One Harvard man's dream collapsed like a house of cards yesterday afternoon, as Ross Whittier, Jr. '43, primed for three days with the expectation of a luncheon date with Katherine Hepburn, discovered that the whole affair was the work of a few conspirators from Winthrop House.
Whittier, who is a bloodhound of no mean repute in Puritan circles, wrote the famed actress and sent flowers; much to his surprise and joy, "her secretary" called him the next day and arranged for a private luncheon at a hotel in Boston.
The denouement was tragic. With an audience of a dozen or so peering from behind potted palms, he paced back and forth for some time, finally became worried and telephoned Miss Hepburn. "Where are you?" he asked. "Who are you?" said she. Result: no lunch.
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