I'm going to tell you how its going to be, the UC's going to bring the Dead to me. Here is a concert proposal so sound, so foolproof, that not even the people so skilled in election fraud can louse it up. Never mind that Adam Sandler cost Trinity students only five dollars, even though their school is half the size of ours. Never mind that the U.C. transformed the popular De La Soul into a financial fiasco. Because not even the gang that couldn't vote straight can mess up a Grateful Dead concert.

The beauty of this proposal is that its success does not hinge on the competency of the U.C or the interest of the Harvard student body; the show will sell out regardless, because the demand for tickets is there. The Grateful Dead are the top-grossing concert act in rock history. On the road for over 25 years, they perennially top year-end concert receipt lists. They sold out six shows at the Boston Garden in the fall of 1991, drawing more than 90,000 people. And in the fall of 1992, they cancelled the same number of shows due to Jerry Garcia's illness.

The Dead consistently sell out venues much larger than Harvard Stadium on their summer tours. This year, their entire spring tour was sold out, and they had to add two shows in New York to meet the huge demand for tickets. The fact that the entire New England area was omitted from the spring tour, coupled with the unmet demand stemming from last year's cancelled shows, means that more than 90,000 fans would probably be willing to buy tickets.

To ensure that Harvard students would get good seats, the U.C. could reserve a block of tickets on the field that they could then sell to students at no more than face value. In the tragic event that Harvard students showed little interest, the remainder of the block could be turned over to Grateful Dead Ticket Sales, Inc--The Dead's mail order service--which could then feed the leftovers to the ravenous national appetite for Jerry and the Boys. Hence, even if the student body showed sub-De La Soul levels of interest, nothing would be lost except the opportunity to see the only band that is musically different every single night it plays.

In addition to a windfall in gate receipts, a Dead concert would afford the U.C. unparalleled opportunities for secondary profit. Deadheads costumes harken back to the counterculture of the 1960s; ironically, the group's performances are also one of America's last bastions of true laissez-faire capitalism; you can buy or sell any thing outside a Dead show. Unlike virtually all other major rock acts, The Dead place no restrictions on who can sell merchandise.

The U.C. could corner the prodigious T-shirt market by printing up some witty combination of the Harvard crest and skeletons, roses, and/or Uncle Jerry. As we all know from the overabundance of pencils, underwear and ovenmitts bearing the Harvard insignia at the Coop, the "Veritas" greatly enhances the value and desirabltity of any item. These T-shirts would sell by the thousand at a huge profit for the U.C. The money would continue to roll in.

The U.C would also profit by providing concessions for the tens of thousands who would attend. The strenuous activity endemic to a Dead concert--dancing and the intake of substances both legal and illegal--tends to induce a huge collective hunger. The U.C., if equipped properly, could meet and profit from this demand for food. And Dead-heads' tastes are simple. They only desire plenty of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, bagels with cream cheese, and lots of orange juice; they're here to listen, not to eat. With a jumbo-sized trip to the supermarket and a small amount of preparation, the U.C. could enlarge its coffers substantially and alliviate a massive case of the munchies in one fell swoop.

The Dead would play here because it would be profitable, of course. Harvard Stadium is centrally located, unlike Foxboro Stadium. And The Dead could draw about as many people in one show in Allston as they could in four shows at the Garden. And they have always enjoyed playing at colleges and universities around the globe; they even played a benefit concert at the University of Oregon to save that school's financially strapped performing arts department.

An invitation from Harvard would appeal to the same spirit that drew the band to Egypt in 1978 to play at the great pyramids at Giza; whether or not the Egypt adventure would guarantee financial success. The Dead were willing to do the concert because it had never been done before, I have a feeling that the Grateful Dead would jump at the chance to play at the nation's oldest and most prestigious institution for reasons beyond mere monetary expediency.

There is also the issue of pride. To the best of my knowledge, the Dead have never played at Harvard. The closest they have ever come was a concert on a bitter May after noon at Kresge Plaza at MIT in 1970. Some of the best live performances in my collection of bootlegged tapes are from Princeton and Cornell. And last month alone they played several shows at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I for one, refuse to believe that Harvard--which tops the U.S. News and World Report list, after all--is destined to be forever outdone by these schools. We must even the score with the MIT and the other lvies that have hosted the band. We must have the Grateful Dead here at Harvard.

Ironically enough, a Dead Concert would have educational benefit, providing a perfect opportunity for field work. Anthropology concentrators would be fascinated by the rituals and organized religions that have sprung up around the country's most historically innovative band. Economics professors would marvel at these seemingly non-goal-oriented members of society, amazed by Deadheads' ability to financially sustain themselves and their journeys around the country. And sociology students would be astounded by the strange social and arrangements that loyal fans create: Makeshift families form regularly as fans seek transportation, shelter, and the assurance that they will make it to the next show.

Finally, a visit by the band and its followers would do immeasurable good for Harvard's atmosphere. Judging from the results of the Luntz poll, this campus is in dire need of a night of collective wild abandon--chemically, psychologically and socially. And what better catalyst than a visit by the Grateful Dead and their thousand-footed, brilliantly colored entourage?

Encountering people who are not worried about housing assignments, theses, or MCATS will do the average Harvard soul a tremendous amount of good. The U.C. could use the money and a boost for its faltering image. But as the Luntz poll proves, the real reason to have the Grateful Dead here stems from a much more primal motivation--even Harvard needs to have one really large party.