When the poet Kevin Young ’92 wrote in his book of cultural criticism, The Grey Album: On the Blackness of Blackness, that “once you’re in, you’re in forever,” he did not mean Harvard, or his house, or a final club. Young meant the Dark Room Collective, one of the dozens of unofficial intellectual societies that have cropped up at Harvard over the centuries.
At the time, attendance at Harvard’s religious services was harshly enforced. Monitors sat in the back of the church, checking for absentees. According to the second chapter of the Laws of Harvard College, those who were late to Prayers were subjected to a “one Penny” fine and those who missed Prayers were fined “two Pence.”
By 1916, Hamilton was the world’s premier authority on lead poisoning research. Led by academic as well as humanitarian motivations, she worked in Chicago and Paris before receiving a letter in the mail she most likely thought would never come: an offer to work at Harvard University.
Olmsted and his peers were following the lead of Radcliffe women down the street. Maud Wood Park, a Radcliffe alum, had founded the College Equal Suffrage League—a club that became a nationwide organization—at the women’s college a decade earlier.
These bodies had been hidden, not by some sinister killer, but by the University’s very own employees, students, and faculty.
Maven—the Hebrew word for expert—easily describes Alan M. Dershowitz in the courtrooms where he has defended Mike Tyson, O.J. Simpson, and Julian Assange. However, while his unwavering standards for quality pastrami on rye may be as staunch as his support for First Amendment rights, opening a deli was a case he had yet to encounter.