"Harvard has always offered its own ordeal, its own version of 'reality,' its own way of giving form to freedom--the contests in the classroom and elsewhere, where children of wealth compete to prove their excellence. Nobody who's 'got it made' has to strive for A's at Harvard, or go out for the varsity, or try for the lead in undergraduate plays, or 'comp' for the Crimson, or do much of anything except get by and get into the Porcellian Club. Everything is optional, as most things always will be for these children of the rich." Nelson W. Aldrich, Jr., author of Old Money: the Mythology of America's Upper Class.

Another typical evening. A group of perfectly groomed young gentlemen in dinner jackets stroll to their club for a brief bourbon. Tonight, the glittering ballroom of the cotillion is theirs for the taking. Silk gowns sway and champagne flows. The band thrills and the playboys survey the scene. The party swells. In the early morning hours, the gala subsides and the young men return to their lush apartments on Mount Auburn Street.

"It was the Gold Coast. The visible plumbing was solid gold. The doorknobs were pigeon-blood rubies. We were Gilded Youths who needed to have some of the gilt removed."

For these young men, four years at Harvard did not symbolize an opportunity to advance intellect. Rather, college was an extravagant joyride. At the turn of the century, one member of the Gold Coast, Donald Clark Henderson, reveled in this world of fabulous superfluity:

"I had a suite of three rooms: two bedrooms, study with fireplace, and bath, second floor front in Westmorely Court in Mt. Auburn Street. In the basement was the only swimming pool in Cambridge in those days. Boston newspapers referred to this neighborhood as the Gold Coast. The study proved to be an ideal spot for poker. The pool was a handy bit of moisture into which to dunk unsuspecting and slightly alcoholized guests, without bothering to remove their clothing--often white tie and tails and a two-quart hat. This seemed to have a sobering effect."

On the Gold Coast, students lived in the lap of luxury surrounded by all that money could buy. Local realtors jumped at the chance to rent exclusive apartment houses on Mt. Auburn Street catered to the needs of the extremely wealthy. Claverly Hall, Apley Court and Randolph Hall and Westmorely Court (today, part of Adams House) housed the College's rich kids. These students were the members of the social clubs, the clientele of the mirrored bars and marbled restaurants of downtown Boston and the owners the flashy Mercedes and Renaults parked along Mt. Auburn.

Harvard playboys were fascinating creatures. Living in opulent Claverly Hall or Westmorely Court, these young men led lives of constant gayety--and all of America watched them.

The boys of the Gold Coast were members of the elite--well-dressed, well-bred and well-endowed. Their world was classic yet cosmopolitan, restrained yet debaucherous. Henderson writes:

"I again was conscious of the brilliant and thrilling spectacle--the lovely young girls in furs with flowers, undergraduates in bearskin and coonskin greatcoats, graduates, many with wives, many with bright-eyed sons and daughters and grandchildren, all wearing crimson, most of them waving banners, giving forth the unforgettable scents of a great Eastern football classic-odor of healthy flesh nipped by late November chill, perfume of flowers, perfume of perfume, perfume of feminine hair, sharp tang of Egyptian cigarette fumes, clean breath of bourbon, smell of furs--chanting roar of cheers, of thousands of male voices raised in enthralled song, shrill feminine screams of sheer ecstasy."

Meanwhile, Henderson's cohort, the Prince of India, enshrouded in silks and jewels, lounged in his rooms in Westmorely Court.

The social throng of the Gold Coast would go from spot to spot in Boston--to the best and most expensive locales to meet other young persons of quality. When in the luxurious atmosphere of their rooms, boys parted with exorbitant amounts of money to continue their high stakes reveling far into the night. Many Golden Youth kept scrapbooks of their social lives during the turn of the century--records of parties and club dinners and inordinate activities. They saved: scrolled Hasty Pudding invitations, silk-tasseled dance cards for exclusive parties, gold engraved menus for Porcellian dinners boasting aged port as an aperitif, festooned playbills, thick opera programs and multitudinous cotillion invitations with summons to some of the most prestigious and exclusive clubs and hotels in Boston. William Gibbons Morse, Class of 1899:

"Boston is near and while the custom of Boston Society of inviting an unknown list of sophomores to meet their daughters at their debutante dances is not an unmixed blessing for boys engrossed in studies, neither is it an unmixed evil. This training does not make for good manners, tending to make a snob of an impressionable boy, who learns to think that he has been sought after by a social Boston of which he does not altogether approve, of which he may even be a bit contemptuous. Yet it does open a door for a needed contact with girls; it is possible for the not-too-shy man to call and make friends."

But for some students at the turn of the century, most doors were closed.

The Gold Coast was an exclusive club, and the Harvard administration had other priorities. In fact, rather than try and combat the social chasm between the rich and the poor, Harvard magnified the disparity by relegating the poorer students to the Yard. Living in the Yard meant many things: no heat, no running water and a strong feeling of social inferiority. This rooming system created a caste system within the student population.

In 1897, Scribner's Magazine recognized the overwhelming elitism felt among the fraction of Gilded Youth: