One autumn afternoon in 1956, a 37-year-old assistant professor in the classics department was summoned to the phone while attending a Princeton football game at Yale. The voice on the other end bore momentous news: The University’s Board of Trustees ...(back to the article)
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As an entering Freshman with the class of 1961, I arrived at Princeton not long after Robert Goheen took the helm. We all were there together at the 60s began to 'rock and roll' the establishment and I will always remember Goheen's tolerance and unstated support as we brought beatnic poets to Alexander Hall for candlight 'cafe' readings, the early 'ban the bomb' movement, and, soon thereafter, the Vietnam protests. Two particularly keen memories: 1) Confused, frustrated, and not sure what I wanted to do with my life and my studies, I wanted to take what's now called a 'gap year' in the middle of my time at Princeton to travel, think about life, and gain perspecitive. Though common now, that was not done in 1960! My father drove down from New England and together we went to see President Goheen and propose I be permitted to take a years' leave of absence. Goheen was persuaded, I went to Denmark to build wooden boats, and the now common 'year off' became an accepted option -- later enthusiastically endorsed by Dean of Admissions Hardigan. I did sort my life out, returned to Princeton, graduated with the Class of 1962, and went on to join the first wave of the Peace Corps. 2)Back at Princeton after my boat-building sojourn, I was one of the first residents of a rather boring set of new Dorms, living on the ground floor off a dark corridor marked by a large wall of cinderblocks. My flame of the year, an artist, got rebellious one evening and painted that wall with a dark mural of a bleak landscape. Somber as it was, it was a great improvement over the dreary cinderblock, brightening both my spirits and the local environment. All too soon, however, our custodian informed me that the University was scheduled to repaint the wall at my expense. Immediately I sought out my best buddy in the Classics Dept.and together we created and printed on the antique hand printing press in Firestone's graphic arts room a formal apology in perfect Latin. Tracking down President Goheen reading his NY Times in the Student Center, I approached and handed him the printed apology. Peering up over his half-glasses, he smiled and inquired, "And what is it, pray tell, that you are apologizing for?" I briefly outlined the situation, the art, and my request that the mural be allowed to stay. "I'll look into it," he said with a wry smile. That evening, returning to my room I was intercepted by the custodian. "The mural stays!" he said with delight. "The President appeared here this afternoon, looked it over, and gave the order to Buildings and Grounds that the mural stay." Always a gentleman, always thoughtful, and with grace and dignity, Robert Goheen steered Princeton through some very difficult and creative times. I doubt that our mural lasted many more years, but his gift to me of the year off, like Robert Frost's, road dividing in a snowy wood, "made all the difference."
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