On a recent Tuesday evening, I ate dinner courtesy of the Harvard College Fund. In the phonathon that followed, I managed to raise enough money from 1951 classmates to pay for the dinner, with some left over for future meals and other uses.

It has not always been thus. In this twice-a-year ritual of calling, I have often failed to raise funds sufficient for much more than a snack. Often I would gripe to myself that they had given me the dregs from the list; realistically, I also attributed these dismal results to my own weak salesmanship. This time, things started no better. Of the first dozen classmates I called, not one answered the telephone. Where were all those likely donors when I wanted them? To have nothing to show after a half-hour's work further depressed my already low expectations.

But this time, things picked up surprisingly. I got several guys to give $200 and one to up his contribution to $350. By my standards of salesmanship, that was not at all bad. I may not have come close to qualifying for the prize bottle of wine, but I could take the Harvard ball-point pen home without scruple. When classmates are home, it's usually not that bad. Most people treat the call as expected and appropriate. They've grown accustomed to the call: it's not like taking them away from the dinner table to sell them a new credit card.

In any event, chances are that you will catch them at dinner. Since Harvard grads, like so many other Americans, now eat anytime from 5:30 to 10 p.m., you can hardly avoid it. And dinnertime may be your most favorable opportunity--it either limits the length of your conversation or, conversely, renders people more likely to chat.

Among my callees over the years, the only people whom I remember as nasty were a couple of Harvard faculty members. One distinguished scholar of English literature actually upbraided me for asking him to contribute. "Why should I be called?" he complained, as if I should have recognized that he was not like the rest of his classmates.

Some calls lead to extended and cordial conversations. I have often talked to an English Department member at a small Georgia college who somehow lacked the pretensions of his opposite number at Harvard. He and I (an English major) found ourselves to have many interests in common and he actually invited me to come visit him.

My most memorable experience connected with phonathons came, not during the actual calling, but the next day. During lunch with some friends at the Faculty Club, most of them retired faculty members and administrators, I shared with them an account of my efforts to raise money. To my consternation, a couple of them accused me of having engaged in a useless, if not harmful, activity. They made two main points: Harvard already has too much money; and the University wastes a lot of what it has.

The endowment has already reached $13 billion, far more than anybody else's, they argued. Who could ask for anything more? And, instead of spending it well, Harvard is using a lot of it for dubious purposes such as those fueled by political correctness. For having done what I considered a good deed, I was suddenly on the defensive. Was I a naif, unaware of what everybody on the inside knows, that Harvard is foisting on its alums a fund-raising scam? Perhaps those snooty Faculty classmates were right in ridiculing my expectation that they should be expected to contribute?

But, after taking time for recovery from shock, I replied to my antagonists with spirit. They had done me the favor of forcing me to make my reasons for calling explicit.

Among the reasons moving me to take on this not entirely congenial activity, two stand out. First, I want to make a gesture of thanks to an institution which continues to be awfully good to me. Most people do not realize the advantages of living near one's college. Just to mention one priceless perk, the university allows me to buy a Harvard College Library card for $10 a year (the over-age-65 rate). I get to choose among millions of books for my own research and leisure interests. I could also discuss other agreeable benefits such as a long-standing association with an undergraduate House and use of the athletic facilities.

Second, I believe in Harvard's policy of providing financial aid to students who come from families not able to pay full freight. I believe it is vital to get alumni support for this effort to secure economic and other diversity in the student body. To my mind, the best way to give young people a chance to escape from situations in which they cannot hope for a shot at professional opportunity and other social goods enjoyed by the members of the middle class is the kind of education offered by Harvard and other colleges of reputation. So that's why, despite some grief, I call classmates from time to time and ask for money.

Richard Griffin '51 is a member of the Quincy House Senior Common Room.