invited Charles Munch, the distinguished conductor of the Boston Symphony. The maestro wrote Danny an encomiastic letter,
in his own hand, commending his performance and inviting him to spend the summer working for the famous Tanglewood Music Festival.
The tasks are not exalted, but 1 feel that you would
benefit from the proximity to all the great artists who come visit us. And I would personally welcome you to sit in on our orchestra rehearsals, since I know you aspire to a professional career.
Yours sincerely,
- Charles Munch
This invitation also solved a touchy family dilemma. For, in
- her weekly letters, Gisela earnestly assured her son
that if he came back home that summer she was certain that
his father would destigmatize him. And they could build a new relationship.
And yet, although he longed to see his mother-and to share
his great success with Dr. Landau-Danny simply could not risk another confrontation with Arthur Ross!, D. D. S.
Then suddenly, almost abruptly, freshman year was at an end.
The month of May began with Reading Period -for exams.
These special days were theoretically for extra, independent study. But for a lot of Harvard men (like Andrew Eliot and company), it meant sitting down to do a whole semester's work, beginning with the very first assignments in their courses.
The' athletic season culminated with the many confrontations against Yale. Not all the clashes went in Harvard's favor. But Jason Gilbert led the tennis team to victory. And took particular delight in watching the Yale coach's face as he unmercifully destroyed their number-one man, and returned -with Dickie Newall in the doubles for another round of sweet revenge. -
Now even Jason had to settle dOwn and do some heavy
studying. He drastically reduced his social life, restricting it to weekends only.
Meanwhile, in Harvard Square the sales of cigarettes and
NODOz pep pills rose dramatically. Lamont was packed
around the clock. Its modern ventilation system spewed back all the scents of unchanged shirts, cold sweat, and naked fear. Yet no one noticed.
Examinations actually were a relief. For The Class of '58 learned to its great delight that the old proverb about Harvard was quite true: The hardest part was getting in. You had to be a genius not to graduate.
And yet, as freshman dorms were emptied-to make room for
the ancient graduates of twenty-five years previous who would be living in them once again during Commencement Week-some members of The Class were leaving, never to
return. -
A tiny number had actually accomplished the impossible and flunked out. Some honestly conceded that they could not bear the prospect of more pressure from such unbelievably ambitious peers. And thus, capitulating to preserve their sanity, elected to transfer to universities near home.
Some went down fighting. And lost their minds in doing so. David Davidson (still in the hospital) was not the last. In fact, at Easter there had been a suicide compassionately misrepresented by the Crimson as an auto accident (although Bob Rutherford of San Antonio had actually been parked in his garage when death occurred).
And yet, as certain rugged members of The Class would
argue, was this not something of a lesson to both the victims and the survivors? Would life at the very top be any easier than the self-inflicted torture chamber that was Harvard?
But the more sensitive of them recognized that they still had another three years to survive. - -
ANDREW ELIOT'S DIARY
October 1, 1955
Last August when we were all up at the family house in - Maine-where I spent most of the time getting to know
my new stepmother and her kids-Father and I had our annual lakeside chat. First be congratulated me for squeaking by in all my courses. Indeed, the prospect of my actually staying in one school for four entire years now seemed to him a pleasant
in his own hand, commending his performance and inviting him to spend the summer working for the famous Tanglewood Music Festival.
The tasks are not exalted, but 1 feel that you would
benefit from the proximity to all the great artists who come visit us. And I would personally welcome you to sit in on our orchestra rehearsals, since I know you aspire to a professional career.
Yours sincerely,
- Charles Munch
This invitation also solved a touchy family dilemma. For, in
- her weekly letters, Gisela earnestly assured her son
that if he came back home that summer she was certain that
his father would destigmatize him. And they could build a new relationship.
And yet, although he longed to see his mother-and to share
his great success with Dr. Landau-Danny simply could not risk another confrontation with Arthur Ross!, D. D. S.
Then suddenly, almost abruptly, freshman year was at an end.
The month of May began with Reading Period -for exams.
These special days were theoretically for extra, independent study. But for a lot of Harvard men (like Andrew Eliot and company), it meant sitting down to do a whole semester's work, beginning with the very first assignments in their courses.
The' athletic season culminated with the many confrontations against Yale. Not all the clashes went in Harvard's favor. But Jason Gilbert led the tennis team to victory. And took particular delight in watching the Yale coach's face as he unmercifully destroyed their number-one man, and returned -with Dickie Newall in the doubles for another round of sweet revenge. -
Now even Jason had to settle dOwn and do some heavy
studying. He drastically reduced his social life, restricting it to weekends only.
Meanwhile, in Harvard Square the sales of cigarettes and
NODOz pep pills rose dramatically. Lamont was packed
around the clock. Its modern ventilation system spewed back all the scents of unchanged shirts, cold sweat, and naked fear. Yet no one noticed.
Examinations actually were a relief. For The Class of '58 learned to its great delight that the old proverb about Harvard was quite true: The hardest part was getting in. You had to be a genius not to graduate.
And yet, as freshman dorms were emptied-to make room for
the ancient graduates of twenty-five years previous who would be living in them once again during Commencement Week-some members of The Class were leaving, never to
return. -
A tiny number had actually accomplished the impossible and flunked out. Some honestly conceded that they could not bear the prospect of more pressure from such unbelievably ambitious peers. And thus, capitulating to preserve their sanity, elected to transfer to universities near home.
Some went down fighting. And lost their minds in doing so. David Davidson (still in the hospital) was not the last. In fact, at Easter there had been a suicide compassionately misrepresented by the Crimson as an auto accident (although Bob Rutherford of San Antonio had actually been parked in his garage when death occurred).
And yet, as certain rugged members of The Class would
argue, was this not something of a lesson to both the victims and the survivors? Would life at the very top be any easier than the self-inflicted torture chamber that was Harvard?
But the more sensitive of them recognized that they still had another three years to survive. - -
ANDREW ELIOT'S DIARY
October 1, 1955
Last August when we were all up at the family house in - Maine-where I spent most of the time getting to know
my new stepmother and her kids-Father and I had our annual lakeside chat. First be congratulated me for squeaking by in all my courses. Indeed, the prospect of my actually staying in one school for four entire years now seemed to him a pleasant
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