Years ago, a young Bostonian’s quest for status began the moment he enrolled at Harvard. He needed to enter the right final club, the right country club, the right Boston club, the boards of the right charities and finally, if he reached the ziggurat of Boston society, Harvard’s almighty Board of Overseers. His children would, in their turn, need to go to the right boarding schools, join the right societies and know whether or not the right wines were being served at the right time.
Final clubs were anything but final. After graduation, Harvard society moved on to the plethora of elite clubs that still draw an exclusive membership in twenty-first century Boston.
The Somerset, Union, Tavern, Algonquin, St. Botolph and—for women—Chilton Clubs represented the hub of The Hub. The stature of these clubs was so elevated that no one could aspire to the city’s first circle of power without joining one, or better still, several.
Today, in Beantown, the rules have changed.
Off to WellesleyM aybe the Harvard final clubs should charter weekend buses for overnights to Barnard. Too far? Perhaps you final club
Bee Should Act IndependentlyTo the editors: I must admit that after reading "The Bee: A Club of Their Own" (News, Feb. 17), my
Opening Their DoorsI live in the shadow of the Fly. The final club's red-brick edifice stands within feet of the entrance to
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The Greater of Two EvilsOur energies would be better spent finding concrete ways to improve the living standard of women in abusive relationships who fear for their lives—the real second-class citizens.