FOR ANDERS WEINSTEIN '83, being vale edictoriem in high school was a serious matter. In the first place, he represented the student body of one of New York's most prestigious schools, stuyvesant And Carnegic Hall, the location of the ceremonies, could inspire the awe of even the most poised performer. So as Weinstein strode to the podium to begin his speech, he was understandably nervous. Even his closest friends were not then sure he would go through with the routine as planned.

Frankly, when Anders was just about to begin. I was sure he would do it straight," says Chris Librie, now a senior at the University of Pennsylvania. "Then, he bent down behind the podium, put on the Groucho Mars fake nose, glasses and moustache and right away got a standing ovation."

Much to the amusement of several thousand students, alumni and faculty members. Weinstein finished his speech and got another ovation. What followed, though, was unplanned. Principal Gaspar Fabriquante, obviously embarrassed by Weinstein's presentation, tried to make a joke of it. "There must have been something in the water he drank." Fabriquante explained. At which point Weinstein, seated on stage, tell off his chair as it in a dead faint. Everyone watching knew it was an act--everyone that is except for the Nobel laureate alumnus seated behind Weinstein. "The guy jumped up and started frantically examining Anders to make sure he was all right," recalls Libric. "You couldn't have asked for a better set up."

Weinstein says he went through with his act to inject a little humor into the usually drab graduation ceremony. And he explains. "Stuyvesant, which specializes in the sciences, is usually considered a nerdy school, and so the valedictorian is thought to be the biggest nerd of all I wanted to counter that impression."

Rumor has it that Fabriquante later tried to get Stuyvesant faculty to cosign a letter to Harvard stating that Weinstein was emotionally disturbed. No one agreed, though, and Weinstein ended up in Cambridge. "Anders was a brilliant student destined for great things," says Stuyvesant English Department Chairman William Ince. "But there was always a clown in him that had to get out."

AT HARVARD, that clown has made an appearance on more than one occasion. Weinstein certainly made a distinct impression on the audiences at the last two Quincy House talent shows. Two years ago, a football player was just about to carry him offstage when he ended his barrage of dead baby jokes. "Those weren't so bad," says Weinstein. "What really killed me was the one about Imple-the-pimple-sucker. One Quincy resident calls that performance "probably the most disgusting thing I've heard in my life."

Last year an apparently repentent Weinstein sat down at the piame to play a Joni Mitchell song. "A lot of you know me as one who resorts to poor taste for laughs. Well, I've changed and discovered flok music and I'd like to play you something that means a lot to me "Weinstein, an accomplished pianist, began a tendition of "Both Sides Now" playing the first verse straight. Then came a rewritten second verse featuring refences to personal hygiense and ses that were, to underlate cude. I thought the first year was bad, "syasaother House resident "Last year was the worst yet."

'Stuyvesant, which specializes in the sciences, is usually considered a nerdy school, and so the valedictorian is thought to be the biggest nerd of all. I wanted to counter that impression.'

Librie says Weinstein has "a penchant for doing things everyone else wants to do but doesn't have the guts to go through with." Still, it would be wrong to assume Weinstein's comedy is an all-out assault on taste. The philosophy major also plays trumpet for the marching band and does an occasional stand-up comedy routine that would probably get by even the most stringent censors.

"Anders provided a manic sense of humor for us when he was really active in past years," says band Drill Master Mike McClung '83. "Technically, he wasn't the greatest player, and indeed he was part of the infamous third trumpets who have the least complicated parts to play. But he managed to transcend his lack of musicality with his antics," adds former Stuyvesant classmate and fellow bandmember Millard Darden '83. "Most of the people in the band are just crazy and so is Anders. It was a perfect fit."

Weinstein recently put his stand-up act on display at an anti-draft rally near Memorial Hall. In between speeches and music, he came on and delivered a well-received series of one-liners in the Rodney Dangerfield mold. A brief sampling "Nancy Reagan, she's really a fine woman, bi: her idea of the Third World is J. C. Penney's. The post office is having problems with the Ronald Reagan stamp they just issued: people keep spitting on the wrong side." Most observers agree that Weinstein's delivery is very professional. "Anders steals more jokes than Milton Berle," says former roommate Tony DiNovi '84, "but he always adds a certain something to them that really makes them funny. That's a sign of talent."

It's true, says Weinstein, "that I steal jokes. But I have a very good memory and love to tell them." And he relishes the opportunity to get up and perform. "I'm available for hire if the Conservative Club wants me. No political distinctions here. And if Quincy House lets me perform at my last talent show this year. I can promise a very nice surprise."

According to DiNovi, Weinstein is funny "all the time, except when he sleeps, which is a lot." Friends from Stuyvesant and Harvard agree that Weinstein doesn't simply turn on for an audience. "Anders made us all laugh constantly," says Stuyvesant classmate Garret Harris, now a senior at Syracuse University. "He is probably the most naturally funny person I know. Besides, who else can you think of who owns both a Batman long tie and a bow tie."

LIBRIE CLAIMS Weinstein's interest in comedy goes back over a decade when local television began to show Monty Python reruns. "He was hooked by those," says Librie, "and then it was people like George Carlin and Danger field." At Stuyvesant, Weinstein, Librie and Harris produced a humor magazine called Vageuries" which, they all say, "is a bit like the Lampoon." Comedy as a profession is another matter. Although most of those who have seen him perform think he could succeed in show business. Weinstein is doubtful. "I'd love to give it a try, but I really don't think the talent is there."

'I plan to open a Philosophy shop, or more accurately shack, that will be called Ideas Are Us. Eventually, there will be a chain of them right across the country.'

While at Harvard, Weinstein has also flirted with the Lampoon comp and serious rock music. The problem with the Lampoon, he says, was the requirements. "I could just never seem to get around to handing in the half dozen articles required." As for rock, Weinstein enjoyed a brief stay with the Not. "It was fun but they used me as a singer which is clearly not my forte," says Weinstein. "After a while, it was obvious we all had different tastes." Adds Not member Tom I amont '83; "The problem with Anders was that he was too funny. He kept us laughing all the time."

Weinstein even finds humor in the prospect of finding a job after having majored in Philosophy. "Right now," he says. "I plan to open a Philosophy shop, or more accurately shack that will be called 'Ideas Are Us.'" Eventually, there will be a chain of them right across the country.

But faculty members in the Philosophy department are quite seriously calling him a genius. "Anders is without question one of the most gifted students we have," says one professor. Weinstein also, dabbles with computers: presently, he is a teaching fellow for Applied Sciences II.

When Weinstein gets serious, he even reflects on why he's usually so funny. "I suppose I'm trying to find a way to postpone adulthood," he says. "Which explains to a degree why I haven't been really happy here at Harvard People are too intent on being adults."