During the last war, few people at Harvard had as much right to be confused as Leigh Hoadley, master of Leverett House and professor of Zoology. "Grinding out pre-meds," he had to teach an army course, a navy-civilian course, and a double-time navy course--all beginning at different times of the year. Although he claims he is not sure whether he gave the right lectures to the right classes, the chances are good that Hoadley was on schedule, for the precision of the scientist underlies his easy-going manner.

He displayed this easy adaptability when he was an exchange professor at the Sorbonne in 1939--hardly a peaceful year even for zoology lectures. Uncertain of having a class to listen to him, he recalls that "one day there would be 45 students, the next six, and then 45 again, as the soldiers were shipped out and back." Hoadley's lectures must have been good, because his last one lured over 60 people away from hearing Hitler broadcast his famous reply to President Roosevelt.

Hoadley had begun his scientific work 25 years earlier, at high school in Northampton, Massachusetts. Later, at the University of Michigan, he assisted in biology, anatomy, and embryology, but World War I interrupted his study. After spending his European assignment working in the ambulance corps and performing post-mortems in a pathological laboratory, he returned to Michigan for his A.B. A doctorate from the University of Chicago and an assistant professorship from Brown University followed quickly. Then Harvard spotted the young scientist and, in 1927, appointed him an assistant professor of Zoology. Ascending the professorial ladder as if it were just so many vertebrae, he became associate professor in 1929 and a full professor and chairman of the department in 1930--at age 35.

More challenging than Crustacea, Amphibia, or nerve processes is Leverett House, with Hoadley calls "the most complicated organism on earth." He has been intensely interested in the house since his appointment as Master in 1941. Reserved informality characterizs Hoadley's attitude: he likes at once the easy formality of sherry parties and the complete informality of chatting with students over a cup of coffee. Leverett students think of their housemaster as a warm, friendly man, who knows every student in the House.

Standing in the rain to watch a house hockey game, getting "everybody out" for a football game, encouraging concentration dinners; in short, Hoadley constantly pushes every sort of house activity. But if he beats drums within the House, he keeps the noise within the House. Discounting the idea that Leverett suffers the fate of a catch-all, he can name four varsity captains from his House this year. He can also point out that three members of his house staff recently won Guggenheim fellowships, saying with a proud smile, "My staff is superb." Actually, his own modesty--which keeps him from talking about aids he personally has given to needy students--seems to have guided house publicity. "We don't blow horns," he says. "May-be that's what we should do."

Away from his biological studies and his house activities, Hoadley enjoys retiring in the summer to his New Hampshire home with his wife and family. There he fishes for freshwater trout, and hunts birds, deer, foxes, rabbits, and partridge.

Even hunting, though, he lets his good nature control the trigger. When he first got a good bead on a deer, he just "stood and watched her go." Because--whether it is amoebae, deer, trout, or Leverett men--Professor Hoadley enjoys living organisms.