Clinging to bright pink wastebaskets with what little strength they could muster, the inflicted laid on the floor of University Health Services, hoping their stomachs had finally settled.

Sandip Prasad '98 still vividly remembers lumbering into University Health Services (UHS) at about 8:45 p.m., reeling with stomach pain, ready to be sick and hoping for some attention. Instead, he found a crowd of his peers who, strangely enough, shared the same problem.

"I walked in to see our entire class puking in buckets," he says.

Such was the memory many seniors have of a fateful evening in December 1994 when--suddenly and cruelly unannounced--the Norwalk virus attacked.

More than 150 victims, mostly first-years, somehow made it to an overcrowded UHS, where the lucky received hospital beds and others swooned in the hallways. Scores more never made it into UHS, receiving makeshift care from any healthy friend they could find.

There are those Harvard classes of the past who, when reminiscing about the college years, recall times of war and protest. Stories still float buoyantly around campus about days of old, when University Hall was taken over by a feisty student body, or when those on campus actually read a newspaper every morning because a war was raging in Europe.

During the four years that the Class of 1998 populated campus, there have been no events of such grandeur. Still, many say, those graduating today don't make up just another Harvard class.

Events such as the infamous first-year plague, a western-style shootout in the Square, the admissions saga of Gina Grant and the bizarre murder-suicide in Dunster House made for an impressionable first year.

Those who remain on campus permanently--house masters, tutors and dining hall staff--also say they saw something special in the class of 1998, and don't have to think hard to find ways in which the group will be remembered after they are gone.

Shared Experiences

From day one of the Class of 1998's first year, it seemed, bizarre interrup- tions in the normal ebb and flow hinted thatthe class would see some strange twists in itsquest to enjoy the fruits of a Harvard education.

In late November, when many in this class werestill adapting to the rigors of ExpositoryWriting, the University suddenly announced thatPresident Neil L. Rudenstine would be taking anextended leave of absence due to severe fatigueand exhaustion.

The high-profile president's two-month leaveconcluded just as Newsweek magazine shined aspotlight on Harvard, plastering Rudenstine's faceon its front page to play up an article on thestrains of the college presidency in this day andage.

And for the months to follow, the spotlightrarely left for long. On Dec. 7, a quiet Tuesdaynight in the slow time between Thanksgiving andChristmas, the Norwalk virus hit its first wave ofvictims, as first-years from Canaday toPennypacker quickly became ill.

As a precaution, the Freshman Union--where manybelieved the virus was born--shut down for severalmeals and switched to plastic utensils and bottleddrinks. Many students had to skip the winterSocial Analysis 10: "Principles of Economics"midterm the following afternoon.

But not all. Elizabeth A. Haynes '98 recalls(not too fondly) calling her Ec-10 teaching fellowfrom UHS and hearing him explain that having anI.V. in her arm did not give her the right to amake-up midterm. Instead, she could choose to skipthis test and have her final count for more.

For a first-year who had never taken a collegeexam, the possibility of a mega-final wasnone-too-appealing, Haynes says, and she stumbledout of UHS, a pink Band-Aid covering the placewhere the fluid drip went into her arm.

"It was the worst health experience and theworst academic experience of my life, all rolledinto one," she says.

On Feb. 23, a state police helicopter hoveringabove the Charles River plummeted 400 feet fromthe sky, crashing into the Harvard Yacht Club,home of the undergraduate sailing team. While theonly casualties were the four passengers, Harvardgrandmothers across the country panicked as thenational media reported the accident as if tosuggest that an aircraft had hit a building oncampus.

Just one week later, bullets flew through acrowded Harvard Square as an armored car drivertried to choke an attempted heist. The onlyvictims of his gunfire were two of the assailants.But the March 2 shootout made it an eventfulafternoon for passerby.

"I was just walking out of a gate atWigglesworth when I heard the shots go off,"recalls Guy V. Cimbalo '98. "I hungaround...stupidly I guess."

April was dominated by the Gina Grant debate.The young woman had been offered early admission,but her acceptance was quickly rescinded when theFAS Standing Committee on Undergraduate Admissionsreceived word that Grant had killed her mother in1990.

The national media followed these developmentsalmost obsessively until word was leaked thatGrant had lied to her alumni interviewer. Grantwent to Tufts University, but the spotlight didnot follow her to Somerville.

The eventful year ended on a tragic note when,on May 28, Sinedu Tadesse '96 fatally stabbed herDunster House roommate, Trang P. Ho '96, 45 timesand then took her own life by hanging herself inthe shower.

Victor Chiappa '98 was Tadesse's lab partnerthat year. In a recent interview, the senior saysthat incident gave him some reason to ponder overhis first college summer.

"You develop roommate trust, especiallyfreshman year, when it is the first time on ourown," he says. "When you hear about something likethat, it just throws off everything you've builtin your mind."

Like many in his class, Chiappa says his firstyear was a wild ride.

"One day you wake up and all your friends areill, another day your friend is walking throughthe Square and there's a shootout," he says. "Itmade our parents ask, `Where the hell are you?'"

Getting Down to Business

The Undergraduate Council's spring session of1995 was winding down in typical fashion. Anotherscandal had arisen--not unusual for a group thathad seen accusations of everything fromballot-stuffing to embezzlement over the previousyears--and as usual, a group of war-hawks from thejunior and senior classes was pushing for theimpeachment of the council president.

The First-Year Caucus--a group that gainedcohesiveness with the entry of the Class of1998--was not yet ensconced in the bitter partisanstruggle being waged above. It had other things onits mind, from finding ways to give student groupsthe money they wanted to pushing for popularelections of council officers.

After a week of bitter infighting, proceduraldebates and calculated leaks of "secretdocuments," the proceedings finally came to thefloor of the council at its Sunday night meetingin its old Harvard Hall stomping grounds. Asdebate was about to get good, Philip R. Kaufman'98, backed by fellow first-years, moved to tablethe question: there was other business to attendto.

Much business has been attended to since acrossthe boards of numerous student organizations.

The council got its popular elections. PhillipsBrooks House Association, after years of intensefighting with the College, has entered into aperiod of relative stability with theadministration. Even The Harvard Crimson finallymanaged to begin free distribution to allundergraduates after years of internal debate.

The true story of the Class of 1998 is not oneof upheaval and protest; there have been noseachanges in the institution in the past fouryears.

Instead the class has seen countless smallchanges, minor but significant steps altering lifeon campus. Anonymous HIV testing came to UHS.There was a drastic increase in the number of bluelights and safety phones on campus. College-fundedrape aggression defense classes were initiated.The MAC finally got more equipment. Shuttles beganto run more frequently. And a library was openedall night during reading and exam periods.

Perhaps the most significant change in Harvardlife, however, had little to do with the voice ofstudents. As the Class of 1998 ended its firstyear, former Dean of the College L. Fred Jewett'57 announced that subsequent classes would havetheir upperclass housing determined at random, notby the non-ordered choice system that had been inplace since the early '80s.

Randomization attracted an initial protest. TheUndergraduate Council urged the new Dean of theCollege, Harry R. Lewis '68, to review the effectsof the policy after three years. And as the lastnon-randomized seniors are about to leave, thepolicy has attracted criticism from minoritycommunities who allege that the policy hashindered their ability to provide supportingenvironments for their members.

Still, according to Leverett House Master JohnE. Dowling '57, it is not at all clear that thesky has fallen on the house system in the wake ofrandomization. In fact, Dowling says the currentmodel is probably closer to the "microcosms of theCollege" that former president A. Lawrence Lowell,Class of 1877, envisioned when he created thehouses nearly 80 years ago.

"I don't think it's made any difference,"Dowling says. "Year after year, I would haveseniors come up to me and say, `I didn't want tobe here, but it's been the best experience of mylife."

"I really think it is important that studentslearn from one another. Almost everyone comes froma more homogeneous environment than here," headds.D-