Page 16 of The Missing Pages
HARVARD IS NOT A PLACE FOR THE TIMID OR THE FAINT OF heart. I learned that early in my first weeks there. Both of my parents were nervous that given my shyness, I might sequester myself in my room or the library between classes and not come out of my shell.
But a few months prior to my first semester on campus, my mother seized an opportunity to discuss my future living quarters when it was only the three of us in the smaller dining room of Lynnewood Hall.
“Harry,” she said after we’d all sat down around the mahogany dinner table, the deep-red walls and mounted brass ornaments giving it a homey cavern-like feel. “Have you given any thought about where you’ll live at Harvard?”
“No, I haven’t,” I admitted. I was more excited about my future classes there than where I’d be resting my head.
“Well, I’m assuming the dormitories on the Yard.”
“No. No.” She lifted her hand to stop me. “My friends have told me they’re just dreadful. No heat. And the rooms are supposedly so small there’s hardly any space for more than a desk and a bed!”
“I would be fine with that,” I said. “As long as I can squeeze in a bookshelf.”
“There won’t be any room from what I hear, darling.”
“He’ll figure it out. The boy won’t freeze, I promise you, Nellie.”
“Of course, he won’t.” Mother beamed. “Because I have excellent news!”
“What news is that?” Father enjoyed playing along with Mother when she had that certain exuberant look in her eyes.
“I had tea with Emily Havemeyer Potter yesterday. Her son Edward is entering Harvard as a freshman this fall.”
“Ah, wonderful. Harry will have a friend there right from the start then!” Father said as he cut into his steak.
“Well, even better than that,” Mother continued. “Emily is friendly with Eleanor Roosevelt and she told me Franklin had the most wonderful suite at Westmorly Court. It’s walking distance from the campus. And she said the boys could take over Franklin’s lease when he graduates this spring!”
“Well, that sounds good to me,” Father said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Smart business is an efficient business. Right, Harry?”
My grandfather had always used that phrase. It was the self-made millionaire in him. He didn’t like to waste time and he liked the maximum return on his investment.
Securing a place that was good enough for a Roosevelt was basically a fait accompli.
The suite I shared with Edward was considered the finest on campus.
Westmorly Court was located in a strip of real estate known as the Harvard Gold Coast. Here, we found every luxury imaginable for two young freshmen.
Aside from modern plumbing and electric lights, the building, with its elegant brick facade and white-trimmed Palladian windows, boasted an ornate marble swimming pool, billiard room, squash court, and even a solarium on the roof.
While our two mothers had exchanged letters in advance on how to best decorate our chambers before our arrival—sheets ordered from Wanamaker’s in Philadelphia, two Oriental carpets from Hardwick he was as fluid with conversation as he was in drinking champagne.
The next morning, I found Edward stepping out of the bathroom in his robe.
“Hey, Harry,” he said, grinning through the haze of his hangover.
“Maybe next time don’t bore the ladies with all those quotes and esoteric book references.
Bit of a deadweight, you know?” He gave me a little punch to my shoulder.
“They’re from Beacon Hill, not Oxford. They prefer to dance the cakewalk rather than chat about William Shakespeare! ”