In his senior year, Henry R. Norr '68 had to turn down a fellowship for study at Cambridge University because he wouldn't have received a deferment from the draft.
"Between the escalation of the war and the assassinations of Martin Luther king and Robert Kennedy, one really had the feeling in those months that the whole world was unraveling," Norr says of the spring of 1968.
Norr, like many of his classmates, had the course of his life changed by the turbulent, wrenching events of the time.
Upon graduation, most students were greeted not by a comfortable post-collegiate life, but by difficult moral choices which could sometimes lead to violent death.
"[That spring] shook me loose from an academic track," says Norr. In order to avoid the war, he went to his medical exam with peace symbols painted on his underwear and antiwar slogans on his feet. After getting sent to a psychiatrist. Norr was deemed mentally unfit and received a medical deferment.
The members of the class of 1968 were faced with by decisions and situations, like Norr's which few other classes have had to face--the consequences of which have often impacted them for life.
"I haven't regretted [getting a medical deferment], but the thought that someone else had to fill my place possibly getting killed is a funny thing to carry around with you," Norr says.
The war didn't just change graduates' immediate plans: the life goals and ambitions of many were a direct product of the trying times that faced them upon graduation.
Classmate Michio kaku '68 was "part of a small, elite group of bright scholarship students" while an undergraduate.
Upon graduation he had to enter the U.S. Army because he was unable to obtain a deferment.
"My experience in the U.S. infantry left a deep, lasting impression on me, changing my world outlook. After my discharge. I began to organize against the Vietnam war," kaku wrote in the class report prepared for the 25th reunion.
Kaku says that if it hadn't been for the war, he probably would have ended up like many of his University colleagues, working at the Livermore weapons laboratory at Los Alamos designing third generation hydrogen warheads.
"I realized I had to be involved in social change," kaku says.
Instead, kaku pursued an academic track, teaching physics and working to complete the "super string theory," which seeks to unify and explain all physical forces.
Kaku speaks out against nuclear testing as a member of the National Advisory Board of National SANF/Freeze, the largest disarmament organization in the U.S.
"I have a mission in life: to stop the Star Wars program, nuclear weapons and energy, and help preserve the environment," wrote kaku.
Classmate Peter F. Hagerty also found himself in the military after graduation, on a World War ll-era destroyer heading for the Tonkin Gulf.
However, after he refused to fol Only months after this incident, that same ship blew up its forward gunmount, killing or blinding many members of the crew. "In order to forgive myself," says Hagerty, "I went and formed a legal organization called the Lawyers Military Defense Committee." This group went to Vietnam to defend soldiers being tried for different forms of protest against the war. The most common form of "protest" was the first-degree murder of officers, called "fragging." Among his experience in Vietnam was an encounter with a patrol of Viet Cong soldiers at a pagoda on the Mekong River. Hagerty wrote in the class report that he "spent four hours that night talking about baseball and girlfriends with a group of men who, just two years before, I had been trained to kill at close range." This experience taught Hagerty that "enemies can coexist and can transcend cultural and religious differences if they have a common ground." When Hagerty saw "The Day After" television movie in 1984, he became terrified by the prospect of nuclear war, but recollections of his experience in Vietnam gave him hope for improvement. Hagerty became inspired to try to do something about the Cold War threat by building an economic common ground. In 1985 he bought wool from a Soviet dealer as the first trade deal of his new company, "Peace Fleece," whose motto is "To build trust through trade." War Affects Women, Too Radcliffe women, faced with the same times but immune from the draft, have a somewhat different perspective and have been impacted less directly by the war. Rachel R. Lieberman '68, in fact, sees the Vietnam War not as a catalyst of social change as it seems to have affected some of her Harvard classmates, but rather as an impediment. "If the Vietnam War had not happened, there would have been more progress in civil rights," says Lieberman, "but we got sidetracked." "For better or for worse, I continue to feel a sense of hope," says Lieberman, "a sense that common sense will prevail, and that liberal ideals will continue." At her commencement, Lieberman spoke out against the Vietnam War. She was also involved in several demonstrations during her senior year. "I recall those as years of great hope and even inspiration," Lieberman wrote in the class report. Lieberman feels, however, that since Vietnam, "we've moved away from that notion, that the government can do good things for people." "People really wrestled with the sense that when they came to be of age, the government drained away with Vietnam the sense that one should do good," Lieberman says. Disillusionment Stephen M. Waters '68 may be an example of what Lieberman has observed, as someone who lost the hope of being able to influence the world through the government. Waters was a government concentrator at Harvard and was interested in the possibility of entering public office; today, however, he is an investment banker. "I had long thought myself of entering government, and did think that way in 1968, but it's discouraging to conclude that one couldn't really make a difference," Waters wrote for in class report." "The current system doesn't allow things to be done better," says Waters. "Interest group lobbying doesn't allow anything substantive to get done." Waters did, however, unlike many of his classmates, feel that he ought to fight in Vietnam and was in the Navy for three and a half years. "I would make the same choice again," Waters says. "The United States is a good place to live, and I thought I had to give something back." Rather than succumb to Waters complete skepticism, some have simply modified their opinions about how much difference individuals or the government can make. "I like to think I've kept those views," Norr says, referring to his radical activism in the late 1960s. "But I have also gotten more mature and realistic about what could get done." The War Wasn't Everything Although the war left none untouched, some have had their lives affected more profoundly by different sorts of changes. Arthur S. Lipkin '68, who is gay, says that "the biggest change in my life is coming to terms with my sexuality." Lipkin criticized Harvard because homosexuality was never referred to in any way in his classes. Lipkin has since learned that some of the very faculty members who taught him were gay. "It makes me very angry," Lipkin says. "I had no role models who were gay. They didn't send me the message that one could be a person of great accomplishments and be gay." Lipkin, who taught at Cambridge Rindge and Latin School for 20 years, now works at the Harvard Graduate School of Education as a research associate. He is currently developing curricula for high schools in gay and lesbian literature. A lucky few were able to graduate and proceed "according to schedule," developing their interests as undergraduates into professions. Robert D. Levin '68, now a professor of music and a concert pianist, came to Harvard having studied music extensively in Europe. In 1966, F. John Adams, director of the Glee Club asked Levin to complete an unfinished fugue from Mozart's Requiem mass. This led Levin to complete two other of Mozart's 50 incomplete pieces for his senior thesis in music. "If it were not for my Harvard thesis, a very important part of my life would probably be missing," Levin says. Since then, Levin has completed many more of Mozart's incomplete works, including the Requiem mass, which Mozart died writing. "Next year," Levin wrote, "I shall celebrate my twenty-fifth reunion by moving to Cambridge to become a Professor of Music at my almamater." Harvard Changes Anyone comparing Harvard 1968 to Harvard today will doubt less be struck by the changes The College has undergone, especially the increased student diversity and coeducation Members of the class of 1968 comment on the changes at Harvard, though, with both satisfaction and displeasure. James V. Baker '68, who was a star athlete at Harvard in track and cross country, qualifying for the Olympics in track, laments the fact that athletics aren't as well funded or as popular as they were in his time. "I regret that some of those (athletic) programs are having a harder time now," Baker says. "I was on a varsity team, and I ate lunch at the Varsity Club," Baker says. "We used to always fly wherever we went." "Athletics aren't attracting the numbers they used to," Baker says. Lieberman lauds the improved opportunities for students like her, both women and Jewish students. "For Jewish students, the growth of the Hillel must make the school a lot richer," says Lieberman, "and a lot better for those who want to live the Jewish life." "The fact that there are more women makes a lot of sense," says Lieberman. Radcliffe classmate Linda J. Greenhouse wholeheartedly agrees. "The opening up of undergraduate places to women is great. We were barely a critical mass then, and many opportunities were closed off to us," she says. "We couldn't even enter Lamont during my first two years," Greenhouse says. She describes the state of Radcliffe women at Harvard as "pervasive second-class citizenship." Greenhouse, a Crimson executive as an undergraduate, is presently the Supreme Court correspondent for The New York Times. Looking Back, Pros and Cons During a time as politically charged as the late sixties, a Harvard education seemed to many totally ignore important social and political issues. Many members of the class of 1968 complain of this one-sidedness which failed to teach them about the "real world." "There was no attempt to explain the social inequality in this country and in the world," Kaku says. "Hopefully, Harvard has become more plugged into reality." Hagerty says he "resented the Harvard experience because it didn't prepare me for the reality of how people treat each other in the real world." What most agreed on and praised Harvard for was the quality of the education, however one-sided. "I have a real appreciation for the education I got," Norr says. "But I still have a lot of criticism and a lot of distaste for [Harvard]." Kaku prizes the level of instruction he received. "I'll never regret the fact that I had a Nobel Prize winner teaching me physics as a freshman. You can't get that anywhere else," he says. A Class Grows Up The members of the class of 1968, whether torn by the war, or left to lead their lives as they wished, were deeply impacted by the events surrounding their year of graduation. "Our class graduated with a lot of ambivalent feelings," Greenhouse says. "We were more battered than idealistic." Some recent their Harvard experience because it failed to prepare them for the real world, but all praise their education. Most welcome the changes they have seen at Harvard, especially coeducation and increased diversity. For most, the last 25 years have served to settle them into their lives, giving them a new perspective on themselves and the world. "We are rather calmer and more upbeat today than then," Greenhouse says. "By the time someone is 40, they recognize what they are about. There is a certain coming to terms." In fact most members of the Class of 1968 have not only come to terms with their experiences, but have been able to accomplish outstanding things. "What people [from my class] have done is really admirable," Hagerty says.
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