Eliot House is among the top ten institutions in number of Rhodes Scholars since World War H.
ELIOT HOUSE dinner is an intricately choreographed affair. Everyone knows his cues, such as the CRIMSON editorial board member who advised me the first week that "none of the Right People in Eliot House dine before 6:00."
The dining hall doesn't officially open until 5:30, but by 5:20, all the Wrong People are munching away at their Broiled Pork Chops Or Alternate. Lorraine is squirting people with a squirt gun. The Wrong People talk about hockey and the Right People talk about English literature, but the scope of conversation at Eliot House dinner is always broad. The Wrong People encompass last night's House hockey game against Leverett, the Beanpot, and the Bruins. The Right People discuss who Professor Doe is sleeping with ("But I thought you knew-why that's the whole fun of taking John's course!"), what Professor Doe thinks of Ben Jonson, and who Ben Jonson slept with.
The whole west end of the dining hall is still fairly vacant, because it's 6:00, and with a minimum of flourishes, the Right People are about to enter.
Leading the procession is Master Heimert. To his left, senior tutor Peter Wood. To his right, Mrs. Wood-Anne-a tutor in, of all things, History and Lit. With a dignified belch, Heimert plunges through the jocks, dealing out a few appropriate obscenities- noblesse oblige. Peter Wood, a reformed jock himself, lingers a little longer. Everyone admires Anne Wood. The History and Lit types admire her mind. The preppies admire her bearing. The others admire her legs. ("When it comes to the Woods." says one of the literati with distaste, "some people can't see the forest for the trees.") Among her friends, Anne Wood is reknowned for the range of her knowledge about History and Literature, the History and Literature concentration, and the people in the History and Literature concentration.
By 7:00, most of the Right People have come and gone. Lorraine's squirt gun has run out of water. Heimert has run out of gas. Peter and Anne are lingering over a cup of coffee with a junior discussing Fellini. The preppies have gone to their clubs. The lesser jocks are at a House basketball game. Others are at Lamont (Poor guys, the jocks and the literati agree, when will they learn?). Eliot House has settled into evening. The grill will be open soon-how about a round of pinball around 10? Until then? Well, a short nap might be nice...
AND SO, as the sun sinks slowly over the MBTA car barn, we turn in our key to the superintendent and bid a fond farewell to Eliot House-knowing full well that, as we while away the semesters in Mather's split-level luxury, our thoughts will off return.