harvard's fundraisingand the management of its endowment have been enormously successful, and he gives a lively account of how that success has been achieved. On the other hand, he tells a lengthy and somewhat bewildering story of the migraine headaches associated with the financial losses of the Medical Area Total Energy Plant (MATEP). Vigeland disapproves of Harvard's methods even though they work. Harvard's development office keeps careful records on alumni and other potential donors, filing newspaper clippings about them, noting their interests, and estimating their net worth. "One Harvard alumnus," Vigeland tells us,

"harshly referred to the practice as la criminal invasion of privacy.' " He tells us in one paragraph that plans to approach donors, as designed by the development office, "look silly in the aggregate, as though fund-raising were an elaborate handicapping scheme." Then, in the very next paragraph, where he writes that "the practice is contrary to the values on which Harvard's community of scholars is based," he concludes by saying that "in the development office . . . requests to observe donor research files are flatly turned down." Someone probably told Vigeland something about these files, but from the assurance with which he judges them without having seen them, we might presume that he had received his information through some vivid psychic revelation. His distaste for Harvard's carefully organized financial management is reminiscent of Hotspur's shaved gentleman, "fresh as a bridegroom," of whom it was said that "but for these vile guns, he would himself have been a soldier." But distaste or not, Vigeland details in loving fascination his brushes with men like George Putnam, former Harvard treasurer, who apparently suffered Vigeland as an overnight guest. "Before dinner, both Putnams had bourbon, George mixing his. Dinner was filet of sole, the wine a Soave white. No coffee

A student at ease, 1889. From Glimpses of the Harvard Past.

for George with dessert, which was apple cobbler with Brigham's vanilla ice cream." And, "The following morning, breakfasting on orange juice, an English muffin with apricot marmalade, and a glass of low-fat milk, Putnam told his wife he'd be staying at the Union

Vigeland sounds a little like those old-timers who think baseball lost its soul when fielders started wearing gloves. League while he was in New York City overnight." Vigeland seems throughout to confuse nostalgia with high moral principle. He sounds a little like those old-timers who think baseball lost its soul when fielders started wearing gloves and fans started sitting in stadiums rather than buggies parked behind home plate. Perhaps Harvard would be more pure if its financial affairs were managed by wizened old men with green eyeshades and sleeve garters, hunched over ledgers with quill pens held in ink-stained fingers. But think how boring their meals would be! Surprisingly absorbing is Max Hall's Harvard University Press: A History (Harvard University Press, $20). At times, by Hall's account, the Press has looked like an open spigot, pouring Harvard's money into an ocean of red ink. President Lowell only reluctantly permitted the establishment of the Press in 1913. President Conant wanted to shut it off. Some of the Press's marketing tactics, including a reluctance to issue paperbacks, have at times made it look almost suicidal. What has finally given the Press its distinction and kept it going has been a resolve to publish solid books appealing to a general audience of the educated. I have often called a certain kind of foreign movie "nothing happening with subtitles." One kind of university press book might be called "nothing happening with footnotes and bibliography." Dumas Malone, the Press's third director, moved away from this kind of book toward works with broader appeal. He failed as an administrator, but his philosSEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


We Make Money For People Who Make Money. We're Bankers Trust's Private Clients Group. All the resources for customized money management assembled in one place. Professionals in portfolio management, sophisticated lending, forward planning and forty other financial services, at your command to go to work to get your money to work. Let us show you how we put it all together and how- you can benefit from our unique capabilities. For information and our "Guide to Services," write or call lanelle Rossignol, Vice President, Private Clients Group, 280 Park Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10017. Tel. 212/850-2060.

Bankers Trust Company Private Clients Group © 1986 Bankers Ttusl Company Member FOIC

,,, W e

,, . ,. _ _ . .... . . . . . Make Money ror People Who Make Money

THE HARVARD GAME 350 Years of Trivia — A competitive journey through Harvard's history via a gameboard map of the campus. Advance by answering questions about buildings, t r a d i t i o n s , sports and famous personages which make up America's oldest and most famous university

-A sample of the 2 0 0 0 questions: 1.) 3 of the 4 Harvard players on the 1960 Olympic Hockey team had the same first name. What was it? 2.) What does the John Harvard statue have — bowtie, moustache or ring?

Kirldand Entetprises, Inc: Grant Blair '86, Maryann Harring '87 Butch Cutonc ' 8 7 , Gail Reynolds '87






Please send me eopies at $34.95 eaeh (plus $3.50 fur postage and handling) Enclosed is my check/m.O. or hill my MC/V1SA n Name Address City State, Zip Kirkland Enterprises, Inc. P.O. Box 339 Harvard Square, Cambridge, Ma 02238 Allow 4-6 weeks for delivery Anwvi-rv i.i Bob ( C t n f y * O w n , . MtfVcjr) 2.1 Moincjuh,

The Browser ophy has prevailed, and the Ptess has endured. Halls character sketches are understated, critical, captivating, and wry. A former journalist and a former editor at the Press, he has worked with many of the people of whom he writes. But he is

Hidden in this quietly dramatic book is an account not only of a press but of one kind of learning that a great university should foster. at his superb best when he recounts the saga of various books: Amy Kelly's Eleanor of Aqtiitaine and the Four Kings, John King Fairbanks The United States and China, Arthur O. Lovejoy s Great Chain of Being, Susanne K. Langer's Philosophy in a New Key, and many others. Hidden in this quietly dramatic chronicle is an account not only of a press but of one kind of learning that a great university should foster—authoritative, humane, imaginative, and "popular" in the best sense of that often abused and sometimes pejorative word. Derek Bok, J.D. '54, Harvard's incumbent president, has contributed Higher Learning (Harvard University Press, $15), part analysis, part prescription, and part memoir in five brief chapters. He believes that in its colleges and universities the United States has created "a set of educational institutions unsurpassed anywhere in the world." But stubborn problems remain: how do we combine teaching with research, and how do we discover what ought to be taught? Embracing these questions is yet another: how do we evaluate what higher education does? In his chapter on undergraduate education, Bok hits upon one of the strangest anomalies of t h e modern university—the reluctance of faculty membets to discuss theit teaching with one another. His most radical suggestion may be that some faculty meetings be given ovet to such discussions in place of less important issues. At Harvard such a development might be greeted with the astonishment that enveloped the Twelve Apostles speaking

You Can't Top Harvard's Class! in tongues on the Day of Pentecost. But it might also create a real revolution. Bok reflects on the role of the university in making students think and in making teachers respond to what students are thinking in both the College and the professional schools. Throughout the book runs the theme of balance between the interests of faculties and the needs of students and society. A strong ethical concern pervades his discussion, and he notes somewhat grimlv that "faculties . . . have difficulty finding qualified professors to teach professional ethics." A certain resigned doggedness rules these pages. Bok believes that universities need reform; that professors are conservative, often caught up in the competition for recognition among their peers; that university presidents must lead reform if it is to come, but that the demands on their time and the expectations of their various constituencies are so varied that reform—and education itself—can easily be lost in the whirl. There is no grand solution—only the modest but ultimately effective one of persisting day by day. Richard Norton Smith speculates that Bok, known for keeping his own counsel, plans to step aside after the 350th celebration. I think that this book means, on the contrary, that Bok has his shoulders bent for the long, hard push. Bok's pleas for reform in the professional schools might gain support if everyone would read The Big Time (Harper & Row, $17.95), by Laurence Shames, the story of the Harvard Business School Class of 1949. Its the class that Fortune highlighted in a 1974 article as "the class the dollars fell on." Shames lays on the cudgel rather than the accolade, for these were the men (no women belonged) so enthralled by the managerial techniques learned in the BSchool that they neglected the quality that once made American products the best in the world. Conrad Jones, a member of the class who hecamc a consultant, describes a meeting about a quality control problem in a professionally managed companv. "Their approach to the problem was to analyze everything. How many doors, say, were falling off? What percentage of doors were falling off? How much would it cost to stick 'em back on? What were the chances of getting sued? How much advertising would it take to coun-

A. Crew Neck Sweat Shirt available in crimson, gray or white. 50% cotton, 50% acrylic fleece. S-M-L-XL $16.00 B. Hooded Sweat Shirl available iti crimson, gray or white. 50% cotton, 50% acrylic fleece. S-M-L-XL $21.00 C. Reverse Weave Crew Neck Heavy Weight Sweat ShirlSANDKNIT 88% cotton. 12% acrylic. Available in grev. S-XL. S27.00 D. Short Sleeve Polo Style Jersey. 50% cotton. 50% polyester. While with Crimson embroidered crest. S-M-L-XL S24.00 E. While T-Shiri with crimson trim on neck and sleeves with Harvard seal. 50% cotton. 50%, polyester. S-M-L-XL (Adult) $8.00 XS (2-4),S (6-8). M (10-12). L (1416) (Children) $7.00 F. Crimson T-Shirt with Harvard seal. 100% cotton. S-M-L-XL (Adult) $9.00XS(2-4).S(6-8),M (10-12). L (14-16) (Children) $8.00


G. Joe Cool" T-Shirl. White with crimson trim. 50% polyester, 50% cotton. S-XL (Adult) $9.00


XS-S-M-L (Children)

$8.00 Prices subject to change without notice. Please add $2.50 for postage and handling. Far phone orders, call loll-free l-800-:i4:s-5297. In Mass.. call: l-6l"-91i-4:l59

J. August©.

at Harvard Square 1320 Mass. Ave.. Cambridge. MA 021.18







Sub Total

Postage &i Handling TOTAL



Address City/State/Zip • Check D MasterCard DVisa Credit Card No. Expires . Signature

• American Express



The Browser Illustrations from:

The Hasty Pudding Theatre A History of Harvard's Hairy-Chested Heroines. Alanson Sturgis '14 as Amorita Carramba in The Legend of Loravia, 1914.

uLL George Santayana '86 as Lady b.lfrida in Robin Hood, 1885.

Kickline from Hamlet, 1893. The oldest extant photograph of a Pudding hid-line.

Left: It's Only Natural, 1922. Drawing by Fred Gwynne '51 for back cover of program for Heart of Gold, 1950.

Copies of The Hasty Pudding Theatre, lavishly illustrated in color and black-and-white, may be obtained by application to the author, Anthony Calnek '85, in care of Hasty Pudding Theatricals, 12 Holyoke Street, Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138.



teract the bad publicity? Not once did they actually talk about the doors, the hinges, or why the hell they were falling off. They weren't interested in solving the problem; they just wanted to manage the mess." It did not occur to these professional manipulators that Americans might turn to buying Japanese carsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and TV sets and cameras and stereos and microwaves and even computers and just about everything else rated in Consumer Reportsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;because Japanese goods don't break down or burn up when you turn them on. Many Americans nowadays are angry at Japan for its protectionism against American products. But after reading Shames's funny and sad book, one wonders if much of this anger ought perhaps to be redirected across the Charles River. A more hopeful book is Where They Are Now: The Story of the Women of Harvard Law, /P7</(Doubleday, $17.95), by Jill Abramson '76 and Barbara Franklin. Their book is a collection of case studies, confusedly arranged but adding up to a positive conclusion: the women who gtaduated from the Law School in 1974 did all right. This is not to say that they all became rich and famous. Susan Roosevelt Weld quit practice because it stopped being fun and went back to work on a Ph.D. and to giving more time to her children. For much the same reason, Renee Chotiner also stays home and takes care of her kids and has little interest in the law. And Judy Berkan teaches at the Inter American University in San Juan, Puerto Rico, runs marathons, lives in a termite-infested house, and makes $24,000 a year. It is easy to see why these women and others have jumped off the track carrying their former classmates into partnerships and six-figure incomes. A "typical" day for Alice Young, who has made it to the top, begins at 7:30 with a breakfast meeting and runs straight through until 10:30 at night when she concludes dinner with a client from Hong Kong. T h e big-time lawyer works on a schedule resembling that of an elev e n t h - c e n t u r y C l u n i a c m o n k , for whom, presumably, the liturgy of labor itself was heaven. This modern asceticism is not for everyone. T h e positive part of all this is that women lawyers have increasingly open

to them the same choices that male practitioners in the law have long had. Some antediluvian relics remain. It irked Alice Young in her early career "that lawyers often applied a double standard. If a male lawyer was tall and good-looking the assumption was that he was socially graceful and knew what he was talking about. With a woman the assumption was that she wasn't a serious lawyer." Women lawyers face either disapproval when they become pregnant or the fear they may lose out in the intense competition for partnerships. "Managing Motherhood" is an important chapter in this book, but the good news, I suppose, is that it is no more daunting than the chapter entitled "Burning Out and Dropping Out." The bad news is that if there were a literary Olympic event for cliches, this volume would win a gold medal. And the authors' allusion to a woman "defending the accused perpetrators of grizzly crimes" leaves me wondering just what the perpetrators were accused of doing to the bears. Some short notes: Everyone who loves Harvard should have Harvard: An Architectural History (Harvard University Press, $30), by the late Bainbridge Bunting, Ph.D. '52, and Margaret Henderson Floyd, 1ST '69'71—a stunningly beautiful book, the one to have close at hand when reading anything else about Harvard's past. The drawings and the photographs are endlessly interesting. The text contains a treasury of knowledge about Harvard's history, including such tidbits as the information that the present Faculty Club was built on the site of the home of Henry James Sr. That the Carpenter Center for the Visual Arts is "the only building in the United States designed by Le Corbusier" should make all Americans grateful. Howard: A Living Portrait (Foremost Publishers, $35), with technically brilliant photographs by Steve Dunwell, should sell hundreds of copies. A graceful introduction beginning with a witty poem has been contributed bv David McCord '21, A.M. '22, L.H.D. (hon.) '56. But, alas, the general conception of the book is about what one would expect if Walt Disney Enterprises were to construct a Harvardland in Disnev World. Much more moving is The Illustrated Harvard: Harvard University in Wood

Engravings and Words (Globe Pequot Press, $19.95), by Michael McCurdy, with a foreword by Justin Kaplan '45. Striking and imaginative, it makes us see the familiar with a fresh and memorable vision. Harvard lives here in light, line, and mysterious shadow. David Aloian '49 has collected some delightful reminiscences by Harvard alumni in College in a Yard II (H.A.A./

Harvard University Press, $14.50). The memories of John K. Fairbank, Barbara W. Tuchman, Heather Dubrovv, and Aloian himself arc poignantly funny. It is hard to know what to do with The Harvard Guide to Influential Books (Harper & Row, $18.95, $6.95), in which "113 distinguished Harvard professors discuss the books that have helped to shape their thinking." One turns

Shaping the minds thai shape the world. Richard Norton Smith's fascinating portrait of the five Harvard presidents—Eliot, Lowell, Conant, Pusey, and Bok— who transformed a bastion of Eastern privilege into a diverse international community, presents a vivid study of Harvard's unique status in American life. Spanning a hundred turbulent years, this perceptive survey explores the issues and ideals, the power struggles, the policy decisions, and the controversial personalities responsible for Harvard's enormously influential role in shaping American leadership and world events. Required reading for all graduates.

m CENTURY "A fitting update to Samuel Eliot Morison's Three Centuries of Harvard, published 50 years ago, and worthy on its own proliferating merits." —Kirkus Reviews



The Browser

"Sundry guiftes, legacies, landes and Revennewes" These words come from the charter of the oldest corporation in America. And in the almost three and a half centuries since they were written, Harvard has become not only our oldest but also one of our la rgest corporations, with an endowment approaching $3 billion, with monthly cash flow of $1 billion, with stock holdings and financial clout to rival the most powerful institutional investors. The College in The Yard has gone multinational. GREAT GOOD FORTUNE

goes behind her venerable ivied walls to reveal an organization at the cutting edge of finance, run by an improbable, little-known but highly effective combination of old-school Brahmins and whiz-kid money managers. It takes a hard look at the moral and political dilemmas facing administrators who must decide whether to pay for academic freedom with the proceeds of apartheid. It examines the methods and mechanisms of Harvard's fund-raising— and many graduates will be astonished to discover just how much Harvard knows about them before the first appeal is sent, the first phone call made. GREAT GOOD FORTUNE

maps a unique financial empire, an enormous, complex, sometimes contradictory institution whose tremendous resources impose equally tremendous responsibilities. It tells a story that is enlightening, sometimes disturbing, always fascinating. Lee Iacocca, meet John Harvard. He can teach you a thing or two.


CARLA.VIGELAND -*>£" Houghton Mifflin Company -I 2 Park Street, Boston, Massachusetts 02108 © Houghton Mifflin Company 1986 184


through it in the addictive fascination with which one reads almanacs or eats potato chips. I was happy to sec that Robert Nozick, professor of philosophy, bravely listed not only John Stuart Mill's On Liberty and Plato's The Republic but also the classic comics he read as a child. The profusion of listings indicates that President Eliot's dreams of variety at Harvard have indeed come true. Q

of a multimillion-dollar land swindle on the fragile islands off the Mississippi coast. Constance Seheerer, Ci '41-'42, Writing in Winter. BkMk Press, $5.25. Observant, spiritually rich book of poems—a first collection. Arthur R.G. Solmssen '49, Takeover Time. Little, Brown. $17.95. Senior lawyer Graham Anders gets involved with a radiant blonde and caught in a thicket of intrigue and suspense. Skip Wilson (Ruth Ann Wilson) '42. lid '60'61, This Is Jest for You, Ashley, $9.95. Quickwitted verse on life's quirks and constants.

Richard'Marias has directed Harvard's Ex- LITERARY CRITICISM pository Writing Program since 1978.

Books and Authors Recent publications M' and about Harvard alumni and faculty members.

FICTION AND POETRY Warren Bargad '61. and Stanley F. Chyet, editors and translators. Israeli Poetry: A Contemporary Anthology, Indiana. $29.95. Poems evoking national issues and personal experiences, heroism and loss, and the preeariousness of life during forty years of struggling statehood. Sophie Belfort (Kathcrinc H. Auspitz) '63, Ph.D. '71. ///,• I Mr Curtain Murders IA Romanre/, Athcncum. $14.95. The worlds of academe and local politics collide in a stylish thriller starring professor Molly Rafferty and police detective Nick I lannibal. Peter Benchley '61, "Q" Clearance. Random House, $16.95. High comedy about a presidential speech writer thrust into prominence as a trusted adviser and espionage victim. Clarenee Brown, Ph.D. '62. editor and translator, i'iie Xuise of lime: The Prose of Osip Mandelsla/n. North Point. $12.50. A reminiscence, short story, memoir, travel journal, and ourraged protest by the preeminent Russian poet testify to the triumph of art over the forces of oppression. Maureen Howard, 1ST '67-'6b\ Expensive Hubits. Summit, $17.95. On the eve of a by-pass opctation, best-selling novelist Margaret Flood decides to write the :nith about her life. Pcrri Klass '78. M.D. '86, / Am Hating An Adventure, Putnam's. $17.95. Twenty short stories on modern living include two O. Henry .-Ward winners. Kathryn Lasky Knight, l)v '67-'68. Trace Elrments, Norton. $15.95, Hie mysterious murder of a young Harvard scientist is solved by his charming widow. John D. MaeDonald, M B A . '39, Barrier Island. Knopf, $16.95. Densely populated story

John Hannay '71. The htertextuality of hale: A Study of Margate! Drabble, Missouri, $7.95. The tragic romance, the return to origin, and the providential model in Drabblc's fiction arc seen here as evocations of the idea of "fate." Paul J. Korshin, Ph.D. '66, editor. Johnson After law Hundred Years, Pennsylvania. $35. Rcevaluation of Samuel Johnson's life and intellectual development within the context of his time. John I.. Mahoney, Ph.D. 57, The Whole Internal I 'niverse: Imitation and the NtW Defense of Poetry in British Criticism, 1660-ltiJO, Fordham, $25 (paper, $10). Essays on important episodes in the evolution of the term "imitation," from its classical origins to its full flowering with the English Romantics.

ARTS AND LETTERS Michael Dennis, professor of architecture. Court and Gan/en: From the French Hotel to the Cm of Modern Architecture. M.I.T., $40. The social, psychological, and formal transformations that led architects to trade the city of public space for a city of private "icons." Robert Finch '65. Out/amis: Journeys to the Outer Edges of Cape Cod. (iodine, $15.95. New cssavs from the naturalist-writer speculate generously on man's place in the natural world. Donald Hall '51, Gj '54-'57. Fathers I'taw^ Catch With Sons: Essays on Sport (Mostly Baseball). North Point. $13.5(1. Observation, reportage, and reminiscence from a sports-loving poet. Inez Hedges '68, languages of Revolt: Dada and Surrealist Literature and Film. Duke, $25. A compelling topic interpreted through the focal principles of alchemy, frame making, and metaphor. John Hcjduk. M A R . '53, Mash of Medusa. Ri/y.oli, $35. Cooper Union's dean of architecture offers a guide to his designs and projects and comments on architecture's relationship to social and political currents. Michael Kiernuii, Ph.D. '71. editor TheEssayes or Counsels, Chill and Moral! Harvard. $30. First critical edition in a century of these essays by Sir Francis Bacon employs modern editorial standards to establish an authentic text. Christopher Maurer, associate professor of Romance languages and literatures, translator, hi the Green Morning: Memories of Federico. by Francisco Garcia Lorca, New Directions, $23.50 (paper, $12.95). Vivid memoir of the Lorca

family and their milieu combined with the author's Columbia I'nivcrsity lectures on his brother's works, given in the Forties and fifties. J o h n lit/.luiiih Millar '(>(>, Elizabethan Country Dams, Thirteen Colonies Press. $19.95 (paper. $12.95). Music and direction for H6 dances of the period. Vera Moreen, P h . D . ' 78, Aliniatnre Paintings in Judaeo-Peisian Manuscripts. Hebrew I ' n i o n , $35. Analytic descriptions of 17K miniatures from twelve seventeenth- to nineteenth-century texts.

SOCIOLOGY AND ANTHROPOLOGY Alan B o o k b i n d e r , A.M. 'SO; Olivia L i e h t c n stein, and Richard D e n t o n , Coinrailes: Portraits of Soviet Life. NAL/Plumc, $10.95. In-depth portraits of twelve Soviet citizens and their everyday lives; the official tie-in to a BBC series that b e g m in July on PBS-TV. Evelyn N a k a n o G l e n n . P h . D . '71, Issei. Nisei, War Bride: i'hrcc Generations of Japanesi American Women in Domestic Service, T e m p l e , $29.95. Interviews with women in the San I'rancisco Bay area support this study of the role that race and gender play in capitalist labor systems.

Nikolaus P e v s n e r and Priscilla Metealf, A.M. '47. Tht Cathedrals of England, Viking Penguin (2 vols.), each $40. Pevsner's celebrated descriptions of Knulish ecclesiastical architecture revised, updated, and illustrated.

Eric W . J o h n s o n '40. M A T . 4 1 . Older and Wiser: Wit. Wisdom, and Spirited Aikice finni the Older Generation, Walker, $18.95. C o m m e n t s , reflections, humor, and anecdotes from 136 articulate people (age 65 to 97) woven into an invigorating hook.


G e o r g e K. M a r c u s , P h . D . '7(>. and Michael M J . Fischer. Anthropology as Cultural Critique: An Experimental Moment in the Human Silences.

I i-i manl Maker. Hranrieis ami Frankfurter. A Dual Biography, NYU, $15. Louis Brandcis.

LL.B. 1K77, A.M. (hon.) [891; and Felix

Chicago, $22 (paper, $9.95). An overview that

frankfurter. L L . B . 'Oh. professor of law (19141920), met at Harvard in 1905 and became friends, colleagues, Supreme Court justices, and architects of American life.

takes the pulse of contemporary social science as it adapts its theories and techniques to an increasingly complex world.

Michael F o w l e r , J . D . 'H6, Winston S. Churchill: Philosopher anil Statesman. I'nivcrsity Press of America. $6.95. Churchill's versatility and multifacetcd career has stimulated this inquiry into the nature of leadership.

Charles Rosen, JV.K Review of Hooks


William M c C o r d , P h . D . '55, with A r l i n c McCord, Paths to Progress: Bread and Emdom in Developing Societies. Norton. $17.95. Major advances in Latin America. Asia, and India arccited in this investigation of poverty and despotism in the Third World.

luliSar C. Knowlton J r . '42. A.M. '42, Estebau Eihit. emu. Dorrancc, $15.95. Critique of the Argentine writer (1805-1851) who exiled himself in order to express his patriotism and socialist views.

A . G . Mojtubai, 1ST 7 6 - 7 7 . Messed Assurance: At Home With the Hiinib in Amanita, Texas. Houghton Mifflin. $16.95. One city's adaptation to a nuclear weapons plant exemplifies America's accommodation to the nuclear threat.

Sully Ride, with S u s a n O k i e 7 3 , M . I ) . '78, To Spaa anil /sail: Lothrop, L e e tv Shepard, $14.95. I'or younger readers: the h u m a n side of being a member of an astronaut crew, by the first American woman to enter space.

Alan Pifer '44 and Lydia Bronte, editors. Our Aging Society: Paradox and Promise, Norton, $22.95. Constructive proposals for meeting the personal and public challenges caused by an aj;ing population.

ITieodorc R o s e n g a r t e n , P h . D . '75. i'ombec: Portrait of a Cotton Planter. Morrow, $22.95. Massive testament to a vanished world, made possible by the unique journal (1845-1858) of Thomas 15. Chaplin, a Sea Island (South Carolina) plantation owner and slaveholder.

Roy Wagner ' 6 1 . Asivwtirong: Ethos. Image, and Social /'over Among the I 'sen liarok of Sea Ireland. Princeton, $50. Study of a culture generated through commonly held images and expressed through public actions, verbal metaphors, or spatial constructions.

THE PRODIGY ii r r in sss

"...the greatest musical dictionary ever published."

R o b e r t N . Wilson, P h . D . '52, Experiencing Ciratnity: On t/u Social Psychology of Art. Transaction, $24.95. Connections between literature, society, and personality drawn through a study of modern poets.

The gill of a lifetime for anyone who lores music.

".. .20 vast volumes excellently produced, crammed with scholarship, magnificently illustrated, a profound pleasure to handle." Anthony Burgess. Quesl By ordering directly from the publisher, you can acquire The New Crove at a savings of S200. Or use one of our two convenient installment plans. 1. One volume a month for 20 months. 2. Receive the entire set at once with a down payment and pay the balance over 20 months. Your purchase of The New Crove will bring two additional benefits. You will receive, free of charge, a boxed set of records; and you will be enrolled, at no cost, into the Crove Music Soctety.Membership of the Society will entitle you to special rates for records, tapes, books, concert, and opera subscriptions. Full details of all these benefits will be sent to you as soon as you acquire 77ie- New Crove. Grove's Dictionaries of Music 15 East 26th St.. New York. NY' 10010 (800) 221-2123 (In New York, call (2121481-1332)

PSYCHOLOGY J e r o m e l i m n e r , P h . D . '41, Actual Minds. Possible Worlds. Harvard, $15. A learned investigation of the "narrative m o d e " â&#x20AC;&#x201D; t h e side of the mind devoted to acts of imagination that allows us to make experience meaningful.

AMY WALLACE Amy Wallace, The Prodigy, T h e troubled life (1898-1944) Sidis '14, Harvard freshman lious recluse, and burned-out

D u t t o n . $18.95. of William James at eleven, rebel"failure."

R o b e r t L. C a m p b e l l 7 5 and M a r k H . Biekhard, Knowing fjvrls and Dnelopinental Stages. Karger, $24.50. An alternative to Piagct's structural m o d e l of psychological d e v e l o p m e n t stresses the process of reflective abstraction. Daniel G o l c m a n , P h . D . 7 4 . and David H e l l e r 7 9 , editors, Pile Pleasures of Psychology, NAL/ Mentor. $4.95. Chapters by noted practitioners


Here's S1925 as full paymentâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a savings of 5200. Ship me the complete New Cmve at once. Ship mt one volume a month for 20 months and bill by charge account S106-25 per month. Here's S275 for the down payment. Ship me the complete set at once. For the balance, bill my charge account S100 per month for 20 months. Please send me a KRKt Prosfrectus

I Card No.




| N.Y. State residents please add sales tax.


S E P T E M B E R - O C T O B E R 1986


Books and Authors and theorists—for anyone fascinated by the inner workings of the mind. I^ston Havens, professor of psychiatry at Cambridge Hospital, Making Contact: Uses of Language hi Psychotherapy, Harvard, $18.50. Verbal technique as a therapeutic tool for attacking problems of isolation, domination, and submission.

Rosenzweig Ph.D. 7 8 . editors, Presenting the Past: Essays on History and tin Public, Temple, $34.95 (paper, $14.95), Historians of a new generation look at various ways the American past has been "packaged." "professionalized," and "politicized."


Arthur Kleinman, A.M. '74, professor of anthropology and psychiatry, Social Origins t/fDistress and Disease, Yale. $22. findings from the author's groundbreaking research in China on the connections between culture, mental illness, and physical symptoms.

a twenty-year study.

F. Robert Rodman '55, Keeping Hope Alive: On Becoming a Psychotherapist, Harper & Row, $15.95. Both scientific and emotional, personal and objective, is the way the author describes his profession. Harvey L. Rubin, M.P.I 1. '68, Supermarriage: Overcoming die P/rdictalde Crises of Married Life. Bantam, $14.95. Tactics for navigating thorough waters of successive stages of marriage.


Paul Boyer '61, Ph.D. '66, By the Bond/s F.arly Light: American 'Thought and Culture at the Dawn of the Atomic Age. Pantheon, $22.50. Oral, visual, and written evidence fuels i study of the ways in which the bomb has penetrated the fabric of American life. John \V. Dower, Ph.D. '72, War Without Meny: Race and Power in the Pacific War, Pantheon, $22.50. How the Americans and Japanese linked centuries-old patterns of racist thought to the fearful realities of modem warfare. George McT. Kahin '40, Ci '40-'41, Intervention: How America Became Involved in Vietnam, Knopf, $24.95. Actions and decisions, analyzed from classified documents, which led to our entanglement in South Vietnamese politics. Walter Laqucur and Richard Breitman, Ph.D. '75. Breaking the Silence, Simon Cv Schuster, $17.95. The experience of Kduard Schultc. a German industrialist who first warned the Allies of Hitler's extermination plan. Joseph H. Lynch, Ph.D. '71. Codpairnfs and Kinship in F.arh Alediival F.urope. Princeton, $49. Between A.D. 200 and 1000, sponsorship at baptism evolved from a simple liturgical act to a foundation for enduring relationships. Susan Porter Benson, Steven Brier, and Roy




Richard Falh, S.J.D. "62, Raiting the World Court. Virginia. $25. Why the path of international adjudication has rarely been taken since 1945, and how to make the World Court effective.

I. Nelson Rose, J.D. 79. Gambling and the I jiw. Gambling Times, $19.95. A definitive text on conflicting gambling regulations and laws, at the federal and state levels.

MEDICINE AND HEALTH Michael Rosenthal '58. The Character Factory: Baden-Powells Hoy Scouts and the Imperatives of Empire. Pantheon. $22.95. Originally formed to help bolster a crumbling British Empire, the Scouts evolved into a worldwide organization and the most popular youth movement in history. Benjamin I. Schwartz '38, M.A.T. '41, Ph.D. '50. Williams professor of history and political science, '/'he World of Thought in Ancient China. Harvard. $27.50. A vigorous reexamination of important texts illuminates China's classical heritage and its relation to popular culture.


Michael R. Beschloss, M.B.A. '80. .Mayday: Eisenhower. Khrushcluv and the C-J Affair, I [arper &i Row, $19.95. A stunning exhibition of research and reporting discloses one ol the most bizarre schemes in recent history.

Ronald Dworkin '53. LL.B. '57, Latti Empire. Harvard/Belknap, $20. Incisive explanation of the Anglo-American legal system.

Paul S. Hoff '64. Inventions in the Marketplace: Patent Ucensing and the I \S. Antitiust Laws, American Enterprise Institute. $5.95. Innovative review of a long-brewing set of issues hindering our position in the world marketplace.

John T. Maltsberger, M.D. '59, lecturer on psychiatry, Suicide Risk: The Formulation ofClinical Judgment, NYU, $32. Ways that doctors can assess and treat the potential suicide—based on Samuel Osherson, Ph.D. '73, research psychiatrist to the University, instructor in psychiatry. Finding our Fathers: fhe Unfinished Business oj Manhood, free Press, $17.95. A complex, healing agenda for men at midlife that involves recognition of their fathers' heroism and failure.

markable excitement, told by the lawyer who masterminded von Billow's successful appeal and subsequent acquittal.



Steven J. Bennett, A.M. '76, Playing Hardhall With Soft Skills. Bantam, $8.95. For liberal arts professionals who want to cultivate an entrepreneurial mind-set.

Judy Alter, M.A.T '61. Stretch and Strengthen. Houghton Mifflin, $17.95. Prevention and cure of muscle pain through a comprehensive exercise regime that promotes lifelong flexibility. Susan Baker, instructor in pediatrics. Roberta Henry, and Boston Children's Hospital. Parents' Guide to Nutrition: Healthy Fating From Birth Through Adolescence. Addison-Wesley. $16.95. I'nfanatical and complete reference geared to working parents and their latchkey children. Daniel M. Fox '59. Ph.D. '64, Health Policies, Health Politics: fhe British and American Experience, 1911-1965. Princeton. $25. A comparison of histories reveals a shared optimism about the results of medical intervention that has drawn attention away from regulating or improving the environment and toward individual services. E DWAR D


George I. Brown, lxl. D. '58, and L'ri Merry, 'fhe Xrurotic Behavior of Organizations, Gardner. $24.95. Understanding organizational decline through Ciestalt theory. Richard E. Kopclman, D.B.A. '74. Managing Pntduclkity: A Practical. People-Oriented Perspective, McGraw-Hill. $16.95. Systematic survey of organizational interventions that have worked antl others that haven't. Randall P. Marigcr, Ph.D. '83, Consumption Behavior and the Effects of Government Fiscal Policies. Harvard. $32. How people decide what to consume and what to save and its relation to the macroecononiv, examined through a stnicrural model that tests the life-cycle theory. Michael L. Murphy '64, The Airline That Pride Almost Hong/it: fhe Snuggle to 'Hike Over Continental Airlines, Watts. $16.95. Industry-wide instability is reflected in this account of a fight to save a company—by management on one hand and employees on the other.

LAW Alan M. Dershowitz, professor of law, Reversal of Fortune: Inside the Yon Biilow Case, Random House. $19.95. A legal detective story of re-

Edward Shorter, Ph.D. '68, Bedside .Manners: The Trou/ded Histoty of Doctors and Patients. Simon & Schuster. $18.95. A rwo-hundred-ycar chronicle of science and society sets the scene for today's sophisticated patients and their disease-oriented physicians. Harvey B. Simon, M.D. '67, and Steven R. Lcvisohn '62. M.D. '66. The Sports Illustrated Book of Fitness. Little, Brown, $19.95, Sensible, authoritative, and encouraging l>ook that brings out the athlete hidden in everyone.

John D. Sioeckle, M.D. '47. professor of medicine, editor, F.namnters Between Patients and Doctors: An Anthology, M.I.T., $35 (paper, $17.50). Seventeen articles (1927-1978) showthat the essence of diagnosis, therapy, and management of illness continues ro reside in the doctor-patient relationship.

SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY Adrian Forsyth, Ph.D. '78, A SiimralHistory of Sex: The Ecology and Evolution of Sexual Behavior, Scrihncr's. $16.95. Seventeen essays on diverse sexual behaviors—from fungi to humans—unravel the evolutionary logic behind promiscuity, incest taboos, pornography, and mate selection. Gerald Holton, Ph.D. '48, Mallinckrodt professor of physics, professor of rhe history of science, 'Tie Advancement of Science, and Its Burdens: lie Jefferson Lecture and Ofier Essays, Cambridge, $39.50 (paper, $11.95). Holton's continuing analysis of modern science and its pervasive influence contrasts Kinstein's work with other styles of research and addresses the unforeseen consequences of scientific progress. David M. Roup, Ph.D. '57. Tie Nemesis Affair: A Story of tie Deafi of Dinosaurs and tie Ways of Science, Norton, $14.95. Exploring the controversial "death star" theory with its 26-millionycar cycle, Raup draws a startling picture of how contemporary scientists work. Robert Shapiro, Ph.D. '60. Origins: A Skeptic's

Guide to the Creation of life on Earth, Summit, $17.95. Modem theories on the origin of life questioned, analyzed, and rejected as being closer to myth than scientific fact.

POLITICAL SCIENCE Zbigniew Brzczinski, Ph.D. '53, Game Plan: A Geo-Strategic Framewort for tie Conduct of tic V.S.Soviet Conflict, Atlantic Monthly, $17.95. Practical guide to action in the geopolitical struggle for control of Eurasia: how America can stay in "the game" while aiming for peace. Norman Jacobs, Ph.D. '51. 'Tic Korean Road to Modernization and Development. Illinois. $24.95. Par-ranging assessment of Korean religious, social, educational, economic, and political institutions today. Piecro S. Nivola '66, M.C.P. '69, Ph.D. 76, Tie Politics of Energy Conservation, Brookings, $31.95 (paper, $11.95). The debates about federal energy pricing, complicated by ideological disputes over the role of government in reducing social inequities.

The only layman's handbook to rhe history, function, and effect of the Constitution. Robert Shuplcn, Nf '47'48, Bitter Victory. Harper & Row. $15.95. The Vietnamese and Cambodians as seen by a veteran correspondent ten years after the fall of Saigon. David A. Stockman, Dv '68-70, INS 7 6 . The Triumph of Politics: Why the Reagan Revolution Failed, Harper & Row, $21,95. The former director of the Office of Management and Budget describes the collapse of Rcaganomics under the assault of personal rivalries and special interests.

EDUCATION Howard R. Bouen and Jack H. Schuster, J.D. '63, American Professors: A National Resource Imperiled, Oxford, $24.95. I low inadequate compensation and shifts in enrollment within disciplines have created a crisis in higher education.

William H. Riker, Ph.D. '48. Tie Art of Political Manipulation. Yale, $18.50 (paper, $6.95). From the Roman senate to FRA's recent defeat in Virginia—ways and means used by leaders and ordinary citizens to win political advantage.

Stephon F. BrumbcifJ, M A T . '63. Fd.D. 7 1 , Going to America, Going to School: lie Jivisit Immigrant-Puhlic School F.ncotinter in Turn-of-ticCcntun NtV York City. Praegcr, $29.95. Impact of immigrants on New York's public school system, which in turn sought to transform them into Americans.

John Sexton, J.D. 78, and Nat Brandt, II i^ Free Are Hfe? What tic Constitution Says We Can and Cannot Do, Fvans. $17.95. (paper, $9.95).

Peter Flbow, fj '59-'60, Em/rracing Contraries: Explorations in learning and 'leaching, Oxford. $19.95. A recognition of the inevitability of

HARVARD The Harvard Coop extends its warmest wishes to Harvard University on this, its 350th anniversary. And special congratulations to the class of 1986. For 104 years we've been serving the Harvard community, and the tradition continues today with the finest selection of insignia clothing, accessories, glassware and much more. The Coop's the place for all your commemorative shopping.




Visii the following C o o p locations Harvard Square. C o o p at Longwood. MIT Student Center. One Federal St Downtown. Business School C o o p a n d Ihe Law School C o o p Harvard Square o p e r Mon-Sat 9 20-5:45 pm. Ihurs Ml 8 3 0 Coop at Longwood o p e n Mon-Fri 9 15-7 p m , Thurs til 8 30. Sat 9 15-545 One Federal St open Mon-Fri 9 15-530 p m to order call toll free 1 800-792-5170 [in Mass) or 1-800-343-5570 (outside Mass) Coop Charge. MasterCard. Visa a n d American Express welcome



Tiffany's Celebrates Harvard's 350th Anniversary Commemorative designs from Tiffany's. In sterling silver, bearing the 350th Anniversary emblem: Bookmark, $35. Money clip, MO. Screwball key ring, *38. "Harvard Square" box in handpainted Battersea enamel, *100. To order call 1-800-526-0649.

Books and Authors paradox and contradiction underlies this new. stimulating method of education. Herbert Kohl '58, On Teaching, Schockcn. $7.95. Updated edition of a ten-year-old classic on the art of educating children. Fern Rciss '85, 'Taking lime Off in Israel, Adama, $9.95. Special programs, work opportunities, kibbutz life, and other interesting ways for students to experience Israel. Cynthia Solomon '59, Ed.D. '85, Computer Environments for Children: A Reflection on Theories of1saming ami Education, M.I.T., $22.50. The computer as an interactive textbook and an expressive medium—issues and possibilities. Patrick Welsh, with Dan Morgan '58, Tales Out of School, Viking Penguin, $15.95. Unvarnished picture of our high schools by an English teacher in Alexandria, Virginia, conveys an unusual understanding of the needs of students, parents, teachers, and communities.



E.F. Hutton Suggeststhe value added investment service. In markets too volatile for part-time attention, today's investor urgently needs professional portfolio management services. E.F. Hutton Suggests meets the need with a unique approach. This comprehensive service adds value to the individual's portfolio or a corporate retirement plan's investment program because we perform three vital steps proven essential to successful investment. •We help you to define your specific investment objectives and guidelines. Often this first step to a profitable portfolio is not clearly stated. • Wc evaluate and identify Independent Discretionary Money Managers. As an architect inrroduces an appropriate contraaor, wc attempt to introduce managers compatible with your particular objectives.



Judith K. Brown, Ed.D."62, 1ST '67-'69, and Virginia Kerns, In Her Prime: A New View of Middle-Aged Women, Bergin & Garvey, $27.95 (paper, $14.95). Shattering stereotypes, a crosscultural view finds older women "more energetic, autonomous, and less restricted" than younger ones. Sylvia Ann Hewlett, Gp "67-'68, .1 Issser Life: The Myth of Women's liberation in America, Morrow, $16.95. Our working women earn the lowest wage relative to men anywhere in the industrialized world, with only precarious security says this call for change. Katherine Usher Henderson, M.A.T. '60, and Barbara F. McManus, Ph.D. 76, Half Humankind: Contexts and Texts of the Controversy About Women in England, 1540-1640, Illinois. $27.50 (paper, $11.50). Women's image and status in literature and real life arc sorted out through study and annotation of sixteen key documents from the English Renaissance.

•Wc provide a Quarterly Monitor that tracks your portfolio progress. The continual process of manager appraisal is the systemized identification and evaluation process missing in most investment programs.

Judith Fricdlandcr, A.M. '67; Blanche Wiescn Cook; Alice Kessler-Harris, 1ST '76-77: and Carroll Smith-Rosenberg. 1ST 75-76, editors, Women in Culture and Politics: A Century of Change, Indiana, $39.50 (paper, $12.95). Interdisciplinary essays by European and American feminist scholars, many of whom have established women's studies curricula.

Wc would like to assist you in your investment program (Minimum Account 5100,000). If you would like more information on E.F. Hutton Suggests, Call us for an appointment M

Joyce Lebru-Chapman, Ph.D. '58, The Rani of Jhansi: A Study in Female Heroism in India, I lawaii, $25. A young widow's struggle and death in the Sepoy Mutiny (1858) has special significance in the context of British-Indian history.

(617) 739-8704.

Susan Rubin Suleiman, Ph.D. '69, professor of Romance and comparative literatures, editor, The Female Rodx in Western Culture: Contemporary Perspectives. Harvard, $25 (paper, $9.95). Wideranging essays explore the representation of women in art and literature.

Martin Stocklan, First Vice President. M B A 1966 E.F. H u t t o n & Company Inc. 1244 Bovlston Street Chestnut Hill, MA 0 2 1 6 7

Rosemary Barton Tobin, M.A.T. '63, Vincent ofReauvais' De Eruditione Eiliorum Xobi/ium: The Education of Women, Peter Lang, $20.85. An elucidation of the ideas of a thirtcenrh-century Dominican educator and their place in medieval studies.



To receive any catalogue displayed in this section, simply fill in the adjacent response card.

Great Foods Great Gifts

ML Gourmet ^WM Gift Baskets \^m 1 delivered personally ^-^ or shipped nationwide via UPS. Send for our color brochure. Epicurean Express Brookline. MA 02146 (617) 734-2523

... the unexpected Open a treasure Irove of extraordinary holiday surprises with the 1986 Neiman-MarcusChristmas Book. Its filled with the worlds most original Christmas gifts to dazzle your imagination and delight everyone on your holiday list Peruse over 100 colorful pages from the comfort of home and select whatever strikes your fancy Then charge your purchases conveniently to your N-M credit card with one simple call to our 24-hour toll-free number. Order your copy of our most provocative gift idea book (or only $5.00. applicable towards your first credit card purchase from the Christmas Book- (We also invite you to open a N-M account by phone. If you have a major credit card and bank account call 1-800NEIMANS, mention Depl. 5586, and charge your subscription today )












8(71111 IrtS Important Spoiling Paintings uid Prin Li NEUnXtK

r /IIP


Introducing the Gucci 1986 Autumn/Winter Catalogue. In these pages you will find a sampling of our seasonal collection. The finest fashion, leather goods, gifts, and accessories to suit your individual lifestyle. $6.00. <gzp&

Sotheby's Catalogues. Share our experts' knowledge through Sotheby's lavishly illustrated catalogues. Order a furniture or paintings catalogue for the discount price of $10.. and receive a $10 certificate applicable toward an annual catalogue subscription.

GRAND FILE The Grand Finale catalogue is filled with savings on quality merchandise from Pierre Cardin, Martex, Wedgwood andTowle. This Christmas, you'll find exquisite jewelry, designer clothing, china, luggage, fine linens, name brand appliances, and unique gifts, all at bargain prices. Satisfaction guaranteed. For a full year of catalogues, send $2. (U.S. addresses only.)

GUCCI North Carolina furniture prices in Wei lesley, M a s s . For quotations and sales of furnishings manufactured by these masters, phone:

1-800CERCOST 1 (800) 235-2678 The Williamsburg Collection Kittinger • Waterford • Station Hickory Chair • Fairington Southwood Reproductions * Carr Councill Craftsmen • Hekman Madison Square • Wellington Hall Wright Table • Classic Leather Friedman Brothers Mirrors • Carr Virginia Metalcrafters • Stickley LaBarge • Frederick Cooper J.J. Korman • Wildwood Lamps Fancher • Sligh Desks

Stuart S w a n Furniture 103 Central St., Wellesley. MA 02181

S E P T E M B E R - O C T O B E R 1986




To receive any catalogue displayed in this section, simply fill in the adjacent response card.



This Christmas, select gifts as unique as the individuals on your gift list from the Horchow Christmas catalogues. From the antique vase any collector would prize to the one-of-a-kind tie for the man who's hard to suit. Shop by mail or toll-free phone for decoratives, fashion, fine linens, gifts, accessories, jewelry and collectibles. To receive a full year of catalogues, including our big holiday issues, send $3.

An American Gallery, a fully-illustrated, color catalogue featuring twenty-five important paintings from our collection, by such artists as John F. Francis, Martin J. Heade, William Merritt Chase, Everett Shinn and Georgia O'Keeffe, is available for $10.00 postpaid.

RICHARD \ORK GALLERY 21 East 65th SI , NY, NY 10021 212-772-9155


Trifles catalogues are bursting with imagination and bright, tresh ideas for Christmas. Frills and fine fashions. Soft silks and sparkling silver. Gold. Handpainted pottery and delightful decoratives. Plus special values for you and your home. Shop by mail or toll-free phone. To receive a full year of catalogues, including our big holiday issues, send $2.

"'Vl\c mom important book-publishing project in the nation's history" —Newsweek— I:rom Siy.<,6 U $30.00 each in bookstores. Also available by subscription. A classic gift for any occasion. 30 I'otitnics now available. Write for free catalog.

THE LIBRARY OF AMERICA Dcpi. AH, 14 East fioth Street N e w York. N. Y. 10022 (212) 30S-3360 10

ll\K\:\kt) M A G A Z I N E

Quality Outdoor Gear and Clothing Since 1938


Ttie authoritative edition of America's classic authors. Their collected works handsomely hound in elegant, uniform volumes. Die only series of its kind.


t njoy the outdoors this fall with gear and clothing from REI, largest consumer cooperative nationwide. From binoculars to packs, fitness walking shoes to Gore-Tex* rainwear, REI supplies the best. Money-back guarantee.

Charrette Christmas The Christmas Catalog with gift ideas for all the creative people on your list—designers, artists, and students. Send for your FREE Charrette Christmas Catalog now!

charrette 31 Olympia Avenue, Woburn, MA 01888 (617)935-6000 Other locations: Harvard Square. Downtown Boston. New Haven, New York 12



To receive any catalogue displayed in this section, simply fill in the adjacent response card. S.E. Rykoff & Co. offers 48 pages of imported and domestic foods, fine cookware and flatware and other kitchen and entertaining necessities. Inside find a full selection of gourmet items, convenience foods, diet products and more. Previously only available to the finest restaurants, clubs, and hotels, now they can be found in your home! Four catalogs a year.

MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS BOSTON Discover the MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS, BOSTON by mail. Send for the Museum's new catalog and explore 91 full-color pages of unique gifts, reproduced from our renowned collections. You'll find jewelry, scarves, sculpture, glassware, posters, books, Christmas cards, children's educational games, and more. Send $1.00 for a year's subscription to our catalog.

L.L.Bean On (door Sporting

L.L. Bean, Inc. Send for our FREE Christmas 1986 Catalog. Features a full range of active and casual wear for men and women who enjoy the outdoors. Winter sports equipment, luggage, home and camp furnishings, practical and functional gift ideas. L.L. Bean offers dependable mail order service. We pay postage and guarantee 100% satisfaction.

S.E.RYK0FF&CQ Foods and Cookware of Distinction Since 1911







giHARVARDtt Your headquarters for 350th memorabilia.

J°S.A.BanK Clothiers

Posters Notepads Blankets Tapestries

HOW TO BUILD A CLASSIC WARDROBE. . . FOR LESS. Send for our catalog of fine clothing for men and women. No need to choose between quality you expect and the price you'd prefer to pay. Our 84-page color catalog features fine clothing that we make in our own workrooms. Plus classic furnishings and accessories. Satisfaction unconditionally guaranteed. One year subscription.

T-shirts Sweat Shirts Golf Shirts Caps

-'SCJMJiuii tin LidLzu/f

Aldeiwood Smoked Salmon, luxurious silk garments, innovative footwear and one-of-a kind gifts. That's just a sample of the quality items that await you in Norm Thompson's "ESCAPE from the ordinary"® catalog. All are backed by the strongest guarantee in the business. FREE catalog.

The only store devoted exclusively to selling Harvard merchandise. Call or write for:

FREE CATALOG 52 JFK Street, Cambridge, MA 02138 (617) 576-3818 16







To receive any catalogue displayed in this section, simply fill in the adjacent response card.

WinterSilks are t h e Ultimate Winter W a r m t h ! We i m p o r t luxurious silk turtlenecks, long Johns, glove liners (and dozens more!) direct f r o m the best silk knitters t h r o u g h o u t Asia, a n d sell t o you at prices 2 0 - 5 0 % off n o r m a l retail. All products are guaranteed. Send $2.00 for l-year subscription. O r d e r today! The official gazette of our imaginary republic contains not only information on our functional, natural-fabric travel and safari clothing, but also travel tales and trivia, clothing reviews by distinguished critics, unique and soulful artwork. Our offerings include: bush jackets, safari bags, multipocketed vests, khaki trousers and shorts, bush dresses.



INTERNATIONAL MALE. Much more than a catalog-it's a unique men's fashion magazine showing you how to bring it all together. Hottest new looks from Europe, Tokyo and America. Many exclusive designs plus activewear, fitness gear, underwear and grooming aids from around the world. Year subscription $2. Refundable with first order.

WinterSilks 20


This Christmas send for our

Craft (Shop

Catalogue of the finest contemporary books.

A Holiday Catalog of crafts and clothing made by hand in homes and village cooperatives in many countries. Choose from fascinating jewelry and decorative art, truly unique and beautiful things to wear; toys, gifts, tree trimmings and more-all authentic folk art treasures. Purchases contribute to vital Save the Children self-help projects. $2 (credited to first order).

The Limited Editions Club 212 682-7115

A aift of art &i, literature

T«Save the Children. 22


H A K V \ K [ ) M.ViA/INK


Save the Children's


Spiegel makes giving an art with the beautiful 1986 Christmas Catalog. Bright ideas for everyone on your list plus all you need for holiday dressing, decorating, and entertaining Complete with toys, jewelry and furs, Spiegel leaves you time to enjoy the season in style. Over 400 pages! Send $3, applicable to your first purchase, or call 1-800-3454500, ask for Catalog 622 and charge it.


is the areatest aift of all. 23




INSIDE Since 1936, Harvard has grown in ways that celebrants of its 300th anniversary could scarcely have foreseen. With the 350th at hand, the editors of this magazine attempt some quantitative and qualitative comparisons. 195 Tom Rush's folk music concert at the 350th produced a cross-generational rush for tickets. Doing nicely, thanks, after a burnout. Rush has repositioned h i m s e l f as a p e r f o r m e r - c u m impresario. 201 Rounding out fifteen years in the president's office, Derek Bok is still smiling. In an interview he discusses major developments during his presidency and some trends that may shape Harvard's future. 203 Will this year's football team enhance die excitement of the 350th? Maybe, says "Cleat," but first it must find a reliable quarterback. 208 At ninety, N e w Testament scholar Amos Wilder is the oldest survivor of Wimbledon's Centre Courtâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;which is only ten years his senior. T h e former tennis champion advises those who would live well to work at widening their experience. 211



The Classes


Tercentennial Album


Yesterday's News




Gazetteer: Harvard Square




College Pump: Records Galore

256 A show of arms at the University Printing Office, photographed by Christopher S. Johnson. The motif of three open books and the motto VKKITAS were adopted officially in 1643 (see page 66). Since then die College arms have appeared in many designs, some austerely unornamented, some exceedingly rococo.




H.\RV\KI> M . V ; A Z I M -


Taking Harvard's Measure T h e College's 350th anniversary is here. T h e occasion seems to prod us to take Harvard's measureâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;to calibrate its growth and dimensions as a human enterprise, to weigh its impact on higher education and its value to society. Because of Harvard's standing and its vencrability as an American institution, many skillful analysts are already hard at it, but can anyone's instruments catch the whole of Harvard? We think not. "Most of what a university does," wrote the late Samuel Eliot Morison in 1935, "cannot be measured by statistics, represented by graphs, weighed, or countedâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;or where it can be counted, as in Harlow Shapleys work on stellar galaxies, we cannot follow him much beyond the first hundred million lightyears!" Since Morison wrote, Scientific exploration has grown far more recondite and difficult to follow and the work (and workings) of universities far more complex and multifaceted, adding force to his argument. Morison wrote on the eve of the Tercentenary. In Three Centuries of Harvard, then in press, he had ably charted the institutional growth of Harvard from Puritan times to the start of the Conant administration. But even Morison, perceptive historian that he was, could not have foretold the continued growth that has altered the University in the last fifty years. Some of the alterations are primarily matters of scaleâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;but in orders of magnitude that would have been almost unthinkable in Depression days. Faculty appointments (part time as well as full time) have increased from fewer than 600 to some 2,860. Staff positions have

proliferated, from 1,290 to 8,300. Enrollment in the College and ten graduate schools was 7,700 in 1936; it has since leveled off at a shade under 17,000. College tuition has gone from $400 a year to $11,390 (with another $5,000 billable for room, board, and fees). T h e University's annual budget has grown from $14 million to $650 million. Endowment, valued at $140 million in 1936, now exceeds $3.5 billion. Library holdings, an index that need not be adjusted for inflation, have grown from 3 million volumes to II million, and continue to accumulate at a rate of 60.000 a year. As for the number of living alumni, we have expanded more than threefold, from 76,000 to 234,000. Fair Harvard is fairer in 1986. T h e 16,936 degree candidates enrolled in all schools of the University in the last academic year included 6,709 women, or 40 percent of the total. Women constituted only 13 percent of the student community in 1936, and the entire alumni body of Radeliffe numbered onlv 8,(X)0. Last vcar one out of seven

Harvard has grown in orders of magnitude that would have been almost unthinkable in Depression days.

students represented an ethnic minority: all told (in round numbers), there were 1,000 Asians, 850 blacks, 500 Hispanics, and 50 Native Americans. No one was keeping track in 1936, but the comparable figures would have been minuscule. Thanks in large part to the advent of jet travel. Harvard is now far more cosmopolitan than she could have been fifty years ago. Last year she enrolled

Left: Changing Cambridge, as things stood on June 26, 1986. We are looking southwest from an airplane near the top of William James Hall (right foreground). T h e brick pueblo-like complex by the river is the new Charles Square, with the Kennedy School just to the left and a Harvard commercial development to the right. The photograph is by Laurence Lowry. SBI'TKMRKR-Ocn'OBF.R 1986


2,374 students from 104 countries, ineluding 807 from the Far East, 574 from Europe, 359 from Canada, 257 from Latin America, 165 from the Middle East, 111 from Africa, and 72 from Down Under. (Harvard's intercourse with Communist states, incidentally, is a bit skewed: 105 students from China were enrolled last year, as opposed to two from the U.S.S.R., Z3 from other nations in Eastern Europe, and seven from Cuba and Nicaragua.) It's a truism to observe that diversity has become Harvard's most distinctive characteristic. In the years since the Tercentenary observance, an occasion that President Conant used to nudge forward his program for national scholarships, Harvard has transcended its ingrained insular world view—tolerating outsiders, while brimming with Yankee conviction—to become a place of diversity. It did so by utilizing (at times somewhat haltingly) an assortment of levers: need-blind admissions and financial aid (to the tune of $110 million last year), affirmative action, and a range of academic programs including women's and cultural studies. Harvard has changed in another significant way. Far more than in 1936, it is now a fonim where major issues— South Africa, covert intelligence, tax policy, AIDS research, and a host of other concerns, both weighty and frivo-

lous—are argued out on a daily basis. As an institution Harvard is deeply engaged in the social issues of its time, with attendant risks to its academic freedom as well as to the security it continues to seek from generous but not always like-minded donors. "Marriages and universities arc the two most overloaded institutions in our society," observes John Shattuck, Harvard's vice president for government and public affairs. In the end, however, who is to say how Harvard has changed, or what Harvard really is? "We all go to a different Harvard." Susan Cole '74 said that once, in our hearing, and the thought still sticks in our mind. It goes without saying that Harvard alters from generation to generation—indeed, it seems to do a quick-change whenever you look away for a moment. But even within the same age cohort, your Harvard probably wasn't quite ours; it may in fact have been drastically different. Yet something unites us. Is it Harvard's insistent way of exhorting us to do better, or to put it another way, the level of self-demand it inculcates? ( " T h e business of education," said President Lowell, "is making people uncomfortable.") No question. Harvard teaches us to be critical—of ideas, of ourselves, and, inevitably, of others— and as we hone our critical faculties, we

are impelled to train them on Harvard herself. For a time we see only her flaws, and are full of deeply felt and clearly correct ideas for effacing them ("You might start by changing the name to something less pretentious," a graduating senior wrote in response to a 1970 Harvard Bulletin questionnaire that asked, inter alia, "What would you do to make Harvard a better place?"). But annoyance abates. One day we find ourselves writing a check to the Harvard College Fund, joining a Harvard Club, sending off an alumni note to this magazine. We read in its class notes pages that the one-time design s t u d e n t who created the powerful clcnchcd-fist symbol for the 1969 Harvard strike is now vice president-schools of the Harvard Club of a large West Coast city. So it goes. So, for the moment, may we all join in cheering Harvard on, whatever her faults, whatever our own faults, whatever the world's most grievous faults. Whatever.

Proto-Olympians Writing of what was then the present in Three Centuries of Harvard (1936), Samuel Eliot Morison struck a familiar note that would bridge the once and future Harvard: Old graduates complained (as did their predecessors in 1836 and 1886) that the great teachers of the past were gone; but as each Olympian dies or retires, his place is filled, sometimes not so well, sometimes better; and no doubt in 1986 the old grads will be asking. "Where are the great men we venerated in the Lowell and Conant era?"

Taking a flutter in the academic futures market, Morison went on to reel off the names of more than sixty teachers, from almost twenty fields, who seemed sufficiently prominent in 1936 to assure a measure of recognition fifty years later. To speculate is to court disappointment in the long run, and if Admiral Morison were on deck today, hemight be dismayed to find that the reputations of many of his proto-Olympians have, unhappily, flunked the test of time. It remains to be seen whether anyone in 2036 will in fact be asking, "Where Party planners, 'ihe steering committee of the 350th anniversary celebration, front rota; from left: John Shattuck, Richard M. Hunt, FredL. G/imp Ichairman), David A. Aloian. Bad row: are the great men and women we venRobert T. Shenton, Henry Rosovsby, Thomas II.' Stephenson (generalsecretary). erated in the Bok era?" But a present1%



HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABIES. At right, a new wing on the John K Kennedy School of Government. Top, studio space in Gund Hall, Graduate School of Design. Above, the newly refurbished interior of Austin Hall at the Law School. Each of these establishments is celebrating an anniversary of its own this year. The Kennedy School (under one name or another) is fifty years old and is marking the milestone with a reception and by sponsoring symposia as part of the overall 350th celebration. Topics and speakers include His Excellency Ahmed Zaki Vamani on oil markers; Dr. Tenley Albright on smoking; Daniel

day inventory of outstanding teachers from the Faculty of Arts and Sciencesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; based on the pulling power of their course offerings, the good report of students, and consistently high ratings in the Committee on Undergraduate Education's Course Evaluation Guideâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;would surely include the English department's William Alfred and Walter Jackson Bate, who elicit remarkable affection from students and have been at Harvard through long academic careers. Despite the English department's reputation as not-quite-up-to-snuff, a disproportion-

Patrick Moynihan on America's poor; Caspar Weinberger on avoiding nuclear war: Shirley Williams on American politics as seen from abroad; Cal Thomas on religion, politics, and television; and more. T h e Design School is throwing a banquet and a birthday party and has scheduled symposia itself. So has the Law School, which this September begins a year-long celebration of the hundredth anniversary of its alumni association. Supreme Court Justice William Brennan will deliver the Holmes Lecture September 5. and Supreme Court Justice Harry Blackmun will say a few words at a gala banquet

ate number of its members earn superior ratings in the CUE Guide, including Professors Sacvan Bercovitch, James Engell, Robert Kick, Marjorie Garber, Helen Yendler, and Robert Watson, an associate professor who trades off with Garber in the Core Curriculum's introduction to Shakespeare (it was the College's second most populous course last spring, with 558 students; introductory economics, with 939 enrolled, was the premier attraction). In classics, a strong department, Emily Vermeule and Zeph Stewart win

accolades year after year; Gregory Nagy, a younger teacher, was described as "god-like" by student admirers filing reports for the 1985 edition of the CUE Guide (talk about venerating). Oleg Grabar, a veteran teacher, is hailed for his engaging presentations in fine arts (though Fine Arts 13, the vintage introductory course that he taught, is being terminated this year). Anna Chave and Nora Nercessian, both assistant professors, also win high marks from students of fine arts. In music, Luisc Vosgerchian is singled out for her chamber SKPTKMKKR-OcrrollF.U 1986


music performance course. T h e philosophy department has fewer big names on its faculty than it did in the Eliot era (James, Miinsterberg, Palmer, Royce, Santayana) or the Lowell and Conant era (Demos, Hocking, Whitehead) or the Pusey era (Aiken, Quinc, Tillich), but it does have the eminent and humane John Rawls, now Conant University Professor, as well as the provocative Robert Nozick. Diana Eck, head tutor in the study of religion, is much praised for her Core Curriculum course in Indian culture, as is lecturer Dorothy Austin for her course on psychology and religion. Juan Marietta], who occupies a chair once held by Henry Wadswortli Longfellow, stands out among professors of Romance languages, certainly one of Harvard's strongest departments. Among the admired teachers in visual and environmental studies are sculptor Dimitri Hadzi and polymath Arthur Locb. Anthropologists consistently cited for effective teaching include Irven DeVore, a pillar of the department for twenty years, David Pilbeam, and Sally Falk Moore, a relative newcomer who became master of Dunster House in 1984 and dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences last year. T h e economics faculty boasts many strong teachers, among them three Jeffreys— Sachs, Williamson, and Wolcowitz— and Geyser University Professor Henry Rosovsky, Fellow of Harvard College and former dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences. T h e department bestows its own teaching prizes, one honoring Professor Emeritus John Kenneth Galbraith: past winners include A. Michael Spence, now dean of the faculty; Richard Caves (twice), Richard Freeman, Benjamin Friedman. Stephen Marglin, James Medoff, and Associate Professors Andrew Abel and Mark Watson. Government teachers who seem to get out the vote include Jorge Dominguez. Stanley Hoffmann, Samuel Huntington, Roderick MacFarquhar, Joseph Nye Jr., Michael Sandel, James Q. Wilson, Pforzheimer University Professor Sidney Verba (director of the University Library), and Associate Professor Harry Hirsch. Praised for the teaching of history, among others, are Adams University Professor Bernard Bailyn; American intellectual historian Donald Fleming;



Franklin L. Ford, McLean professor of ancient and modern history, and a former dean of the faculty; Nathan Huggins, who teaches Afro-American history; and Associate Professor Alan Brinkley, an Americanist. In psychology, George Goethals and Jerome Kagan, both longtime members of the faculty, win kudos, as does Ellen Langer, who teaches "the psychology of control."

The department of economics bestows its own teaching prizes, one in honor of John Kenneth Galbraith. Among its best teachers are Jeffrey Sachs, Jeffrey Williamson, and Jeffrey Wolcowitz.

Ezra Vogel, whose specialty is Japan, stands out in sociology, as does the head tutor. Associate Professor Stephen Cornell; he gives the department's introductory course and a well-received course on ethnicity. Robert Coles, professor of psychiatry and medical humanities, bridges many fields in his writing and teaching, and commands an enthusiastic following. As teachers of astronomy to nonscientists, Owen Gingerich and lecturer David Latham are warmly applauded. Biologist Edward O. Wilson is renowned for his effectiveness in the classroom. So are chemists Dudley Hershbach (the retiring co-master of Currier House), Jeremy Knowles, and Leonard Nash, now in his fifrh decade of teaching at Harvard. T h e brilliance and quick wit of Stephen Jay Gould, who holds appointments both in geology- and zoology, have made him one of Harvard's best-known faculty members. In mathematics, a department which enjoys the highest standing, head tutor Andrew Gleason was one of the architects of the Core Curriculum; he holds Harvard's second oldest chair, the Hollis professorship of mathematics and natural philosophy. In physics, another traditionally strong department, popular teachers include Paul Bamberg, a pio-

neer in self-paced learning; Sidney Coleman, who cautions students not to call him at home after 3 A.M.; Howard Georgi, who lunches regularly with his students; Nobel laureate Sheldon Glashow; and Gerald Holton, an educational innovator who has taught at Harvard since the mid-Forties. In the department of the history of science—just starting up when Morison wrote in 1936—chairman Barbara Rosenkrantz is highly regarded for her teaching. In computer science, one of the newest fields, mainstays of the teaching staff include William Bossert, co-master of Lowell House, and Harry7 Lewis. Any assessment of Harvard's teaching strength would be incomplete if it failed to list at least some of the emeriti: e.g., Finlcy and Hammond (classics), Levin (comparative literature), Forbes (music), Quine (philosophy), Galbraith and Mason (economics), Beer (government), Fairbank and Reischaucr (history), Freund (law), Erikson and Skinner (psychology), Riesman (sociology), Edsall (biochemistry), Wald (biology), Doty (chemistry), Purcell (physics). These scholars don't need first names to be recognized. Many are still doing research, and, in one form or another, teaching. They were bom too late to make the 1936 list of might-be Olympians, but they are, notwithstanding, the Olympians of our time.

Fatter and Fuller T h e ever-increasing avoirdupois of the Harvard Alumni Directors provides, at five-year intervals, a tangible index of the Harvard family's unstinted growth. T h e newest edition of the directory— keyed to Harvard's 350th anniversary and published in May—is more than three pounds heavier than the 1980 edition and has 413 more pages. It lists the names, addresses, degrees, House and class affiliations, and occupations of 234,136 living alumni (compared with 209,035 in the 1980 edition), and is cross-referenced both by geographical area and by school and class. To accommodate so much information about so many people, this year's directory is bifurcated into two volumes. T h e first contains an alphabetized listing of alumni (including those


Elizabeth Thick, a visitor from Heat/torn. England, takes the cooling mists tit the Science Center fountain.

deceased since 1980), demographic statistics, and an illustrated chronology of events in Harvard history. The second volume contains the cross-referenced listings and a record of honorary degree recipients from 1917 to 1985. The new director.- is something of a milestone in electronic publishing at Harvard. Information was initially gathered through questionnaires mailed to all alumni. The resulting data, requiring 600 million characters (bytes), were stored on 1.3 miles of computer tape. After proofreading and correction, tapes were transmitted to R.R. Donnelley and Sons, whose computer facilities automatically typeset the material for printing. For the first time—and at some cost to readability—the listings appear in a four-column format, set in a sans-serif typeface two-thirds the size of the face used in the 1980 edition. Like even,' directory published since 1915, the first volume starts with the name of Rakraprachit Aab '13, A.M.

'14, lieutenant general (retired) of the Thai army and professor emeritus at Chulalongkom University. T h e roll of alumni includes men and women from every state, possession, and territory, and 163 countries and dependencies on every continent but Antarctica. Massachusetts still has the largest number of alumni (42.138), followed bv New York (27,054) and California (21,489). A breakdown by University departments shows 62,483 alumni of Harvard College, 18,370 alumnae of Radcliffe, and 151,069 alumni of the graduate and professional schools, including 3,266 from University Extension. T h e earliest listing of Harvard graduates was published as a broadside in 1674. After 1682, catalogues were apparently issued triennially, with all names in Latin. T h e interval was lengthened to five years in 1875, and since 1890 the names have been given in English. T h e first directors'—as opposed to a record of names by class—

appeared in 1910; it included names and addresses for 32,188 former students. A listing of 494 women graduates appeared as a separate section of the 1934 edition, which included 66,248 male alumni. In the 1940 edition alumnae were listed in proper sequence with alumni, ending what the editors termed their "invidiously separate role." T h e new edition, bound in crimson buckram with gold stamping on the spine, weighs eight pounds, thirteen ounces, and is available in a boxed set for $70. It may be ordered from the Alumni Records Office, i lolyoke Center 671, Cambridge, Mass. 02138.

Talking Harvard One of the souvenirs inspired by the 350th is a sixty-minute audiotape called "Voices From the Harvard Past," to be offered at the Coop and other book and record shops around the Square. SBPTEMBER-OCTOBSR IWih


The voices belong to some of the most famous people of the twentieth centuryâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;formulating ideas and spouting anecdotes during lectures, speeches, readings, and discussions on Harvard ground. The audience at the opening convocation on September 4, "Foundation Dav," will hear one thirtecn-min-

utc segment: well-chosen words from Harvard addresses by Winston Churchill, Franklin I). Roosevelt, George C Marshall, Robert Frost, John R Kennedy, and Martin Luther King. Segments planned for the full-length tape include gems from Harvard Nobel laureates (Nicolaas Bloembergen, Edward Pur-

FOREST CONSERVATION. The Harvard Forest, in Peter sham, Massachusetts, possesses 2i excellent dioramas that show what can happen when a primeval New England forest is cleared for farming and the farm is later abandoned. White pine quickly covers the pastures, in time is clearcut for timber, and is replaced by a mixed stand of conifers and hardwoods identical in composition to the forest primeval. (This is a trick one wishes tropical rain forests could perform, but they can't.) Staff members at the Fisher Museum of Forestry, where the models are on display, noticed some months ago that an evillooking growth had appeared on the background painting of the largest diorama, which depicts a remnant of old-growth forest on the shore of Harvard Pond. Suspecting a fungus, they tried putting heat below the model to dry things one. Nothing changed. Fearful that whatever it was had eaten, or was about to eat, through the painting, the director of the Forest, Professor John G. Torrey, appealed co experts. In mid-June the conservation department of the Fogg Art Museum went the 65 miles west from Cambridge to Peter2(1(1


cell); teachers (l.A. Richards, John Finley, John Kenneth Galbraith, David Ricsman); and writers (T.S. Eliot, Wallace Stevens, E.E. Cummings, Barbara Tuchman). As well as W.E.B. DuBois, Mother Teresa, and Norman Mailer. The project began last winter when Richard Hunt, University Marshal,

sham to inspect the situation in force. Their diagnosis: mold. The treatment: removal with a long-handled sable-hair brush. The result: a diorama apparently good as new. The prognosis: long life, with vigilance. The back of the afflicted model is plaster; the others arc zinc, and with the exception of one of them, only slightly affected, they have resisted mold perhaps for that reason. In an effort to control humidity in the museum, which is not airconditioned, management is having the exterior of the building treated with silicone this summer. F'rom the left in the photograph are Teri Hensick, associateconservator of paintings at the Fogg; John Torrey, director of the Forest; Ernest Gould, assistant director; Jennifer Spohn and Mark Aronson, interns in painting conservation at the Fogg; and Henry Lie, assistant conservator of objects and sculpture. The dioramas were made in Cambridge between 1931 and 1941 by Theodore Pitman and his associates. They may be seen weekdays, nine to five, by travelers who take to the woods.

JOHN HARVARD'S JOURNAL asked Donald Bacon, assistant dean for planning and development in continuing education, to assemble a five-minute tape of key moments from great Harvard speeches. Bacon did so, assisted by Michael Milburn, of Lamont's Woodberry and Famsworth rooms, and Margaret Keyes, of Harvard's Modern Language Center. In the process they turned up hundreds of recordings too riveting to put back on the shelf. T h e current edition of "Voices," which was produced by engineer Jeff Martini, is a piece of craftsmanship and an evocative reminiscence. Proceeds from sales will help to continue the work of Harvard's sound archivesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and possibly to concoct another hour of memorable voices.

Hot Ticket Perhaps hoping to forestall an overdose of pomp and circumstance, thousands of 350th celebrants have signed up for light relief in the form of a Friday evening concert, organized by folk singer Tom Rush '63. Billed as An Evening at Club 47, it will carry forward the long tradition of American folk music that flourished with special vitality in the coffeehouses of C a m b r i d g e during Rush's undergraduate days. On September 5 in Tercentenary Theatre, Rush and his colleagues, including Joan Baez (another star of the early Cambridge club scene), Livingston Taylor, Bonnie Raitt '72, and Robin Batteau '69, will bring their music to a crowd roughly 200 times larger than could have been seated in the original Club 47. When Rush and Stephen Whisnant of the alumni office first discussed the idea of a Harvard 350th concert, they were thinking primarily of an event that would appeal to younger alumni. But the steering committee decided to plan for a much largergroup. T h e "universality" of Rush's music appeals to all generations, says Thomas W. Stephenson, general secretary of the 350th. Ticket demand has been strong from the older classes as well as Rush's contemporaries and juniors. "God willing, if it's a beautiful night and the stars are out, this concert really could be something," says Whisnant. Success came early to Tom Rush, then wandered off and was won back.

Tom Rush '63, folk singer and impresario: Biology's loss was the oral tradition's gain. In the past five years he has thoughtfully engineered a return from semiretirement to a new kind of role in acoustic music. Besides reviving his own performing career, Rush has sought broader ways to support the folk tradition, reflecting an interest that goes back all the way to his undergraduate years. Rush came to Harvard intending to be a biologist but found Bio 1 "a numbing experience." It was more fun to "study folk stuff' by shopping around from department to department. He cites Professor Albert Lord's comparative literature courses on the oral tradition as "probably the most important part of my experience at Harvard," along with selected offerings in English literature, music, comparative religion, and anthropology (a primate social behavior course that "I somehow perceived as being related to the oral tradition"). "Tom was very interested in learning

about ballads and about the way in which the oral tradition worked," Lord recalls. "He did a paper for me on the blues." A decade later, when Rush had become well known, Lord invited him to participate in his popular Humanities 9 course. "He was very good with the students. He didn't lecture, but he talked to them, which is better. He has a very fine New England wit, which went over big with the students." And he sang to them too. Rush's first ventures into public performance grew out of his WHRB live music show, "Balladeers." When folk singers like Josh White and Odetta came to Boston, he would invite them to come on the air with him. "So I got to sit around with some legendary people and embarrass myself by not knowing what to say. My nickname was 'Dead Air.' " He also recruited local amateurs. "To get warm bodies to appear on the show I had to haunt the folk clubs and the coffee houses. I'd go down to the hootenannics and look for people who could be seduced into coming on the radio with me, and ended up performing on some occasions myself. One thing led to another. . . . " A year's leave of absence confirmed Rush in his sense that the former future biologist might really be a musician. Nevertheless a "New England sense of tidiness" brought him back to finish up his degree before moving on to a successful career in performing and recording. One of the highlights was a 1968 Elektra album called " T h e Circle Game," which introduced works by then little-known songwriters Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne, and James Taylor. There followed a contract with Columbia Records, five virtually nonstop years on the road as a performer, and the inevitable burnout. In the mid 1970s Rush gave it all up and retreated to his form in New Hampshire. T h e bucolic idyll has its own limitations, and before long Rush was contemplating a return to music. He has made his comeback in a manner of his own choosing, however, limiting himself to about forty performances a year and devoting much of his energy to the broader goal of rebuilding an audience for folk music. Through his company, Maple Hill Productions Inc., Rush has been developing new kinds of acoustic SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


music events and offering representation and long-term career guidance to other folk artists. He enjoys his new role as an impresario of sorts. "It's something wc seem to he good at. And it's exciting for me. It also gives me something I can do when I'm 95 years old and may not want to travel." To operate in this larger arena, Rush has had to learn to think like a businessman, forgoing the convenient division of labor (and identity) between artist and manager. Throwing image to the winds, he has signed up for sales seminars, conducted market research, and built direct mail lists. In this process he has been advised by Harvard Business School professor Michael Porter and David Syfces of Boston University; a former entrepreneur. "Tom tried to make a comeback at a time when there was a mismatch between his kind of music and the way the record industry was going," Porter says. His first problem was "to understand who his customers were and how to reach them with his music." Surveys convinced Rush and his advisers to seek new venues for performance, beginning with cruises in Boston Harbor and moving on to concert halls. "My audience likes to go to Symphony Hall instead of a rock club," Rush says. "I can definitely live with that." He also suspects that his audience might just as soon buy records through the mail as venture into a typical record store peopled by life-sized paper cutouts of rock stars. Rush has released his last two records on his own Night Light label, which he sells primarily through the mail, and he plans to begin recording other artists soon. "There are certain economies of scale in having a whole list of records as opposed to just his own," Porter observes. Ironically, Rush's success may remove the need for his unconventional approach to distribution. "Acoustic music is getting more and more recognition," Porter notes, and now "the mainstream industry is somewhat ponderously moving more in the direction of what Tom has been trying to do. In the long term, the question is whether Tom needs to have his own company or whether he can fold his activities back into the mainstream record industry- and simply become a manager, producer, 202


writer, and performer as opposed to a distributor." David Sykcs first encountered Rush in 1963, "when he was a big star in Cambridge and I was an aspiring folkie." When they met again in the early Eighties, Sykcs had sold his manufacturing business and was teaching at B.U. and "doing a lot of work in the arts." Like Rush, he wants to keep acoustic music alive and healthy. As he sees it, that means making Tom Rush into an organization. "Institutions take on the character of the people running them, and he's a very good person to build one around. Most of the things we've tried have worked, largely because he's who he is—not because of

"My audience likes to go to Symphony Hall instead of a rock club," Rush says. "I can definitely live with that."

his reputation but because people who've met him know they can trust him." As a board member of several arts organizations, Sykcs takes a hard-headed view of what is necessary to keep the arts alive. Inevitably, "an institution stands between the artist and the audience." A ballet company, a museum, a broadcast series like "Prairie Home Companion"—"those things require sponsorship and support in order to create the medium for the artist." Because "old-style philanthropy is really leveling off," Sykes sees a need to "build a constituency in the business community and among other people who have money to bring to it." Significant support may come from the new corporate interest in "cause-related marketing," which Rush describes as "a hybrid between philanthropy and advertising." Maple Hill is currently seeking corporate sponsorship for a Club 47 series of monthly National Public Radio broadcasts and a Public Broadcasting System television show to be based on concerts given around the country over the next year. "Folk Singer Seeks Ven-

ture Capitalist," Rush jokes. More seriously, he continues, "The Club 47 broadcast project could have a major effect on developing an entire art form in the country, encouraging the artists, organizing the audience, and giving a focus to what is at the moment a large but very diffuse movement." Sixties sentimentalists may wince at hearing terms like "cash flow" on the lips of a folkie. "David [Sykes] advises me that it's very difficult in America to have credibility both as an artist and as a buinessman," says Rush. "If you're a businessman, you have to be an artist on the sly, using a nom de plume. Likewise if you're an artist you're supposed to be helpless and scatter-brained. 1 haven't worried too much about it, frankly. I'm just trying to serve up the music in surroundings that arc appealing to the audience for that music." Though he claims no altruistic motivation for his work, his brand of commercialism is far from crass, and his efforts to develop his own market are likely to benefit other musicians as well. One of Rush's more ambitious goals is to win recognition of folk music as a legitimate art, rather than "pop ephemera." Such a change in perception could make it easier for folk artists to maintain stable long-term careers, as is possible for classical musicians. "One of the biggest problems for folk music is that it became pop music back in the Sixties. Now people are apt to think of it as passe pop music." In fact, Rush argues, "folk music and its derivatives—secondgeneration people like myself—are a native art form with a very long history. If Professor Lord is to be believed, it goes back for thousands of vears." T h e Tom Rush of Maple Hill is following a pattern familiar in other fields. T h e expertise of outstanding dancers, musicians, scientists, and athletes goes further if it is shared with other practitioners and institutionalized in larger scale endeavors. As Rush says, "There's a need that I can fill better by running Maple Hill than by singing on a stage somewhere, and that is to try to connect art and artists with their audience. I've found a method that works for me extremely well." That same vehicle can work for others. "I've built a bus," he says, "and it is silly for it to have only one passenger. —Nancy Jackson


Still Smiling After Fifteen Years When he became Harvard's twentyfifth president, Derek Bok supposed he'd return to the Law School in ten years or so. In October he completes his fifteenth year in office, and his hearty laugh and relaxed mannner suggest that he continues to enjoy his work. At 56, Bok maintains the athletic carriage he had as dean of the Law School, when he used to go elbow-to-elbow with students in the school's intramural basketball leagues. (These days he plays serious weekend tennis to keep in shape.) His face is no longer boyish, as it was when he accepted the presidency, and his dark hairâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;just going gray at the temples thenâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;has turned a distinguished silver. But friends and colleagues agree that time has dealt kindly with Derek Bok. He's the senior man among Ivy League college presidents (the average length of service for the other seven is about seven years). i'.S. News and World Report surveys have rated him as the most respected figure in American higher education. In 1982 he published his first book on educational issues, Beyond the Ivory Tower: Social Responsibilities of the Modern University. In October, Harvard University Press will publish his second, Higher Learning. Bok's presidency, says one observer, has been a period of "reorientation, stabilization, feminization, and internationalization." Systematically scrutinizing Harvard's graduate schools, Bok encouraged some to redefine their roles and objectives. He assisted in smoothing over political rifts within faculties. Completion of the $358-million Harvard Campaign, and the successes of an in-house investment staff set up in 1974, have helped refinance Harvard, pushing its endowment beyond $3 billion. At many levels of the University, women have reached positions of equality. Demographically, the student and

alumni bodies have become more diverse and increasingly international. In a talk with HarvardMagazine. Bok discussed his presidency and some of the trends he thinks may affect Harvard's future. Among the latter are four broad societal movements outlined in his Commencement report to the alumni: "The rapid growth and accumulation of knowledge and information; the persistence of severe domestic problems that are difficult to resolve, and the increasing role of government in addressing them; the changing international role of the country, and its involvement with other countries; and the erosion of a common system of values." Says Bok: "These developments, without stretching the analysis too far, can be said to

account for almost all the significant educational changes in recent years." How will these trends affect Harvard as an institution? Rapid changes in bodies of knowledge require us to think more about continuing education at later points in people's careers. We have to stop thinking of continuing education as an addon to be tucked into the University's nooks and crannies in the nights, weekends, and summers. We'll need to rethink systematically how we can best distribute educational offerings over a lifetime. Another response to the growing mass of knowledge involves new technology. I don't think it's going to revolu-

President Bok receiving greetings at this year's Commencement. SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


tionize traditional methods of education in the next generation, but it will supplement them in significant and imaginative ways. Within faculties—not just at Harvard, but everywhere—there's perhaps an unconscious effort not to think systematically about the ways technology can improve the process of learning. Eventually that will give way. Your concern with domestic problems and governmental responses implies a larger role for schools of government. It does. We're currently doing what we can to stimulate programs of public service that confront students with intensely human predicaments. By making such programs seem as important as they surely are, we hope to get students to take seriously their obligation to help others. Is internationalism going to change Harvard's constituency? Well, one dimension of a diverse class obviously ought to be students from other countries. We've been somewhat limited in the numbers we can take, not because they are hard to find, but because it is quite expensive to have them here. One has a vision of a Harvard where all the international students must be children of industrialists and royalty, so that funds are no object, but if anything a higher proportion are on financial aid than for the student body as a whole. What is remarkable about our cohort of foreign students, which in the College is now several hundred, is the degree to which t h e y ' v e i n t e g r a t e d themselves into the life of the University. Our surveys show they do a bit better academically, arc a bit more involved in extracurricular activities, and value their Harvard experience a bit more than the rest of the students. That's heartening, because many might be expected to have language or cultural difficulties. And since you learn from your fellow students, their presence gives our domestic students valuable preparation for what I hope will be an increasingly international existence. As it's more widely perceived that American universities arc the best institutions of their kind in the world, and as more people in other countries gain the resources to look worldwide for their 204


children's education, I think we'll see more applications from abroad. And at some point it will be asked of Harvard, what kind of institution is this? A taxpayer may raise that question, because tax subsidies are involved. T h e alumni may raise it. Everyone will concede that there should be some number of foreign students, but at a certain point . . . Nationwide, 50 percent of the Ph.D. candidates in engineering and computer sciences are foreign students. We have departments at Harvard in which the proportion is over a third. That hasn't happened in the College, but it could. What about values? Ethics courses have been a special interest of yours. This is treacherous territory—and 1 think, frankly, one in which education at the university level can make only a limited contribution. But since I don't see many other contributions around, the most important thing I think we can do is provide courses in moral reasoning in the undergraduate curriculum, and in professional ethics at the professional schools. We're also creating a Program in Professional Ethics to train people to teach such courses. Almost all faculties of the University now regard ethical studies as a significant part of the curriculum; what is disheartening is how hard the faculties have to scramble to find anyone to teach the courses. As the Ivy l e a g u e ' s senior college president— [laughing] Terrible, yes, I've outlasted them all. — d o you feci obliged to speak out more, on a wider variety of issues? Well, I cling to the view that one should speak out on issues relating to education, and anything Harvard is involved in. I don't think 1 would do Harvard or myself any good by leaping into issues I don't know much about. If you look at Harvard presidents who have spoken on things outside of education, it's not a distinguished record of positions taken. There's a warning there, at least for lesser mortals like myself. In your Baccalaureate address to this year's seniors, you warned against neo-isolationism. Weren't you going beyond educational issues? Baccalaureate is a special occasion where you try to talk about something

in the outside world that students are going to encounter, and express your hopes for what they might do. It seems to me that internationalism has been a special responsibility of the kinds of people who graduate from Harvard, and that as a country we can't expect to go it alone very long and either prosper ourselves or help the rest of the world prosper. My words weren't directed to people in Washington but to our own students, with the hope that they would go against the prevailing tide. This summer you also testified in favor of sanctions against South Africa. Yes, as a private citizen. During the divestment controversy at Harvard, we've made an effort to lift the debate above the emotional and instinctual level and make it an educational event rather than a political distraction. I still think the quality of the debate leaves a lot to be desired, quite apart from whether you agree or disagree with the institution's position. At any rate, I felt a sense of inadequacy at just developing arguments explaining why one couldn't tespond as requested to what was obviously a terrible injustice. That's partly why, as an individual, I wanted to help as much as I could on sanctions legislation.


his is your 35th anniversary as a m e m b e r of the Harvard community as well as your 15th as president. Your decision to enroll at the I^aw School had farreaching consequences. Was there anything iffy about it? Oh, yes. I never intended to come. In the late fall of my senior year at Stanford I decided to go to law school. I informed my mother, who asked the natural question, "Where do you want to go?" To which I gave the natural answer, "Stanford, of course." She then told me that since I was over 21 the choice was mine, but if I were looking to her for financial assistance, she thought it would be wise to choose a university in another part of the country, because experiencing a different institution would be e d u c a t i o n a l l y valuable. And she really thought I should go back east. Most people I knew didn't know much about eastern law schools. But 1

JOHN HARVARD'S JOURNAL was the chief proctor for the huge dormitory where all the freshman males lived, and upstairs was a graduate resident adviser, a law student named Rchnquist. He was the only law student I knew, and 1 was vaguely aware that he'd been hack cast. |William II. Rchnquist took a master's degree at Harvard in 1950.] So I talked to Rchnquist. "Well," he said, "if you want to go back east, go to Harvard, because you'll never have to waste any time explaining to other people why you chose it." That wasn't a terribly good reason, but it was the only reason I had, so I applied. Were you glad you did!-' I almost left halfway through my first year. I was working vety hard, but, according to the practice exams, doing rather badly. It made me wonder whether I should persist, but I decided the only proper thing to do was apply

understood and never inquired into too deeply. After that, I think the rest of my time at Harvard Law School was assured, though I certainly didn't intend to come back here to teach. How did that come about? That was the responsibility of Kingman Brewster more than anyone else. He came to call when 1 was in Washington in the army, and invited himself to dinner. He extolled the virtues of the academic life. Since I've always found Kingman irresistible. 1 decided maybe that was what 1 wanted to do after all. It was Kingman who taught me the subject I taught when I came back to the Law School—antitrust. And in my first class were | Massachusetts governor] Mike Dukakis and [SupremeCourt justice-designate | Antonin Scalia. When you moved into the president's

the late Sixties, and the plateauing or decline of federal funds. Inflation put more stress on the financial health of the institution. T h e heightened sensitivities and concerns of the Cambridge community were dramatized by the grand disruption of Commencement in 1970. And within the University, gaining consensus became much more complicated after the protests. Things changed with great suddenness—emphasized by a Carnegie Foundation study in which Harvard was one of several universities singled out as heading for trouble financially. With David Robinson, who was loaned to us by the Foundation, I spent the months before I took office working out the basic scheme we have today—the four vice presidents plus a general counsel. There's been a little trading around with jobs at the margin, but by and large that staicture has remained intact. You'd been expected to appoint a provost, but you didn't. No. Partly because of a desire not to bureaucratizc Harvard any more than circumstances required. And because what really interests me, and always has, is educational issues. A provost would do the academic things that arc my chief interest, and I would primarily be an outside representative of the University. That's not a role I see myself in.

After the president's installation, October II. 1971. EscortingBok an daughters Victoria (left) a ml Hilary: his wife. Sissela: andUs mother. Mis. 11 llliam Kiskai/drn. I Irtoria. now 24. is in her second year at the Kennedy School of Government: Hilary, 26. is a third-year Harvard graduate student in philosophy (the subject. Mrs. link !t aches at Brandos University). the links' third child, Yo/uas, was a toddler in 1911: now 17. fie graduatedfrom Andover in June and plans to explore Australia this winter. myself till the end of the year. At that point 1 decided to get as far away from legal studies as I could, so I went to India and worked in the villages, saw New Delhi, and traveled a good deal. I remember receiving my Law School grades during a torrential downpour in Bombay. 1 had been wondering whether I'd done so badly that 1 would be asked to withdraw. Instead 1 did extremely well, for reasons I never quite

office in 1971, what struck you as the biggest challenge? T h e overriding problem was that Harvard was extremely underadministered. It had grown enormously in the preceding generation and was suddenly confronted with a set of problems that were somewhat obscured in the excitement of student protests—things like the growth of government regulation, which was virtually nonexistent until

Over the years you've produced a daunting series of annual reports discussing the quality and direction of graduate and professional training in arts and sciences, business, law, medicine, and public service, and assessing the place of the university in society. That's one thing I think is very important for someone in my position to do. There are sequences of questions, fundamental ones, that every professional school ought to face. Who out there in the profession arc you really trying to educate? What professional roles arc you preparing people to fill? These may seem obvious questions, but when I initially posed them, over half the faculties—particularly smaller faculties—did not have answers. Once you've figured them out, you can ask the next questions—what kind of curriculum is best, what kind of faculty do you need, what kind of student? And



then your school begins to have a consistent set of answers, not that there shouldn't be some loose play in the joints, some experimentation. But at least the core has internal coherence. At the outset I realized these were not questions that solved themselves through some invisible hand. And I couldn't solve them myself. That's not my function. T h e faculty7 and the dean have to join in doing that. But what I could do is make sure those questions are on the agenda and that it's sufficiently embarrassing not to have answers. I've used the annual reports to help set agendas. They also reflect a process of self-education. I enjoy studying a subject systematically, and the reports are a way of learning about the University, seeing things in a larger framework and trying to discern where the significant activities lie, so I can work harder at them and not get lost in detail. Another problem you addressed early on was the polarization of the faculty. There I was fortunate in the choice of key people, especially Henry Rosovsky [dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences from 1973 to 1984]. He and I both felt the best way to deal with those problems was to be very patient, very open. There was a feeling that people were being shut out, didn't know what was going on. Much of that was exaggerated, but an equally exaggerated effort was required to overcome it. I think the Faculty Council helped a great deal. It changes your perspective as a faculty member to be in on the decision-making process. You see that many things are more complicated and difficult than you thought. Once the faculty gets factionalized, with parties, that's bad. There shouldn't be stable political differences about how we approach a c a d e m i c issues. It wouldn't be Harvard if you didn't have disagreement on significant questions, but you hope the line-ups arc continuously changing. It's almost taken for granted now, but the closer relationship with Kadcliffe was another early development. Yes, it's easy to forget how different it was fifteen years ago. There was a fourto-onc ratio when I came in. It was not a product of discrimination, but of the fact that Radcliffc dorms had room for 206


only 20 percent of our student body. Brothers and sisters in the same family had different financial aid because there were separate admissions offices. Women didn't have equal access to athletic facilities. There were other activities, prizes, and fellowships to which they didn't have access. I think today it's a genuinely coeducational institution with

.'1 /////// who has Bon) many hats: President Boh at a Harvard picnic for senior citizens, 1979. equal opportunities for all, but for the first ten years it took a lot of time. Another important part of the feminization of Harvard is that the proportion of administrators who arc women is now well over 40 percent. And at least 25 to 30 percent of the recent tenure appointments in Arts and Sciences are women. I'm sure it will continue so, though it will take time to change the face of Arts and Sciences because turnover is so low. It's a far-reaching change. It is. T h e tendency is to think of it too much in terms of affirmative action.

women's rights, and to fail to recognize that it represents the greatest influx of new talent to the University that has occurred in this generation. It's been a very' good thing for Harvard. We've gone through fifteen years in which the average board scores of students across the country have fallen significantly. Ivy League tuitions have risen more than the norms, the number of college-age students has declined. All very negative factors, yet we have held our own or improved the student body in almost ever>r dimension. We have 30 percent more Merit scholars, we have the same number of applications, board scores are the same, or if anything a little better at the low end of the class. If you ask why all that happened against the trend, one reason was that we were able to reach out to qualified men W women. What about the diversity of the student body, beyond gender? That we made offers last year to at least 25 percent of prospective freshmen in what the Labor Department defines as minority groups is a striking illustration. Clearly that will continue, with the most dramatic increases involving Hispanic groups. Harvard has been relatively more attractive to the most academically talented minorities. Somewhere around 25 to 30 percent of white students with hoard scores over 700 apply to Harvard, but the proportion is over 40 percent for black students and 65 percent for AsianAmericans. We've achieved diversity without sacrificing academic standards. I think the alumni now understand that. I used to get a lot of questions about it. I always thought it curious that I never got the same intensity of questioning about our budget for football. Let's look briefly' at Harvard's physical plant. In recent years the big spending hasn't been for new buildings, but to fix up existing ones. That's right. We've learned that we can't go on doing what we used to doâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; put up a building, let it decay, then go out and raise enough money to renovate it. What some hard-nosed alumni have been saying for a long time is true, that you have to find ways of building into our normal operating budget the costs of maintaining the plant. We've now done a detailed study to get a notion of

JOHN HARVARD'S JOURNAL what we should be spending each year to keep up all our buildings. T h e really certifying figure that emerges is on the order of $60 million. You can't do that every year. But if over the years you spend considerably less, it's likely to cause a deferred maintenance problem that will cost even more to fix. What was the former level of spending for maintenance? Half that, or less. In the Seventies— because of reduced government support, inflation, the slide in the stock market—all of higher education indulged in massive deferred maintenance. It is having to catch up in the Eighties. What about the Harvard landscape? It's been a particular interest of yours. Well, I grew up as the youngest child in a family that lived in a vacant canyon in southern California, where we tried to create an oasis in the unyielding desert. That left a lasting impression on me chat one should pay attention to one's physical surroundings, that lasting pleasure could be derived therefrom. So we've been working slowly, with modest resources, to make the campus look beccer. It was pretty battered after the student demonstrations. T h e more crowded and noisy a cicy is, die more imporcanc it is to have a place of repose to which contemplative people can repair. Over the next ten or fifteen years I hope that process will continue around Harvard Square, retaining all the charm and vitality, but replacing some of the tackier parts wich something that has some grace and beauty. This is the only tangible thing I do. Everything else relies on hope and expresses itself in qualitative ways that arc subject to interpretation. But when you take a piece of ground and create something beautiful there . . . It's probably a response to some deep need to reassure myself that something has gotten better during my administration.


n the years ahead, do you see Harvard's population growing? During my first year in office I read a lot on how large you have to be to mount a full array of academic programs. T h e conventional wisdom was that you needed about 6,000 students. The upper limit was 15,000

students; beyond that you'd run into diminishing returns and begin to incur the inevitable drawbacks of bureaucratization. When I came in I took steps to prevent further increases, because Harvard had grown by four or five thousand students in the last decade alone, and none of that was done by big, dramaticdecisions. We didn't start any new schools. It was just add a few here, add a few there. That was also a convenient way of balancing the budget—an illusory way, but in the short run, very tempting. So we clamped down. T h e total may have gone up by two or three hundred, but we kept it more or less stable. I see no reason to change that. We live in a crowded community. Housing isn't easy to come by. I see a lot of disadvancages to adding people. I see few advantages. In the nontraditional programs, we have many more people coming in the summer ami in the Extension School, reflecting the great upswing in interest in continuing education. But that seems to be something we can handle without creating problems. What about your own future plans? I live from day to day. My house is on a month-to-month lease. People keep speculating . . . That's right. Someone said to me yesterday, "People have rumored your imminent departure since the first year you were in office." Are there programs or innovations you'd still like to see initiated? President Lowell said you should never disclose what you want to do, or immediately the battle lines begin forming. Really, I'm not very good at introducing dramatic new programs. I think universities develop best when they move slowly and consistently, so that only after fifteen or twenty years can you look back and see chat it's a lot different in a number of ways. Beyond that it's important to remember that the quality of Harvard depends more than anything else on the quality of its faculcy. So we muse work continually at making Harvard an attractive place, and try to make each department and each appointment as good as we possibly can. If we manage that, we'll have a huge number of individ-

uals, autonomous scholars, out there looking and testing for interesting new things to do, and the creative growth of the University will in large part take care of itself. Are you satisfied with the present appointments process? 1 think universities, and Harvard in particular, stand up very well to any institution in the care they devote to finding the right person to put in a job. I think wc fall down in taking responsibility for helping people develop once they're here. There are reasons for that. T h e principle of academic freedom makes one wary about interfering with the way a professor goes about his work. On the other hand, there are lots of things you can do—especially for younger faculty—to help develop their talents, to encourage them to think more boldly, with a longer time frame, about their own aspirations. One strategic judgment I've made, at lease for Arcs and Sciences, is chac we should greacly increase ourefforcs co develop people from wichin. About M) percent of tenure appointments are now from within. If we could move that to 40, 45, even 50 percent, I think it would serve Harvard well. We'd be sure of having people here ac the heighc of their creative powers, reducing the risk of having a distinguished faculty made up of people who did their best work elsewhere. You know, when the process of aging and decline sets in, a department has a hard time reversing it. You can do ic. Harvard's reputation and che quality of die scudencs are scill greac assccs. But it's a lot harder. Whereas if you look at

strong departments—particularly if they've appointed people at their height, in their forties—you get momentum, and good people almost appear of their own accord. So success does perpetuate success, which is one of the reasons for this remarkable thing we should be thinking about during Harvard's anniversary—that Harvard, after 350 years, is still up there battling, still trying to achieve the highest level of quality. In most other walks of life, institutions come and go. Institutions that seem to be doing very well in one generation decline in the next. That's not true of universities. Q SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1986


Football: A Birthday Surprise? Will this years football team add a fillip to Harvard's 350th by confecting a winning season? Quite possibly. By copping the Ivy League championship? Not easily, but in the supercharged habitat of Greater Boston sporting life—which somehow propels the Patriots to the Super Bowl, the Celtics to yet another NBA title, and the Red Sox to first place in the American League East (at this writing)—a November apotheosis for Joe Restic's Athenian swains is at least a colorable midsummer night's dream. To make it come true, Restic must take a clutch of untried players and hang a pearl in even' cowslip's ear. Only seven starters (five on offense, two on defense) return from last year's comefrom-behind team, which ended the season with an Ivy record of 5-2 and second place in the League. White, a nimble spirit at quarterback for more than two seasons, has moved on, and no proven stand-in is on hand to replace him. Restic must find some tawny Tartars to man a depleted offensive line, and a kicker who can foot it as featly as Steinberg, an All-Ivy selection. Defensively, all four starters were lost from a ferocious secondary that confuted opponents with eighteen interceptions. Restic's merrier hours will be spent contemplating the defensive depth he enjoys nearer the line of scrimmage, and the able performers available at the offensive skill positions. Captain-elect Scott Collins, who was credited with 53 tackles and 13 assists at linebacker last season, will lead the defense. The offensive line will be built around Murray and Watson, who last year started every game at center and guard respectively. The offensive backfield will not be the same without Santiago, a devastating runner and puissant pass-catcher; but Sorbara, Jones, Pusateri, Denson, and O'Neil should furnish a respectable mix of speed and power. Tested receivers 208


Defensive stalwart: Linebacker Scott Collins (50), this year's captain, pressuring Cornell's Sta include Morris at tight end and split ends Connolly and Greer. The latter, a Robin Goodfellow type if there ever was one, caught 13 passes for 214 yards and ran back 11 kickoffs for 202 yards before being felled by a late-season knee injury. If he returns to his old hobgoblin form, he will bemuse his adversaries (and beguile Crimson partisans) no end. This may be one of those seasons in which the quarterbacking assignment remains open until (or even beyond) the initial game. The applicant group in• • H

What revels are in hand depend greatly on finding a reliable quarterback. eludes Koehler, Landau, and O'Connell, all seniors, and Boyda, a junior. None has a track record in varsity-level competition. What revels are in hand depend greatly on finding a reliable quarterback. Last year's team decisively vanquished Penn, the defending Ivy champion, but was divested of its title hopes in a 17-6 loss to a hard-handed Yale

bunch in New Haven. Having shared the co-championship of the league in 1983, Harvard has finished in second place two years running. Last year's overall record of 7-3 boosted Restic's career victory total to 84, a new record for Harvard football coaches. Let's have the tongs and the bones if the magus breaks ninety this season.

OUTLOOK FOR OTHER SPORTS Women's cross-country can hardly improve on the 1985 campaign, when the team went undefeated in five regular meets and won its fifth consecutive Heptagonal championship. Four of the top five runners graduated, however, including All-American Jenny Strieker. Coach Ed Sheehan will welcome an unusually large and accomplished crop of freshmen, who may provide the wherewithal for a sixth straight Heps title. Sheehan expects his men's squad (2-3 and eighth in the Heps) to improve, if only because of the return of world junior marathon record-holder Paul Gompcrs '87 after a year of running off the college circuit. The pack he'll lead, composed mostly of freshmen and sophomores, is at best a year away from a run for top honors in the Heps. With eight letter-winners back, the field hockey team should do better


FOOTBALL: SCOUTING THE OPPOSITION Columbia (0-10), September 20. Lion seniors will be playing for their third varsity coach in as many seasons, as Larry McElrcavy replaces volatile Jim Garrett. On paper Columbia doesn't look quite as hopeless as it has in the past. The top three rushers, two starting linebackers, and three starting defensive backs return, as well as a couple of talented receivers. Columbia still needs, among other things, a quarterback. The Lions have lost their last 21 games; Harvard has won six straight openers against Columbia. Holy Cross (4-6-1), September 27. Last year was traumatic for the football forces in Worcester. The Crusaders started out 3-1 before everything fell apartâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;particularly a 20-7 lead over Harvard (the Crimson won, 28-20). Under a new coach, Mark Duffner, the Cross will try to pull its program back up to where it was a couple of years ago. Good linebackers and Wiley, the quarterback, arc the positives; losing all-everything running back Gill Fenerty is a big negative. Harvard coach Joe Restic is 5-3-1 versus Holy Cross, which is tougher to play early on in the season. William & Mary (7-4), October 4, at Williamsburg. With the graduation of Yagiello, an outstanding quarterback, the Tribe's passing game may be slowed a little, but demons, an ellin running back, is on hand for another year. He had 91 yards on 10 carries in last year's muddy win over Harvard at the Stadium. W&iVl only lost two defensive starters, so this will be a stiff test. Cornell (3-7), October 11. If the Big Red can shake off the early-season woes that have plagued it for the past few years, an Ivy championship is not out of the realm of possibility7. Stallone, who manufactured a number of stirring comebacks last year as a sophomore, is the likely signal-caller. He'll have a couple of good receivers (as is always the case in Ithaca), and Johnson, the fullback, could be one of the league's best. Ten starters are back on defense; all four return in the secondary, so everyone will have trouble passing on the Red. Dartmouth (2-7-1), October 18, at Hanover. With Torain (432 yards) and Dufresne (217) back, Dartmouth appears to have a solid rushing game. With the return of Gabianelli (1150 yards, only four interceptions) at quarterback, the passing should be above average as well. But with no (0) starting offensive linemen back, the Big Green offense is still questionable. This game will be decided on the line of scrimmage, and if Dartmouth manages to find some people to keep the pressure off the backfield, it could be closer than it should be. Lately this has been a streaky series. Harvard won five straight from 1974 to 1978. Dartmouth won the next five. Harvard ha.s now won two in a row. Restic is 3-2 in Hanover. Princeton (5-5), October 25, at Princeton. Last year this game was the one that got away. Thankfully, a brand-new Harvard defensive backfield won't have to arm itself against Butler, who broke all the Princeton passing records last year, but the rest of the defense will have to stop a pair of underrated ball carriers in Fitchett (229 yards) and Foster (174). The two also combined for 30 receptions. Princeton loses twothirds of its starters and has holes in both lines. Still, this

should be another low-scoring affair, like last year's 11-6 pitcher's duel. Harvard is 3-3-2 versus Princeton since 1978. Brown (5-4-1), November 1. This team probably should have won the Ivy League title last year; its four Ivy wins were shutouts. Five starters from that defense are back, and most of them are in the secondary. Among the missing for coach John Rosenberg (Harvard '67) are Potkul, Brown's all-time leading rusher, and defensive stalwarts Catena, Moskala, and McCormack. Still, few people are going to pass on the Bruins, and games will probably be low-scoring. Brown has good offensive linemen, and Simone (269 yards last year) figures to be the one carrying the ball most often behind them. Where the ever-dangerous Keiron Bigby will play (quarterback? wide receiver?) is anyone's guess. Massachusetts (7-4), November 8. This is a tough game to play right before Penn and Yale. UMass has a number of outstanding people returning, including Palazzi, the quarterback, and McKeown, a linebacker. Ncri, a bruising 6-2, 225pound fullback, returns after leading the Minutemen in rushing last season. Always a physical game, this will be a big test for Harvard's linemen. Last season, they held off the much bigger Minutemen in a 10-3 win. This year they'll have to do the same. Since the Ivy League adopted the 10-game schedule (1980), Harvard is 4-0-1 in nonlcague games played on the final three weekends. Pennsylvania (7-2-1), November 15, at Philadelphia. Harvard played its best game of the season against the Quakers last year, winning 17-6, but Penn still managed its second outright Ivy crown. No team has ever won it outright three years running. The Quaker offense, under new coach Ed Zubrow, should be explosive again, as Crocicchia, the quarterback, Comizio, a strong running back, Saunders, the wide receiver, and Novosclsky, the tight end, are all back. Penn also has three starting linemen returning, so on paper it is again the team to beat. Defensively, the Red and Blue will have some work to do; much has been lost, including Gilmore, the Ivy Player of the Year. Jerry Berndt was Pcnn's head coach for the past five years, leading the Quakers to Ivy titles in the last four, and Harvard was the only Ivy school against which he did not have a winning record (2-3). Yale (4-4-1), November 20. Y'ou get the sense that Yale is a bomb waiting to explode. Freshman teams of the past few years have been very good, so this could be a pivotal year for the Elis. Sophomore Kelly Ryan engineered a couple of big comebacks at quarterback in 1985, and as a junior figures to be the starter. Macauley, the leading rusher (550 yards, four touchdowns) returns. I le's a dangerous receiver (20 catches, three touchdowns) who will be the focus of every Ivy defense. Five starters return on offense and four on defense, so Crimson nemesis Carm Cozza has a solid nucleus with which to work. Yale has not won the Ivy title since 1981. Cozza has never gone five years without at least a piece of the Ivy crown. Harvard has beaten Yale in each of Restic's four Ivy championship seasons. Harvard is 2-6-1 in the years Cozza has won at least a share. â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Ed' Markcy



than last years squad (3-8-4, tied for second in Ivy play). Its forte will be backfield and defense, built around cocaptains Barresi and Pylc, (jroome, and sophomore goalie Katsias, but Coach Nita Lamborghini will have to develop more firepower up frontâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a chronic problem area last season. Jape Sbattuck, coach of the men's soccer team (8-6-1 last season), says he's gunning for the "upper echelons" in this year's Ivy and New England standings, 'lb get there he must find

someone to fill the shoes of the departed Ian Hardington, a first-rate defensive stopper in seasons past. Sophomore goalkeeper Stephen Hall was injured much of last season but allowed only one goal in 154 minutes of play; he may be the best in the Ivy League at his position. Attackers Rajballie, Singh, and captain Paul Nicholas are the most able of the returning regulars. Welch, a midfielder, will be welcomed back after a season's absence. The women's team (5-8-3) was shut out ten times last vcar;

if coach Bob Scalise can develop some scoring ability, the team's prospects will improve. Co-captains Karin Pinczich and Wendy Zecben should supply some punch, but Dawson, a sophomore, may be the teams best offensive asset. Junior Tracee Whitley, who allowed only sixteen goals last season, is regarded as the finest keeper in the history of women's soccer at Harvard. A probable AllAmerica candidate, she should keep the team in contention through thick and thin.



The 1882 track team. Intercollegiate titlists.

The 1886 football team, which won 12 and lost 2, outscoring opponents 165-41. Harvards crew in international competition, 1869. Oxford won by dure lengths on the Thames: half a million were said In hair watched.

WITH CRIMSON IN TRIUMPH FLASHING . . . American college athletics began when I larvard met (and defeated) Yale in an 1852 crew race, and for the next seventy years 1 larvard was the most influential force in intercollegiate competition. Although the Colleges athletic chronicles cover only the last twofifths of Harvard's .ISO-year history, they're replete with landmark events: the first Anglo-American sports contest (above), the first college football game (1874), the first college hockey game (18%), the first American Olympic medalists (18%). the inception of Davis Cup tennis (1900), the introduction of field hockey to America (1901), and the construction of Harvard Stadium, America's first large sports arena (1903). Today the department of athletics oversees 41 men's and women's teams in cross-country, football, soccer, basketball, fencing, hockey, skiing, squash, swimming, track, volleyball, water polo, wrestling, baseball, crew, golf, lacrosse, sailing, softball, and tennis.



Stalwarts of the 1900 Radcliffe basketball team, on the steps of the gym.


Wilder at Centre Court Tennis was definitely a love game, declares Amos Niven Wilder, I lollis professor of divinity emeritus, who this year—at ninety—became the oldest survivor of Wimbledon's Centre Court. Harvard's New Testament scholar recalls that in 1922, when he was reading theology at Oxford, he and his British partner, Charles Kingslcy, went down in four sets to the winning Australian team of Lycett and Anderson (6-2, 2-6, 6-1, 9-7). For Wilder (the older brother of Thornton, the late playwright and novelist). Centre Court held the thrill of "going on stage before I had learned to act. Wimbledon is the Mecca, the holy place, the one place in the world for tennis. There is no such one place in any other sport, the spot where it all began." Wilder reminisces that in his day tennis was strictly an amateur sport. Players were invited to participate in tournaments cither because they were very good college players (as a Vale senior. Wilder was national intercollegiate doubles champion with Lee Wiley) or because the social committees believed they would be good house guests (tennis took Wilder to several of Newport's famous cottages, including the Breakers, Commodore Vanderbilt's country place). Wimbledon champ Boris Becker's reputed $30 million from sportswear manufacturer Puma contrasts markedly with the small fee that Vincent Richards, Bill Tildcn's partner, got from a local newspaper for writing up a tournament—but Richards received a cautionary note from the National Tennis Association. "Players played for the love of the game and spectators came for the same reason—they appreciated the game's fine points," says Wilder. "Now I hope the big money that players earn doesn't take away the enjoyment of the game." On this the one hundredth anniversary year of play at Wimbledon, Wilder shares his boyhood memories of learning tennis on the public courts in



«>"•/•" 7/S",* Cu+y

iu*»v*~ u


Wilder in the early twenties, rind sonic of/lis soda/ engagements. Berkeley, California, in what he calls "the California nursery." "We had no coaches; we played on our own," the Congregational minister points out. "The entire experience was like living next to an art colony, where the older players encouraged the youngest and we learned by watching." Wilder notes that English tennis generally "was a kind of garden-party game, more like croquet than tennis is today. Of course, the men wore long white flannels. White ducks were too informal. People behaved with a great deal of delightful decorum." Women, Wilder remarks, wore ankle-length white duck skirts and were very- much a part of

Amos and Thorn ton in 1975. their last meeting.

English tennis. They played the net well and "weren't just weak partners of men. They got out there and put the shots away with the best of them." T h e Wilder boys were born in Wisconsin but grew up in California. Thornton early on showed great literary talent; Amos was always the better athlete. Wilder, who is currently writing a family history and autobiography, today chuckles at an in joke that Thornton constructed in Theophiliis Xort/i. The hero of the novel, T. North (a name derived from "Thornton"), goes to the Newport Casino in 1929 asking about his tennis-playing brother. He finds the superintendent, who says: "Let me seenow. Ninetcen-sixtccn. Here's his picture and here's his name on the annual cup. I remember him well, a fine fellow and a top-ranking player. Where's he now?" "He's in the ministry," says North. "Fine," the superintendent replies approvingly. T h e man who has published several volumes of original poetry and has been hailed as the first Protestant critic to apply a theological perspective to the central traditions of modern literature advises both young and old to widen their experiences. Life and longevity rest on "not getting into a hole, not getting into too deep a pocket, but moving out into new areas, geographic or spiritual. Learn more languages, learn more about people, and learn more about the world," says the former champion. —Deeine Lord Deane Lord is director of information in the

Harvard New Office. S K I T K M I I K K - O C T O B I - : « 1986



Bok: Divestment no, satKtfons yes. SANCTIONS AND SOUTH AFRICA: Summer School students did not agitate about apartheid, but President Derek Bok publicly urged Congress to impose strong legislative sanctions on the government of South Africa. Bok was one of 95 American college and university presidents who signed a letter, sent to all senators and to leaders of the House of Representatives, calling for legislation to express "the breadth and depth of national feeling against apartheid." In testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Bok reiterated that congressional sanctions would have far more impact than the executive orders issued last year by President Reagan. He said any sanctions enacted should he strong enough to avoid appearing merely symbolic; should exert their principal effects on the Afrikaner regime; and should be directed toward clear objectives, such as termination of the existing state of emergency and the start of negotiations with black leaders. In a related incident, Bok joined former Nieman fellows in publicly protesting the Afrikaner government's abduction and detention without charge of Zwelakhe Sisulu, Nf '84-'85, editor of the Catholic-supported Htm Nation. Sisulu was later released.



BENEFACTOR HONORED. More than a year ago the Harvard Club of Orange County, California, marshaled by Jay Murley '57, began a campaign to persuade the Postal Service to issue a stamp honoring Harvard College on its 350th birthday. Although Columbia, Pcnn State, William and Mars', and other universities have already been so glorified, postal policy now forbids celebrating such institutions on stamps. Compromise was reached when federal authorities agreed to salute John Harvard, the individual. Robert A. Anderson left his studio in L e x i n g t o n , Massachusetts, climbed a tree in Harvard Yard to photograph the statue of John, and designed the stamp. Official issuing ceremonies are scheduled for September 3 at II a.m. at the Kennedy School. Dean Graham T. Allison Jr. '62, Ph.D. '68, will offer welcoming remarks. The Reverend Peter J. Gomes will pronounce an invocation. Postmaster General Albert V. Casey '43, M.B.A. '48, will speak. T h e future of the stamp after this grand beginning is problematical. Fiftysix cents is a denomination with no following. Few alumni routinely propound three-ounce letters. And officials of the Harvard Development Office, the Admissions Office, the Freshmen Dean's Office, the 350th ticket office, and the Alumni Association, when reached by this magazine, said they had no plans to abandon their postage meters for stamps of any price. But a man in the mail room of the Admissions Office predicts a fine display of the new stamp on incoming mail "from prospective stu-

h'irst tliiy of issue: September 3, 1986.

dents who will do anything to get people's attention." SUMMERTIME: With 5,264 students in regular courses and another 159 in the Radcliffc Dance Program, the Harvard Summer School acquired a new round of records to boast about. Participants in the Harvard "summer experience" came from all fifty states, Puerto Rico, and 84 foreign countries; they included a new high-count of 979 secondary school students and 907 foreign students. Among the latter are 15 Soviet English teachers, half of the very first U.S.-U.S.S.R. teacher exchange, who are observing and participating in various English as a Second Language programs. Pre-med courses, predictably, had the largest enrollments; other top attractions were "Introduction to Psychology and Social Relations" and "Introduction to Acting." OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS: When the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation released its newest list of fellowship recipients, 6 of the 25 held Harvard degrees. Those chosen, who will receive annual stipends for five years to fund their own projects, are environmentalist Lester Brown, M.P.A. '62; historian of religion C a r o l i n e Bynum '62, Ph.D. '69; anthropologist and historian William A. Christian Jr. '65; Harvard professor of mathematics Benedict Gross '71, Ph.D. '78; geneticist David Page, M.D. '84; and neurophysiologist Robert Shaplcy '65. RESEARCH AID: The National Institutes of Health have provided $8.6 million to the Harvard AIDS Treatment Evaluation Group to study the effectiveness of several anti-AIDS drugs. Doctors hope to have 1,000 patients enrolled in the program within six months. Five Harvard teaching hospitals will be involved: Massachusetts General, New England Deaconess, Beth Israel, Children's, and the Dana Farber Cancer Institute. PAID UP: T h e University has turned over $1,713,930 in taxes and $890,235 in in-licu-of-tax payments to the city of Cambridge during fiscal year 1985-86. Lesser sums went to Boston and Somerville to cover the University's Soldiers


350th MEDALISTS: Twenty individuals are slated to receive Harvard Medals at the convocation and meeting of the Harvard Alumni Association in Tercentenary Theatre, Saturday, September 6. T h e awards recognize "extraordinary service" to the University. T h e medalists are: James Luther Adams, S.T.B. '27, A.M. '30, Edward Mallinckrodt Jr. professor of divinity emeritus. David A. Aloian '49, executive director of the Harvard Alumni Association. Kenneth R. Andrews, Donald K. David professor of business administration. Edward L. Barnes '38, M.Arch. '42, architect. Marvin Bower, J.D. '28, M.B.A. '30, management consultant. Mary I. Bunting Smith, L L . D . 7 3 , president of Radcliffc College emerita. Allan R. Crite '68, artist. Paul A. Freund, LL.B. '31, S.J.D. '32, L L . D . 7 7 , Carl M. Loeb University Professor emeritus.

Field Park and Holden Green apartment complexes. According to Moody Investors Service Inc., Harvard's payments on nonacademic property during the 1984 assessment year made it the fourth largest taxpayer in Cambridge. MONEY MAN: Richard B. Boardman has become the new executive director of the Harvard College Fund, taking

Erwin N . Griswold, LL.B. '28, S.J.D. '29, LL.D. '53, former dean of the Law School. Francis Keppel '38, former dean of the Graduate School of Education, senior lecturer. Margaret G. Kivelson '50, Ph.D. '57, physicist. Adetokunbo O. Lucas, S.M.H. '64, physician. Agnes Mongan, former director and curator of drawings, Fogg Art Museum. Raymond J. Nagle, D . M . D . '24, former professor of prosthetic dentistry. Edward M. Purcell, Ph.D. '38, Gerhard Gade University Professor emeritus. Nathan M. Pusey, P h . D . '37, L L . D . 7 2 . president emeritus. Muriel S. Snowden '38, civic leader. Harry Starr '21, L L . B . '24, president and executive director, Lucius N. Littauer Foundation. Robert G. Stone J r . '45, fellow of Harvard College. Carl W. Walter '28, M.D. '32, clinical professor of surgery emeritus.

charge of the program that raises capital and annual operating funds for the College. During the Harvard Campaign he served as director of special and general gifts; most recently he has been an associate director of the University development office, heading development resources and services. Boardman's predecessor as executive director, William R. Fitzsimmons '67, is now dean

Boardman; Taking over at the Harvard College Fund.

of admissions and financial aids. T h e Fund raised a record $19.2 million this past year as it celebrated its sixtieth anniversary. GROWTH FUND: A new private endowment is intended to help assure and improve the physical care of the Arnold Arboretum's land and plantings for the enjoyment of the public. T h e Arboretum is on Boston parkland leased to Harvard, but financial limitations common to big cities have reduced the city's capacity to meet its maintenance obligations. Now, Boston Natural Areas Fund Inc., under the co-chairmanship of Caleb Loring J r . '43 and Harvey Steinberg, seeks several million dollars of tax-deductible endowment gifts to the independent "Fund for the Arnold Arboretum," being permanently held at Boston Safe Deposit and Trust Company. Only the income will be used for sprucing up. These benefactions should increasingly free the Arboretum's Harvard endowment money for teaching and research. SETTLEMENT: T h e University has negotiated a new contract with 425 food service workers represented by Hotel and Restaurant Workers Local 26. HarSEPTBMBER-OcrOBBR 1986


JOHN HAKVARDfe JOURNAL vard agreed to pay raises over the next three years of 4.5, 4, and 5 percent, and must give 90 days notice before hiring an outside firm to manage any of its dining halls. In addition, any firm contracting to manage the Harvard Faculty Club must recognize the union and hire current Club employees. Food serviceworkers at the Business School were still negotiating their contract with an independent contractor at press time.

THE VIEW FROM ASIA: When faculty members and administrators at fifty Asian universities were asked which of the world's universities they regarded most highly. "Harvard overwhelmingly was named the world's best. . . far above its closest rivals," according to a report in the Asian Wall Street Journal. Cambridge and Oxford were tied for second. Then came Stanford, Berkeley, M.I.T., Yale, Tokyo, Sorbonne, Cornell, with Michigan and Princeton tied for tenth place. T h e voters looked for superior research achievements across many fields of study, well-known and outstanding faculties, and overall academic excellence. But they noted that when it comes to getting a job in Asia, an Asian student is better equipped with a degree from the best domestic school than from a foreign oneâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;even one of the top five.

DEPARTING: After twelve years as director of the Kennedy School's Institute of Politics, Jonathan Moore, M.P.A. '57, has left to join the State Department. As I'.S. coordinator of refugee affairs and ambassador at large, he will supervise this country's domestic and international efforts to resolve refugee problems worldwide. ARRIVING: Roy P. Mottahedeh '60, Ph.D. '70, a leading scholar of medieval Islamic history, has joined the Harvard history department. A former MaeArthur prize fellow, Mottahedeh has been a member of Princeton's Near Eastern studies department. His most recent book is The Mantle of the Prophet: Religion ana" Polities in Iran. . . . Radioastronomer Patrick Thaddeus, whose research has uncovered about one-fourth of the molecular species found thus far in outer space, has begun a joint professorship in the department of astronomy and the division of applied sciences. Formerly of Columbia and Goddard Institute, he has also been appointed senior s c i e n t i s t at the S m i t h s o n i a n Astrophysical Observatory. HEADS OF HOUSE: Quincy House will have acting co-masters this year. Michael Shinagel, Ph.D. '64, dean of continuing education and University

Rickshaw driver, Katmandu, Nepal. Harvard turns up in unusual plates. The photograph is l/y Tara Doyle, a Ph.D. candidate in religion, mo was aide to discover shut the drivetâ&#x20AC;˘$firstname is lialram. 214




Extension, and Rosa Shinagel, chair of the social studies department at the Park School in Brookline, move to Quincy after a previous stint at Lcverett House, where they filled in during the sabbatical absence of co-masters John and Judith Dowling. The Shinagels take over from David Aloian '49, executive director of the Harvard Alumni Association, and Mimi Aloian, who are retiring because of David Aloian's impaired health. SIGNAL HONORS: Phillips professor of astronomy Alexander Dalgarno has been awarded the gold medal of Britain's Royal Astronomical Society for his studies of interstellar chemistry and physics. . . . McKay professor of applied sciences emeritus David Turnbull is a co-recipient of the 1985 Japan Prize, awarded by the Science and Technology Foundation of Japan and considered the Nobel prize of the technological sciences. Trumbull was honored for his groundbreaking work in materials science, a field with applications for the electronics, computer, and polymer industries. . . . Frank H. Wcstheimer, Ph.D. '35, Locb professor of chemistry emeritus, is one of twenty recipients of the 1986 National Medal of Science. T h e award honors his research on the

Did you vote for


mechanisms of organic and enzymatic reactions, which has potential applications in t h e d e s i g n of m e d i c a l chemicals. MEMORIAL OVERHAUL: In preparation

for various celebratory gatherings at the 350th, Memorial Hall was cleaned and polished during the summer, hut major renovations are planned for next spring. The roof will lie repaired, the sandstone and brick walls cleaned, the stainedglass windows fixed. T h e tower, destroyed by lire in 1956, will not be replaced. NEW CENTER: T h e Kennedy School of Government has received $5 million from Walter H. and Phyllis J, Shorenstein to establish a center on the press, polities, and public policy in memory of their daughter Joan Shorenstein Barone, Dv '68-'71, the former producer of CBS Evening News. The center's activities will include intensive educational programs for reporters, editors, and media executives on governmental processes and policy issues, as well as outreach programs to bring journalists and government officials together to discuss media-government problems.

in the Harvard Board of Overseers election? If so, please send your name and address to our new address: Alumni Against Apartheid, 3372 Stuyvesant Place NW, Washington, D.C. 20015. We want to tell you our plans for the coming year. And get your ideas on how to make the Overseers more socially accountable. While you're at it, please tell other Harvard-Radcliffe alumni/ae interested in divestment issues to contact us. Or allow us to contact them, by adding theu- names and addresses to the coupon below. Thanks to you, Gay Seidman won a seat on the Board this past election. With your help, we can have even greater impact and influence, bring about complete divestmentâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and make the University a credible moral force against apartheid.

BETTER BUILDING: The Graduate School of Design has opened a new laboratory for construction technology where computers, audio-visual equipment, and other teaching aids will allow faculty and students to combine theory with practice in their study of construction prohlcms. Major funding for the lab came from the Shimizu Construction Company, one of Japan's largest design, construction, and engineering firms. DEATHS: F. S t a n t o n D e l a n d '36, LL.B. '40, lawyer, trustee, and president of the Board of Overseers from 1972 to 1975, died July 14. . . . D a n a L . I'arnsworth, M.I). '33, L L . D . '71, director of the University Health Services from 1954 to 1971, died August 2. . . . George Hamlin, the Loeb Drama ( Center's producing director for twenty years, died July 5. . . . Robinson professor of mathematics emeritus Oscar Zariski, an innovator in algebraic geometry, died July 4. Obituaries will appear in this magazine's next issue.

Write us.

Thanks for giving me the chance to vote against apartheid in the last Overseers election. Tell me what else I can do to bring about complete divestment. I'm adding names and addresses of other alumni/ae you should contact. (Use a separate sheet for additional names.) NAME DEGREE & CLASS. ADDRESS CITY/STATE ZII\


I'm enclosing a contribution payable to Alumni Against Apartheid (tax-exemption pending) to spread the word through ads and mailings.


HARVARD/RADCLIFFE ALUMNI AGAINST APARTHEID 3372 Stuyvesant Place NW, Washington, D.C. 20015 (202) 667-5270



jfr *

w "f"*''*.-v**^q i





The Classes

A PREVIEW OP COMING ATTRACTIONS The Harvard-Radcltffe Club of Southern California hosts a day-long symposium in Los Angeles in honor of the350th, on September 20. Warburg professor of economics John Kenneth (lalbraith addresses the MarvardRadcliffe Club of the Hudson Valley on October 3 /// a 350th-aiiniveisary celebration. The Harvard Club of France will celebrate the 350th in Paris at the Palais de nnstitut de France on October 11. For additional information on these events, contact Stephen W'hisnant, Wadsvorth House, Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138 (617) 49S-S326.

Detail from Harvard Tercentenary: The Chapel, one of a series of views of the festivities fifty years ago painted hy Waldo Peirce '08. For a photo album of other anniversary scenes, see pages 222-223. SiaTKMBKH-Oct'OHKK I'JHfc


SPECIAL 350TH GATHERINGS A meeting of Harvard ROTC alumni will be held Friday, September 5, at 3:30 r.M, in the Wadsworth House conference room in honor of Harvard's 350th anniversary. For further information, contacr Major General Joseph M. Ambrose '42, LL.B. '48, at (617) 879-7428. In recognition of Harvard's 350th anniversary, and the close ties to Harvard of many prominent masons past and present from all walks of life, representatives of the Harvard Lodge and other Masonic bodies will meet briefly in Wadsworth House at the office of the director of the University Library on Fridav, September 5, at 3:00 I'.M. For further information, contact Robert P. Beach, M.B.A. '40, at (617) 426-6040, ext. 113.




S E P T E M B E R - O C T O B E R 1986







Tercentennial Album Harvard's Tercentenary drew plenty of distinguished outsiders. It also brought thousands of alumni back to celebrate their alma mater. Some festival touches recalled the past: a lion borrowed from the Emmanuel College arms capped the tallest flagpoles; the official flag of Harvard's bicentennial celebration was unsealed and raised at the meeting of the Associated Harvard Clubs on September 17. Congratulations arrived from around the world; so did presents. Alumni in Japan sent a 300-year-old stone lantern.




More than 300,000 spectators turned out on the evening of the 17th to watch a reproduction of the Harvard statue cruise the Charles River, serenaded by the Harvard Band, as fireworks blazed overhead. When the last set piece was extinguished, undergraduates formed a torchlight procession to escort the replica back to the Yard for a long series of cheers before the original. Next day, Amory Coolidgc '17 led off the alumni procession in threatening weather. ("An urchin impulse thrilled," the Alumni Bulletin confessed, "at the sight of so many silk hats preparing to meet their makers.") Spared the downpour was a package of letters and documents sealed by President Conant, "To be opened by the President of Harvard in the autumn of 2036 and no! before."






Yesterday's News From the pages of the Harvard Alumni Bulletin and Harvard Magazine. Government professor A. Lawrence Lowell, A.B. 1877, is one of three Harvard representatives at the celebration of the University of Aberdeen's quadricentennial.

certain conditions from Arizona, Texas, and Oklahoma." * # #

The Newsboys Union of Boston raises $2,567.17 toward a scholarship fund to send former newsboys to Harvard.

President Conant is spending -: two days a week in Washington chairing the National Defense Research Commission, and many faculty members are engaged in "confidential work of the highest significance in their fields." The Crimson, meanwhile, endorses "all-out war" to crush fascism.


Freshman Lionel de Jersey Harvard becomes the first relative of John Harvard to register in the College. Holworthy Hall, refurbished after 99 years, boasts hot-water heating and "shower baths" for the first time. Wood row Wilson loses to Charles Evans Hughes nearly two to one in a student straw vote. The Prohibition candidate receives ten votes. Barracks and stables are under construction on Soldiers Field to house twenty enlisted men and 85 horses for the department of military science.

Franklin D. Roosevelt '04 loses to Alfred Landon in a student poll.

Harvard receives title to New York's Ritz-Carlton Hotel and the land beneath in a bequest from the lace Robert W. Goelet '02. The property is assessed at $3,675,000. University enrollment ^reaches 12,000, a third larger than the previous peak year. . . . Harvard reports it has spent approximately $250,000 on emergency housing for veterans and expects a total outlay of over a million dollars before the crisis ends.

^ / l The Studebaker Corporation provides $10,000 a year for two years "for research into the best ways of regulating street traffic." A naval reserve officers' training course is established under the new department of naval science and tactics. Sixty freshmen immediately sign up. * * # The Memorial Hall dining room closes because of students' preference for "the nasty, unhygienic, and unsociable fashion of 'eating around' at cafeterias and lunch counters." President Conant decides that -- che football team shall play a postseason game, the receipts of which will go to unemployment relief.


The Three I lundrcdrh Anni'versary Fund raises $2.8 million, including scholarship money for "students from New Mexico or under

Veterans' /ionsing. Business School.

The weekly board fee for undergraduates reaches $14, prompting talk of limiting servings in the dining halls.


Radcliffe and Harvard students register together for the

first time. Derek Bok is installed as the 25th president of Harvard; the search begins for a new president of Radcliffe, as Mary I. Bunting announces plans to retire. . . . The I larvard Class of '75 includes the sons of the presidents of Columbia and Vale. S E P T E M B E R - O C T O B E R 1986


Obituaries KHited by Nancy Jarhon












HNIZVOVJ^ awftavj]





ALL/MNI £xcHAiVG£ Millions


THE ALUMNI EXCHANGE Do you own an inn or hotel, run a small business or consulting firm? Are you a real estate or travel agent, art collector, or shop owner? If so, Harvard Magazine's new feature, THE ALUMNI EXCHANGE, will most certainly interest you. Because your surprisingly close network of university alumni allows a camaraderie and professional support not available from your day-to-day clientele, we have created a new advertising section starting in this issue, and plan to continue running it throughout the year. The new ALUMNI EXCHANGE is a collection of small display ads appearing just ahead of the Classified section and offered at a reduced rate to alumni only. If you are interested in appearing in our special alumni advertising page, please contact us for details at (617) 495-5746. We look forward to hearing from you.

Desperately Seeking Graduation Accomplished undergraduate entrepreneur needs substantial loan lo complete Harvard education Resume, references, and financial information available upon request. Excellent opportunity to make a healthy profit, while helping me become a lei low alumnus. PLEASEI Call Scot! Mize at (617) 576-6489 or HM Box 999.

of dollars arc cxchnnsed at every Heritage Numismatic Auction of rare coins. For coin collectors, auctions like these are the DEM w:iy to huv at real market.or sell for more profit. As the official auctioneer for several top numismatic sates, we can deliver a broader market of enthusiastic trdJers. When you consign with the expert sat Heritage, your coins Could realise fir ices like rhese: 1877 $S Proof 60/6S. .. S13J00 l9l6/t9l6.v,MS6J/6J S/0,560 1889-CC$1 MS6J/63. $10,450 We'll send you a brochure and KKEE copy of out last auction catalog. Phortc 1-800-US C O I N S (87 2 - 6 4 6 7 ) or write H e r i t a g e Numismatic Auctions, 311 Market Street, Dallas, Iexas75ZOZ.

Greater Boston Hospitality We offer the best services for relocation. Wide range of housing available. Write: Box 1142, Brookline, Mass. 02146. Lauren Simonelli, Harvard A.B.

David Hayes

(617) 227-5430


Cambridge, Mass.


Luxurious, completely furnished I own house (sleeps 4). with Mexican tile, and oak floors. Wood stove, skylights, ceiling Ian. washer/dryer, dishwasher, garage, yard- Short or long term $1.500/month Also available tor 1-year lease: new 3-bedroom. 2-balhroom tcrwnhouse. and 2-bedroom IVj-baltirocm townhouse (617) 868-2873. Jean TePaske '66

Research for my next book is on relationships with simple technology. I'd like to hear your stories about your favorite implement, how you learned to use it, what you use it (or, if you loan it. David Tresemer, 792 14th St., Boulder, Colo 80302. (303l 449-0486

Southern Spain on Mediterranean


Charming Andalusian villa near picturesque village, with spectacular 70-mile view of coastline, mountains Luxuriant gardens, terraces, secluded patio with orange trees, fountain. Spacious living rooms. 5 bedrooms, modern plumbing, electricity Housekeeper, gardener. 50 niles from Alhambra. in Granada 51.500$4,000 monlhly, depending on season. (617) 729-4888.

All Natural, lean and flavorful, grass-fed Autumn Iambi Available now. Shipped to your door. Call: (401) 294-3137 or write: Pine Meadow Farm, Liberty Church Rd., Exeter, R.I. 02822.

ASTROLOGER ByAppointment. 232 East 77 th Street New York City 10021 (212)472-3334

• ul§ • •



AN AFFORDABLE, FULL COLOR HARVARD PRINT! A beautiful, high-quality, lull color 2<1"x36" reproduction of the campus and the Charles River as seen from atop Holyoke Center. Printed on coated stock and suitable for framing, this image lirst appeared as the cover ol the 1985 Harvard Crimson Commencement issue. Fhotographed by Timothy W Plass '85 S10

Specialists in Discontinued China Crystal Silver send stamped self-addressed envelope with specific requests to: Locators Inc., Dept, H , 90S Rock St., Little Rock. AR 72202 (501) 371 -0858

Wanted to Buy The country's largest gallery specializing in American and European art will pay highest prices for fine paintings, watercolors, drawings and sculpture from the 18th century to the present All inquiries receive expert attention and reply. Please contact Stuart P Feld. A M . '58. B

(Price includes shipping and handling Wilton the United Stales Prims arc shipped m sturdy mailing tubes via UPS Mass residents please add 5% sales tax) (Allow 2-3 weeks for delivery) sendto


Left H a n d C a n y o n P r i n t s

ri\nv\w> MAGAZINE

211 Lowell St.

Andover, MA


cHirschl p V d l e r JyALLERIES INC. 21 East 70th Street. New York 1002H212) 535-8810 Tuesday-Friday: 9.30 to 5:30. Saturday 9 30 10 5

CLASSIFIED REAL ESTATE Massachusetts Real Instate CAMBRIDGE, five-room condominium overlooking RarJcliMe (Shepard Street). Approximately 900 sq. I I . in 4-slory brick building. Charm throughout, lovely kitchen. Greal appreciation value. Fast occupancy possible. S180.000. (617) 495-2485. (617) 5471871.



A n elegant bed-and-breakfast establishment at





overlooking the Square. While



tarry awhile luxuriously

Maine, in fair





Ostetville waterfront. The view is mesmerizing, the home, positively charming. Spectacular views from inside and out. 3 large bedrooms. 2Vi large baths, family room, open eat-in kitchen, formal living room,

Reservations suggested. Telephone (207) 563-1448 Post Office Box 395


and your own private dock. Call for appointments and viewing. Modestly priced. $750,000. Wianno Really (617)428-8800 68 Wianno Ave.. Osterviile.