Aida K. Press '48 was the Director of Public Information for Radcliffe for many years until her retirement in 1993. She has many fond memories of her undergraduate days, particularly of Radcliffe, which she says provided a comfortable niche for women of her generation.

We entered Radcliffe in the middle of World War II and graduated after the end of the war. We believed that the newly-formed United Nations and the annihilating power of the nuclear bomb would guarantee an end to war forever. Our loved ones who had survived the war were returning home. It was a time of boundless optimism.

It was not unusual for members of my class to marry while at school especially if we had a boyfriend who was going overseas. Sprouting an engagement ring before graduation was an enviable mark of accomplishment, and several members of our class immediately exchanged academic gowns for wedding gowns, presumably to live happily ever after. I married Newton Press '48, who was in the naval officer training program at Harvard, at the end of my junior year.

As Radcliffe students, we felt we had the best of all possible worlds: We were a small women's community in the midst of a large, very exciting university. We applied to Radcliffe, we were admitted to Radcliffe, we had Radcliffe deans who advised--and sometimes chastised--us. We studied in the Radcliffe Library in the Radcliffe Yard, wrote for the Radcliffe News, acted in Idler, sang in the Radcliffe Choral Society and lived in women-only dorms in the Radcliffe Quadrangle.

If we were within commuting distance of the college, we had to live at home to accommodate the WAVES, the women's branch of the Navy, which was being trained at Harvard. I never regretted not living in the dormitory. At home, I was not subject to parietal rules that required me to be in by 10 p.m. on weeknights, with a few late-night privileges on the weekend each month. I did, however, have to face an irate mother and father if I came home much after midnight.

We had separate Radcliffe athletic facilities in the Radcliffe gym, a separate health center and a separate student employment office. But we were taught by Harvard professors, and except for first-year survey courses, we went to Harvard classes with Harvard men in Harvard buildings. The presence of women in Harvard classes was so new that professors and section men didn't know quite what to do with us. They never took our attendance, they never assigned us seats. We therefore sat wherever there was an empty seat, often in the back of the classroom, sometimes, on the floor.

It never occurred to me, or my classmates, that the absence of women professors or instructors was strange. Occasionally a very bright Radcliffe doctoral student would be a section woman, and a highly accomplished woman Ph.D. would be an instructor. I had two section women, one in economics and one in psychology, and a woman tutor. In co-ed sections, we were rarely called on and we rarely offered an opinion. I didn't think there was anything strange about that, either.

Even though we were ostensibly fighting a war for democracy, there was only one black student in our class, and a quota system limited the number of Jewish students at Harvard and Radcliffe.

Some instructors were openly hostile to women. Not being of the scientific bent, I was thrilled to discover that I could meet my scientific requirement with a course in geography. I had been warned that Mr. Kemp, the instructor, was a rabid misogynist, but I couldn't believe that a university as prestigious as Harvard would tolerate such a thing. So two of my friends and I signed up for the course. Mr. Kemp took an instant and immediate dislike to my two friends. He would call them "sister," openly disparage what they said in class, and gave one of them a D. Knowing of Mr. Kemp's reputation, the Radcliffe dean allowed my friend to take a fifth course the following term to make up her failing grade. I don't know whether the Radcliffe administration, headed by President Wilbur K. Jordan, a Harvard professor, ever confronted the Harvard administration for tolerating such blatant sexism, but I never heard that Mr. Kemp was reprimanded, nor that he changed his classroom style.

I managed to receive a passing grade in his class, thanks to sixth-grade geography, where I learned about convection currents. Whenever Mr. Kemp called on me, which, thankfully, was rarely, I answered "convection currents." It always seemed to be the right answer.

The fact that we had a man for president of Radcliffe did not seem unusual to us. I suppose I must have met President Jordan a few times, but I don't remember having any contact with him at all. The women deans, Mildren Sherman, Kathleen Elliott and Wilma Kirby-Miller, seemed to be running the undergraduate show.

The war did have several advantages. Since many of the professors were in the armedservices, Harvard called back retired professorslike Professor McIlwain, who taught politicaltheory with great relish, and Professor Merriman,a passionate devotee of English history. Mostintimidating was Professor William YandellElliott, who shuttled back and forth to Washingtonas adviser to former presidents Roosevelt andTruman. Philosophy Professor Demos, who introducedme to Plato and Aristotle, seemed to be kin to theGreek philosophers. My favorite was the younginstructor Louis Hartz, who later became a fullprofessor of government. From him I learned aboutthe theory of democracy, which has stood me ingood stead as a life-long liberal.

There were always plenty of young men on campustraining to be army or navy officers. We Radcliffegirls (we were called girls in those days; it tookseveral decades for undergraduates to become knownas women) did our patriotic duty by running FridayJolly-up dances with the young uniformed men atHarvard.

Since silk was being diverted to parachutes, weendured thick cotton lisle stockings instead ofsilk, unless we had a boyfriend who could buy ussilk stockings at the PX. Most of us opted forsaddle shoes and bobby sox. We wore genteelknee-length skirts, with tailored white blousesand baggy wool sweaters. Never were we allowed towear slacks to class unless there was a ragingblizzard outside.

In fact gentility seemed to be the watchword ofour four years. We had regular teas to which wewore black dresses, white gloves, and little blackhats. Each one of us was required to pour. Since Icame from a background where tea was dispensedeither from a tea pot or a tea kettle, I was notprepared for the samovar used at formal teas. Whenmy turn came to pour, I was horrified to discoverthat moving the lever right or left failed to stemthe tide of tea. Just as my first poured cup wasabout to rise over the top, a dean rushed over andpushed the lever to the shut-off position in themiddle. This information has subsequently been ofno use to me whatsoever.

Gentility also applied to parts of the bodythat could or could not be bared in public. Muchto my surprise, one spring day, I discovered thatin addition to all the commonly accepted partsthat should not be bared, there were others that Ihad not been warned about. A classmate and I werehappily taking advantage of a surprisingly earlywarm day in April by sunning ourselves on thegrass in the Radcliffe Yard without shoes andsocks. We were soon confronted by a messenger fromDean Cronkhite, whose office overlooked the Yard,warning us that exposing bare feet in public was agross violation of Radcliffe's code of behavior.We were ordered to reshoe immediately.

The Radcliffe Health Services were willing toplunge into the indecorous by offering advice onissues of sexuality, although such matters werenever discussed openly. Abortion as well ascontraceptive advice and devices were illegal inMassachusetts. Radcliffe's kindly women doctorswere willing to refer students to accommodatingdoctors off-campus for contraceptive advice.

Many of my classmates who answered thequestionnaire we sent out for the Radcliffe 50threunion book wished that Radcliffe had worriedmore about our future than our decorum. Sixty-fourpercent found fault with the almost nonexistentcareer counseling. The main advice that we weregiven at graduation was to take the secretarialcourse given in the summer by the Katherine GibbsSchool in the basement of Fay House. Defying thisindifference to our professional futures, a fewclassmates went to graduate school to becomedoctors, lawyers and academics, but most of usrepaired to the suburbs and became active membersof the PTA. Not until after our children were oldenough to go to school did many of us take upfull-time careers