In the early 1970s, at roughly the same time, we separately fled civilization to the Montana wilderness. in mathematics at the University of Michigan in 1967 and then joined the Berkeley Department of Mathematics as an instructor. in philosophy from Princeton before joining the faculty at Ohio State and later serving as chairman of the Department of Philosophy at Macalester College, in Minnesota. We were both graduate students and assistant professors in the 1960s.
At Harvard we took many of the same courses from the same professors. Both of us had attended public high schools and had then gone on to Harvard, from which I graduated in 1957, he in 1962. For many years he and I had lived parallel lives to some degree. One of these students, whom they dubbed “Lawful,” was Theodore John Kaczynski, who would one day be known as the Unabomber, and who would later mail or deliver sixteen package bombs to scientists, academicians, and others over seventeen years, killing three people and injuring twenty-three.
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To preserve the anonymity of these student guinea pigs, experimenters referred to individuals by code name only. Murray, conducted a disturbing and what would now be seen as ethically indefensible experiment on twenty-two undergraduates. There, from the fall of 1959 through the spring of 1962, Harvard psychologists, led by Henry A. Known as the Annex, it served as a laboratory in which staff members of the Department of Social Relations conducted research on human subjects. In 1959 a comfortable old house stood on the site. 7 Divinity Avenue is a modern multi-story academic building today, housing the university’s Department of Molecular and Cellular Biology. This time my return was prompted not by nostalgia but by curiosity. These left such a vivid impression that a decade later my recollection of them inspired me, then a senior in high school, to apply to Harvard.
Near the end of this dead-end street sits the Peabody Museum-a giant Victorian structure attached to the Botanical Museum, where my mother had taken me as a young boy, in 1943, to view the spectacular exhibit of glass flowers.
On a trip there last fall I found myself a few blocks north of Harvard Yard, on Divinity Avenue. Like many Harvard alumni, I sometimes wander the neighborhood when I return to Cambridge, reminiscing about the old days and musing on how different my life has been from what I hoped and expected then.
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