Back then, first-years didn't have to make the tortuous two minute walk to the Science Center to get their mail--in the glory days of ordered choice and a legal drinking age of 18, those carefree pampered students merely had to step out of their room to the entrance of their dormitory, where each student had his or her own mailbox. Finally the postal workers got tired of all that trekking and ordered the University to build a central mailing center.

McClary thinks in terms of only one thing--packages, when comparing Harvard students to those of decades past. "I guess the major difference is what was necessary to bring to Harvard is a lot more than what it was in the '70s. I think the computer is a major part of it," McClary says. He recalls that in 1977, the mail center received an average of 40 to 45 packages a day for first-years. Now, 20 years later, the average is 125 to 150 a day, and that's after move-in period. During move-in period the mail center can receive up to 300 packages a day. Between the approximately 1,700 mailboxes (don't forget proctors), the mail center receives about 30,000 packages over the course of a single academic year.

Of all the packages McClary has seen come in and out of the Science Center, there's one in particular he remembers (aside from the harp in a seven-foot-tall wooden crate, delivered to a student in the orchestra). Back in the mid '90s, during the Unabomber scare, "we had a package for a freshman delivered here, and it was ticking," says McClary. He immediately called the Harvard police, "because this was when we were getting all these warnings about bomb threats and everything." HUPD subsequently called the Cambridge Police. After trying unsuccessfully to reach the student to whom the package was addressed, the police exploded the package purposefully, right outside the Science Center, on the loading docks on Oxford Street. "You know what was in there?" McClary asks. "A musician's metronome." Surely the police should have known that the Unabomber wouldn't bomb his own alma mater.

THAT SEATTLE'S BEST COFFEE GUY

Many students, after receiving a pitiful grade on a paper or problem set, go to the Seattle's Best Coffee Cart in front of the Greenhouse in the Science Center to have their spirits buoyed by an Italian soda or espresso. After meeting the infectiously friendly employee Wernher Prudent, they usually leave with a smile on their face no matter what the coffee tastes like.

Thirty-nine year-old Prudent has been working for Harvard since 1991--it is his renowned friendliness that brought him here. He first came to the United States from Port-au-Prince, Haiti, in 1981 to attend Northeastern. After graduating with a degree in electronics in 1985, he could not find a job in his field of study, and so ended up working for the flagship Au Bon Pain in Harvard Square. He worked there for five years, and every morning, Harvard University administrator Patrick Elridge, of the Human Resources department, came in to get a cup of coffee. "He was observing me, and he told me that 'coming here every morning, seeing you, makes me happy,'" Prudent says. "He said to me, Wernher, one day I'm going to give you a job."

The promise came true and Prudent began working for Harvard in 1991. Initially, he served food and drinks at the Observatory Cart, a coffee cart similar to the Seattle's Best Coffee cart in the Science Center. Then after a year he was assigned to the newly renovated Greenhouse Cafe. He worked there mainly as a cashier, until 1994, when the SBC cart was installed. Prudent was sent to Seattle for training for 10 days and when he returned he was put in charge of the SBC cart. Since then, he's been impressing students with his speed and expertise on the job and the outgoing, jovial manner in which he does it. "I like the way he says 'short mocha, no whip,'" says Triada Stampas '98. "I just like the phrase, and I like how it comes out with his accent." Michele M. Lee '99 says that "He's entertaining. He seems like a really good businessman." Matt S. Caywood '99 adds, "He's very upbeat. He's one of those people who turns a repetitive job into an outlet for creativity." All of this praise is no surprise to Prudent. "They say, Wernher, you are the best, because you work very fast," he proudly admits.

Prudent credits his mother for instilling in him three rules that have led to his friendliness, and thus, his success. "Since I was a kid I was told that there are rules you've always got to use, say hello to someone and say thanks...this is basic in my life," says Prudent. Also, "if you want to get along with someone, remember his or her name. When you remember someone's name, you can always relate to them." In fact, while elaborating this point, a student who graduated in 1994 approached Prudent and greeted him warmly--Prudent remembered her name right away. He says this happens often. "Sometimes faces I don't even remember, they come all the time, to make me understand that they appreciate my way of treating them," Prudent claims.

Prudent's rosy demeanor can also be attributed to his religion; he is a Jehovah's Witness. He is an elder in his congregation and spends much time preaching, counseling people and proselytizing door-to-door. Besides his job, most of his time is devoted to his religion. "It helps me in many ways of life, knowing what to do, what I don't have to do...it helps me know my limits, and how I should treat my peers," Prudent says. "The general outlook of myself is soundly related to the Bible...because knowing Jehovah, it's a source of joy." His religion also contributes to his outgoing manner--since childhood he been trained to greet and speak with people. "I consider dealing with the public one of my strongest points, because as a Witness, I always face the people, all the time," says Prudent. In fact, he still goes door-to-door in Cambridge, Waltham, Watertown, Belmont and Brighton.

Sadly, Prudent has never returned to Haiti, where his parents and siblings still live. "Politically, things are not the way they were before I came here. It is a chaotic situation back there now. I think it is much wiser not to go."

THAT "SPARE SOME CHANGE, MA'AM" LADY

What could be nicer than a calm, slow stroll down Mass. Ave on any afternoon? Only a block away from the Square, amidst the scenery and intent upon the hum of traffic...wait, what's that noise? Faintly audible in the distance, a sound at a piercing frequency invades the ear of every passer-by. You keep on walking, hoping the sound will relent and let you go, but still it persists--over and over and over. And then you see her. As her lips open and she begins again the punishment, you understand..."Change? Sir, ma'am, please?"

There are few people on campus more recognized by name and none more recognized by sound. Yes, there is no question that this woman is an indisputable landmark in Harvard Square. Her presence elicits varying sentiments--"She's a pillar of Harvard Square," Jay S. Chaffin '01 comments, while Adela Acevedo '01 insists "She's annoying as hell." No one really knows much--it had come high time to answer the often-voiced question: "What's her deal?"

Though rumors abound based on personal interactions, sightings and just plain hearsay, it was decided that before the students had their say, this woman would get her chance. However, despite a polite, straightforward introduction, a handshake and an offer of food and hot beverage at ABP, the 'Spare Change Sir Ma'am' Lady refused to be interviewed. Explaining that she "only leaves [her] spot to use the bathroom and use the phone," she could not be coaxed to warmth and coffee, nor could she be persuaded to tell all right there on the street. Smiling throughout the encounter, she spared few words but stuck to her guns--no dice. So without a primary source of facts, this segment took a turn towards the infinitely less journalistic, yet infinitely more entertaining, world of student gossip. And when in search of gossip on the 'Spare Change' Lady, what better place to go than to her neighbors: Wigglesworth.

There exists a lot of animosity towards the Spare Change Lady within the Western entryways of Wigg. From fact to fiction, these students have plenty to say and are happy to share all. However, the most pressing on everyone's mind was the issue of her voice. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Tim D. Deardourff '01 explains that "It permeates through our walls...not cars, not tourist buses with millions of people, but her voice..." Acevedo, when asked to explain why it bothers her, exclaims "you don't live here! Her voice bounces off of Boylston and into our room--it's hyper-loud, and you can't get away from it." All have their own versions of "the voice," but it's always the same quote--"Spare Change? Sir? Ma'am?"