Education: Unconquered Frontier

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'Not the scientific exploration of things." Pusey warned, "not the scientific examination of the behavior of groups of people, but the living, vivid acquaintance with the adventures of the human spirit —this it is which especially can stretch the humanity that lies in a man . . . and needle it into its fullest growth."

Good Old-Fashioneds. For nine years Nathan Pusey, his wife and three children lived happily in Appleton, and each year the college prospered more. Eventually, Pusey could report to his trustees that three new buildings had risen on the campus, that his budget (balanced) was up from $638,000 to $1,132,000, that since 1942 total assets had climbed 60% to $6,240,000, and that the average faculty salary was up from $2,500 to $4,483. Then one day in the spring of 1953, Nathan Pusey got a wire from a banker in Manhattan. Its net: Come to New York for a conference. For months he had been hoping for a donation from that particular banker, and he was therefore delighted. But when he got to New York, he found that the banker had arranged a lunch with three members of the Harvard Corporation. Lunch lasted for more than four hours, and Pusey went back to Appleton without his donation.

There were other members of the Corporation who "happened" to drop by Lawrence. ("No need to worry," one reported back. "Pusey's old-fashioneds are as good as any in Boston.") And it was not long before Pusey guessed what was up. Finally. Dr. Roger I. Lee, senior fellow on the Corporation, telephoned Harvard's decision. "What were you doing when you got the news?" a reporter asked Mrs. Pusey. "What do you think a woman does on Monday?" "Not the wash?" "Certainly," said Mrs. Pusey.

Brahmin Ex Officio. Since then, installed in the 28-room presidential mansion, Harvard's new President Pusey has been learning fast what it is to live in a "glass hive." He has explored Harvard's laboratories and museums, and from the wall of his colonial office, Duplessis' Benjamin Franklin looks down upon a man who with almost incredible composure has made the jump from a $1,132,000 budget to one that exceeds $36 million.

To Harvard he is perhaps the most ubiquitous president the university has had in years. He has had dinner at the houses, has answered students' questions on everything from Christianity to the fate of the dormitory biddies. He has popped up at poetry readings and concerts, and at a great reception at Boston's Gardner museum, he has been initiated into Boston society—for every Harvard president, if not Brahmin-born, at least becomes one ex officio. Even his Sundays are jammed with activity. A devout Episcopalian, he attends 9 a.m. service at Cambridge's Christ Church, 11 a.m. service at the Memorial Church, and, in the afternoon, there is often open house.