This is the first part of a two-part article. A link to the second part is at the end of this article. For an explanation of the reporting process behind this story, click here.
At about 6 a.m. on May 13, 1920, Mary Wilcox smelled gas. She immediately identified the source of the fumes: the bedroom of her son, Cyril B. Wilcox, Class of 1922.
Mary had reason to be worried about Cyril, who, unlike his older brother George L. Wilcox ’14, seemed constantly to get into trouble. Cyril was far from an academic success at Harvard. In April of his freshman year, the Administrative Board placed him on probation for a month. And then, after a miserable showing on his finals—five Es, two Cs, a B and a pass—he was suspended. After a grueling few months at summer school, though, Cyril convinced the Ad Board to readmit him.
Things began to fall apart again in the spring of Cyril’s sophomore year. “Wilcox seems to me to be a bright enough chap, but he doesn’t study apparently,” his adviser wrote to Assistant Dean of the College Edward R. Gay on March 3, 1920.
When Wilcox received a mid-year record of three Ds, a C and an E, Gay was direct in his threat. “This will, I fear, be your last opportunity to make good at Harvard,” he wrote to Wilcox on March 17, “for if your grades in April fail to meet the requirements, the Board could do nothing but request you to withdraw.”
His future hinged on the April examinations—but Cyril Wilcox never took them. At the beginning of April, right before the crucial tests, he showed up at the office of Professor of Hygiene Robert I. Lee, Class of 1902, with a bad attack of urticaria, commonly known as hives.
“It is apt particularly to occur in nervous people, and in people who are under a nervous strain,” Lee wrote to Gay on April 13. “Wilcox tells me that after his urticaria was largely over he rather went to pieces nervously, and had what may be best described as an hysterical attack. That fits in with the picture very well. He lost his hour examinations and is quite upset about his work. His mother wants to take him home for a rest. I certainly agree that he should go home and get himself straightened out nervously.”
Later that day the Ad Board allowed Cyril Wilcox to withdraw from Harvard College due to “ill health.” He never returned to Cambridge.
From his family home in Fall River, Mass., Cyril wrote several letters to Gay, trying to determine the best possible way to salvage his academic career at Harvard. “Would it be possible for me to return this year, as Dr. Lee suggested, in case I feel equal to it?” his April 15 letter begged Gay. “If not, what stand would I have to take on reentering in September? Is any of my work this year to count?”
Gay responded flatly: “I hardly feel that I ought to encourage you to try to come back this year.”
After Wilcox wrote another letter asking for credit for the 1919-1920 academic year, Gay told him that he could only receive credit for half of French I—and only if he took the second half of French I the following year.
The academic woes of her son must have been on the mind of Mary Wilcox as she headed towards 21-year-old Cyril’s bedroom, wondering why the room reeked of gas. Then she opened the door. Cyril B. Wilcox was dead.
The local paper, The Herald News, reported the next day that he was “asphyxiated by illuminating gas…the gas jet in the room was found partly open, and it had evidently been partly open the greater part of the night.” In the early part of the century, inhaling the gas from the lights used at the time was one of the most common ways to commit suicide.
Although the medical examiner wrote in his report that Wilcox’s death was “most probably accidental, change of pressure in gas pipe extinguishing light, allowing raw gas to fill bed room,” his family and friends, as well as Harvard administrators, knew that his death was self-inflicted. Four days after the death, Lee wrote to Gay that Wilcox “committed suicide by inhalation of gas.”
Cyril’s suicide would have seemed the tragic result of too much academic pressure at Harvard were it not for a conversation Cyril had with his older brother George shortly before he committed suicide, during which Cyril told George about his homosexual relationship with Harry Dreyfus, an older man who lived in Boston.
What else Cyril told his brother, if anything, is unclear, as are any plans George might have had to deal with the information. But then, almost immediately after the suicide, two letters addressed to Cyril arrived at the Wilcox residence. A nine-page handwritten letter from Ernest Weeks Roberts, Class of 1922—postmarked the day before Cyril’s suicide—left no doubt that Cyril was part of a group of Harvard students involved in homosexual activities.
“I haven’t made Bradlee yet, but my dear wait, when I do it will last for 2 days and 2 nights without talking it out,” Roberts wrote to Cyril. “‘Ken’ [Kenneth B. Day, Class of 1922] is being sucked foolish by anyone and everybody he can lay hands on…I do him for it once in a while, for diversion. You know since you left I have been chaste not chased.” In other parts of the letter he refers to “faggoty parties” in his room and the names of non-Harvard-affiliated Boston men who were involved in the gay scene.
A strange letter postmarked the day of Cyril’s suicide arrived soon after from Harold W. Saxton ’19, filled with code and jargon. Saxton referred to Cyril as “Salomé’s Child” and someone else as “Dot.” He refers to Roberts’ “campaign,” raids against clubs, “tricks” and a “souse” party, apparently in reference to a party with alcohol that would have been in illegal in 1920, the first year of Prohibition.
Cyril’s older brother George, a clerk at the granite mills in Fall River, decided to act. He tracked down his brother’s former lover, Harry Dreyfus, who lived in Boston. Dreyfus, after he was beaten by George Wilcox, denied responsibility for Cyril’s suicide but gave three names of other men involved: Roberts, Harvard Dental School student Eugene R. Cummings and Pat Courtney, a non-Harvard man living in Boston.
About May 22, George Wilcox called on Acting Dean of the College Chester N. Greenough, Class of 1898, to inform him of Cyril’s suicide. He presented to Greenough the names he had extracted from Dreyfus and mentioned the two letters from Roberts and Saxton.
The next day, after consulting with President A. Lawrence Lowell, Class of 1877, Greenough asked Lee, Regent Matthew Luce, Class of 1891, Gay and Assistant Dean Kenneth B. Murdock to gather evidence on the case to be submitted to the President. They called this five-person body “The Court.”
The Court was so secretive that even the Ad Board wasn’t aware of its existence for more than a week after it was formed. When the Board was informed on June 1, it “had no desire to touch the case and agreed that the matter should not go through the regular channels (Board and Faculty) but straight from the Court to the President,” according to The Court’s written summary of the case.
But, at least at first, it was far from clear how The Court should proceed. Cyril was already dead, Saxton graduated the year before and the other two men were not connected with the University at all.
The only actual Harvard student named was Roberts—and he was the one person no one would accuse without great confidence in the charges. Ernest Weeks Roberts was the son of Rep. Ernest William Roberts, a man who had represented Massachusetts in Congress for eight years and was still an important political figure in Washington and Boston. There would need to be strong proof to accuse a congressman’s son of being homosexual. The proof came on May 25, when George Wilcox wrote to Greenough and, more importantly, enclosed Roberts’ letter to Cyril.
“By carefully reading this letter, I think you will obtain all the information you desire,” Wilcox wrote. But for some reason, in George Wilcox’s own letters to Greenough he chose to refer to several of the men involved not by their real names, but by a strange cipher. Dreyfus was referred to as Parker, Cyril Wilcox as Potter, Saxton as Preston, Roberts as Putnam, Cummings as Pope and Courtney as Piper.
George Wilcox also discovered that the “Ken” mentioned in Roberts’ letter was Cyril’s freshman roommate, Kenneth Day. Referring to all the evidence in the letter, he concluded: “It will be enough anyhow to put Putnam [Roberts] out of business if you choose to do so.”
In order to proceed methodically, The Court asked Roberts’ proctor in Perkins Hall, code-named “S27,” to compile a list of all the students seen in Roberts’ room, or in the company of the men connected with that room. On May 26, the proctor wrote Greenough that Day and Edward A. Say were “often” found in that room. He also mentioned that Cummings and two other students were somehow involved, although two days later he asked to have the other two students removed from investigation.
The case became even more mysterious when Greenough received an unsigned letter dated May 26 from someone who identified himself only as a member of the Class of 1921. The anonymous student knew all the details of Cyril Wilcox’s suicide and informed the Acting Dean how Cyril first got involved with the underground gay group. “While in his Freshman year he met in college some boys, mostly members of his own class, who committed upon him and induced him to commit on them ‘Unnatural Acts’ which habit so grew on him that realizing he did not have strength of character enough to brake [sic] away from it concluded suicide the only course open to him,” the anonymous letter read. “The leader of these students guilty of this deplorable practice and the one directly responsible for Cyril Wilcox’s suicide is Roberts, 2C. Roberts’ rooms at Perkins 28 where he and more of his type have, during the past college year, conducted ‘parties’ that beggar description and how in the World such parties ‘got by’ the Proctor is quite beyond me. At these parties were sailors in uniform whom Roberts and friends of his type picked up in the streets of Boston and used for his dirty immoral purposes. At these parties were notorious young male degenerates such as Harold Hussey, and Ned Courtney and many others of the type and many of them dressed in womans [sic] clothes which they brought with them and appeared in public hallways and entrys of Perkins so dressed.”
The anonymous student also identified Day, Say, Saxton and Cummings by name as students who attended parties in Roberts’ room, where, he wrote, “the most disgusting and disgraceful and revolting acts of degeneracy and depravity took place openly in plain veiw [sic] of all present.”
“Isn’t it about time an end was put to this sort of thing in college?” he asked Greenough. “If you will look into the above you will find the charges based on facts.” The following day, The Court called its first witness.
Kenneth B. Day’s parents died before he was eleven years old. Raised by his grandmother, he depended upon the financial assistance of other relatives to pay for his Harvard education. But at college, at least to his family, Day appeared to find success. He was a member of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity and was interested in track and boxing. In the spring of his freshman year, he finished fourth in the Track Carnival.
But tensions with his freshman roommate, Cyril Wilcox, were a constant source of worry. “Wilcox and I are no longer on speaking terms, I am so disgusted with I cannot bring myself to talk to him,” Day wrote to his cousin in an April 18, 1919 letter.
But two weeks after they had stopped speaking to one another, Wilcox left a note on Day’s desk apologizing and the two made up. “He wasn’t as bad I thought he was,” Day wrote in a later letter. “I couldn’t help but shake hands with him and we went to church together, he seemed quite happy to be friendly again and nearly broke down.”
“Perhaps he can’t help being a little queer,” Day wrote. “Of course I won’t get to [sic] pally with him, but it is so much better to be at least on a speaking basis.”
On Thursday, May 27, 1920, according to the sparse dates marked in the secret records, Day became the first witness to appear before The Court. There were three pieces of evidence against him. The anonymous letter charged that he attended the parties in Roberts’ room, Perkins 28, an accusation the proctor’s letter supported. Even more incriminating was the letter to Cyril Wilcox in which Roberts wrote that Day engaged in homosexual acts with Roberts himself and with many others. Day “confessed to H.S. [homosexual] relations with Roberts, after denial at first,” according to Court notes. During his freshman year, Day “guessed what was going on, but claimed that his first offense was this year and that he was drunk at the time,” according to the notes. He admitted attending some parties in Roberts’ room, going every day to see Roberts and calling on Cyril Wilcox six or seven times.
In response to questions from The Court, Day said he did not masturbate and had not masturbated for seven years. He also claimed that Roberts’ letter’s allegations of promiscuity were “a lie” of whole cloth. Day testified that he only had sexual relations with two men.
The Court files noted that Day “admits he is probably a little tainted. Mind poisoned.” But, according to the notes of the case, Day “says he has cut it out since a month ago.”
The Court attempted to track down the students considered sexual deviants. Saxton? “Guilty,” Day told The Board. Say? “Guilty.” Courtney? Hussey? Cummings? All “guilty,” he said. Day also raised the name of Nathaniel S. Wollf ’19-’23 to The Court for the first time, although he declined to comment whether he was guilty or not.
After Day’s questioning ended, the pace of The Court’s investigation picked up. The Court decided it had no choice but to investigate Roberts, regardless of his powerful father. “I expect you, whatever your engagement may be, to appear at my office tomorrow, Friday, May 28th, at 2:45 P.M.,” Greenough wrote to Roberts on May 27. Day received an almost identical letter, apparently to call him back for a second round of questioning.
Perhaps The Court wanted to ask Day more questions about Dreyfus after Greenough received a May 27 letter from George Wilcox using the strange cipher. He enclosed a photograph of Dreyfus that he found and described him as “slightly more tall than I perhaps 5’9’’ or 10’’. He has a thin black moustache. He probably weighs about 140 lb.” He added: “I have lately found a letter written by Piper [Courtney] to Potter [Cyril Wilcox] in which he asks Potter [Wilcox] to induce his roommate and Day to come to his room in Boston.” George Wilcox apparently did not enclose the letter, for no such correspondence is in the files of The Court.
On the afternoon of May 28, Ernest Roberts prepared to face The Court. His room, Perkins 28, appears to have been a center of gay life at Harvard in 1920. During his frequent parties, Harvard students and alumni joined Boston men for raucous parties that would last long into the night. Men dressed in women’s clothes.
But in public, Roberts was still the son of a former congressman. He tried his hardest to show a decent, clean-cut public image. During World War I he served in the Harvard unit of the Students’ Army Training Corps (SATC). And even as he continued to hold several male lovers, Roberts courted a young woman who lived in Brookline named Helen Gay Smith.
In between mentions of an “old faggot” and a man named Sak whom he was hoping “to spend the night with,” Roberts told Cyril Wilcox in his May 10 letter that he was spending all his time in Brookline with Helen. “She is the kind of girl I can say anything to at all,” he wrote. According to his testimony before The Court, he sometimes lived with the Smith family in Brookline rather than staying in Perkins 28.
Roberts hoped to apply to Harvard Medical School and become a doctor—a dream that was endangered by poor grades in his sophomore fall. Two Es and two Ds were enough to put him on probation on Dec. 10, 1919. But a quick letter from his father yielded reassurances from Assistant Dean Murdock that the boy would have no trouble getting into the Medical School if his grades merely picked up slightly. Murdock even sent the former congressman a pamphlet on admissions requirements to the Harvard Medical School.
The Court believed Roberts to be “certainly the ringleader in the homosexual practices in college.” Although at first he denied his involvement, he eventually confessed to homosexual relations with Cummings, Courtney, Hussey, Saxton, Cyril Wilcox and to spending one night with a man not connected with Harvard known only to The Court as “Win” Adams. Roberts claimed he was “led astray” by the now-deceased Wilcox.
He also provided new information on the last months of Wilcox’s life. Roberts told The Court that Wilcox had “practically lived” with Dreyfus at his apartment on 44 Beacon St. The two lovers had met during the summer, Roberts said, and one fall night at a Beacon Hill club called the Lighted Lamp, Wilcox went home with Dreyfus. After that, Roberts said they were together “every night.” But when Wilcox decided to leave Dreyfus, the older man began “threatening to expose him to college authorities,” according to Roberts’ testimony.
Roberts said his first homosexual acts occurred eight or ten years earlier in high school. The testimony Roberts gave to The Court was riddled with contradictions. Despite what he wrote in his letter to Wilcox, Roberts said he had had “no abnormal relations for three months.” And despite having boasted in the same letter that he was responsible for “bringing [Day] out,” he told The Court that Wilcox was to blame for exposing Day to homosexuality. Day had been “normal” the year before, Roberts claimed, until he had been “led into it by Wilcox—but not of his own free will.”
That same Friday, May 28, The Court called Edward A. Say to appear in Greenough’s office. The evidence against him was overwhelming. Say was accused of homosexuality in the proctor’s list, the anonymous letter and the oral testimony of Roberts and Day. He also figured prominently in Roberts’ letter to Wilcox, where Say was described as “bitchy looking and acting.” But aside from the information in the Court files, Say’s life is almost a complete mystery. The 1919-1920 student directory identifies him as an “unclassified student” (meaning he was not affiliated with a specific class) living in Perkins 24. But he is not listed in the alumni directory and he has no student folder in the Archives.
Despite all the accusations against him, Say denied taking part in any homosexual acts, although, under questioning, he admitted to practicing “masturbation regularly, about once a week.” Although Say confessed to attending a party in Roberts’ room shortly after Thanksgiving, but he said he was “disgusted and left.” He assured them that he had “cut all possible relations with the men involved.”
Men from Boston used to call Perkins frequently to speak with the Harvard boys, and Say said that he answered the telephone frequently. Usually it was Courtney, a man Say described as a “main annoyance,” who telephoned. Say said Courtney constantly asked him and his roommate, Joseph E. Lumbard, Jr. ’22, to come to Roberts’ room, but that they always refused.
The Court was unimpressed with Say’s defense. His testimony that an injury early in life “kept him out of athletics” only made them more suspicious. “Notably effeminate in some degree,” scribbled one Court member in his notes. They asked him if he knew what a “faggoty party” was, but Say said he “could only guess.”
Some of the remaining entries in the Court notes are undated, so it is unclear in exactly what order some of the other men appeared before The Court. Soon, however, they summoned Saxton, a professional tutor living on 161 Hancock St. in Cambridge, based on the letter he wrote to Wilcox. “When pushed he practically confessed to one act,” according to Court notes, “but later retracted.” The Court
notes indicate several contradictions in his testimony.
In the midst of The Court’s investigation, Greenough received another letter from George Wilcox, dated May 31, using the same cipher. “Mr. Cummings has called this evening here at the house,” he wrote. “I went to talk with him. He says that he personally is alright but that Roberts is not a ‘moral man’ and is addicted to the same practices that Parker [Dreyfus] is.” Wilcox implied that he beat up Cummings as he previously had Dreyfus: “The interview terminated the same as the one I had with Parker [Dreyfus].”
Soon it was Cummings’ turn to appear before The Court. He told The Court how Cyril “became his confidante” and “told Cummings a good deal of his past.” But he said the two had only known each other for three months and that they “had never even been intimate.” He admitted attending Roberts’ parties but was vehement in his “absolute denial of any h.s. [homosexual] relations.”
The final student involved in the first investigative wave was Joseph E. Lumbard, Jr. ’22, Say’s roommate, who was summoned on June 2. He testified that Say knew the rest of the accused “pretty well.” Lumbard, though, also knew almost everyone in the group and was aware of the rumors that his roommate had homosexual relations with Courtney and Cummings. The crowd was having a strong influence on his roommate, Lumbard told The Court. Recently, he said, Say had even started using rouge. There had been a marked change since the beginning of the year, according to Lumbard—Say was “secretive and not inclined to be frank.” Say, he said, would explain the change by saying he had trouble with his spine and was being cared for closely by his mother.
Expressing serious reservations about his roommate, Lumbard told The Court he was “not sure that Say has been telling the truth.” Lumbard was clear, though, in saying that he did not believe his roommate or Day should be thrown out of the college. He also appears to have been the first of several witnesses to inform The Court of Roberts’ plan to stay at Harvard: “If he is expelled,” Lumbard told them, “Roberts threatens publicity.”
The first party Lumbard and Say attended was in December, he told The Court in a second appearance. He said “faggots” from a club called the Golden Rooster were present at the bash, referred to as a “bitch party.” There was dancing, dressing in women’s clothes and “some kissing witnessed.” Lumbard said he did not drink, but that he danced once, before leaving at about 1:30 a.m. Several times afterward, Lumbard dropped by the parties in Perkins 28 for a few minutes. In response to questioning from The Court, Lumbard said he “stayed because he was interested.” He also freely admitted that there were three or four times when four or five men have slept in his room. Courtney slept in the room seven or eight times, he admitted, and Cummings stayed overnight occasionally. Lumbard also said he once slept in the same bed as William Toomey, a Boston man who ran in the same circles as Harry Dreyfuss.
He told The Court that he had never had relations with a woman. Apparently connecting onanism with homosexuality, The Court asked Lumbard, as they had several of the students before, if he frequently masturbated. He told them that he had masturbated six years before, but not since then.
Just as the investigation appeared to be winding down, a seemingly innocent conversation initiated a whole new investigation—one filled with even more backstabbing and finger-pointing, as the accused students desperately attempted to curry favor in order to remain at Harvard.
While Nathaniel S. Wollf ’19-’23 chatted with Assistant Dean Gay one day, he happened to mention that he knew the circumstances of Cyril Wilcox’s death. Immediately, he was summoned before The Court.
Wollf entered Harvard intending to become a doctor. He worked for two months at the Medical School and had spent the year before working at the Dental School, where he met Cummings. He said Cummings talked about the need for wider sex education and hinted at the existence of an undergraduate homosexual group.
Under pressure from The Court, Wollf admitted to participating in homosexual acts himself. He said he had “begun the habit” as a 12-year-old in school. The practice increased, he told The Court, when at the age of 16 he attended a prestigious boarding school, which was “permeated with homosexuality” and “mutual masturbation.” Since he had been at Harvard, though, Wollf said he had had only two homosexual encounters—until he met Keith P. Smerage, Class of 1921, at the Dramatic Club. The two had supper together and, because of Smerage’s constant allusions to homosexuality, Wolff realized that his dining companion was a homosexual, he told The Court.
That night he spent several hours in Smerage’s room. The two “took off all their clothes,” he said, and “mutual masturbation took place—one each.” The same thing happened on one other occasion, he said. Wollf told The Court that his second fling with Smerage was his last. “He was fighting hard and felt that he had overcome the habit,” read the Court records. “Says he is 90% OK.”
As a result of Wollf’s testimony, The Court summoned Smerage to appear for questioning. A native of Topsfield, Mass., Smerage decided to transfer to Harvard after spending a year studying at Tufts and a month and a half in the SATC. Harvard had a better Dramatic Club, which he eventually joined, and an English department.
He said he was first introduced to homosexuality by an older boy in high school and confessed to having had many homosexual relationships. Smerage confessed to knowing “the jargon” and what a “queer” was, although he didn’t know what the word “faggot” meant. Smerage also admitted to rouging his nails and knowing the work of Havelock Ellis, a psychologist whose 1897 book Sexual Inversion described the prevalence of homosexuality in American cities.
Smerage told The Court that he had “not slept with men in unnatural sense” since entering college and that he had conquered masturbation more than nine months before.
He later admitted he had “‘fooled’ around with the homosexual business” one or two times at Harvard. After he left SATC, an undergraduate whose full name he never knew “reintroduced [him] to the practice.”
Although he told The Court he’d had heterosexual relations during the summer, Smerage admitted he “prefers homo-sexuality to intercourse with a woman.”
And then Smerage began naming names. He told The Court about a student Roberts had introduced him to who “has reputation of being queer”: Stanley Gilkey ’22-’23. Smerage added: “Gilkey got rather gay last semester.” He also named eight other students as probable homosexuals. Nonetheless, Smerage wouldn’t cooperate fully. “Said he knows fifty names—but won’t tell,” according to the files.
On June 6, Gilkey appeared before The Court. His defense? He was “interested in homo-sexuality as part of interest in criminology.” Gilkey said he had read parts of Havelock Ellis’ multi-volume Studies in the Psychology of Sex and a great deal of Sex Inversion as well as studying Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud. The following year, Gilkey said, he planned to take Anthropology 3: “Criminology.”
“I think a man should know about everything,” he told The Court to explain his interest in homosexuality. “I want to know all I can.”Although The Court had heard testimony from others that Gilkey often “boasted of being able to tell ‘queer’ people,” he denied the charge. He “says he can’t pick out queer person unless he can back it up by hearsay,” Court notes say.
Gilkey told the inquisitors that while he masturbated, he “does not think it as dangerous as homo-sexuality.” He denied any homosexual behavior and said he “went with a woman summer before last.” Although Gilkey admitted to discussing homosexuality with several students he stressed that he “probably has brought homosexual knowledge to no one who was innocent.”
He begged The Court to call his roommates to testify to his character. Gilkey said they would confirm he was a “good boy, always in bed before they stopped playing cards.”
The Court continued to examine the students that Smerage had implicated, and eventually “S14,” whose real name was redacted, appeared in Greenough’s office. Although he admitted that he had masturbated when younger, The Court quickly concluded that he was innocent. In the course of his testimony, though, the student told The Court he had twice been “approached” by Assistant in Philosophy Douglas B. Clark, his section leader in Pyschology A: “General Introduction to Psychology.”
Clark was an erudite man. The 24-year-old was born in Rome and spoke Italian, German and French fluently. At Wesleyan College he was Phi Beta Kappa and during World War I he served as a special agent in the U.S. Dept. of Justice. He received a masters’ degree in Philosophy at Harvard in 1918 and was in the third year of his Ph.D. program when he was summoned before The Court. Altogether, Clark taught about 100 students in his sections.
The news that a Harvard teacher might be a homosexual led President Lowell to join a special secret session of The Court on June 10 that the two Assistant Deans did not attend. At first, Clark “denied any connection with homosexualism, and he denied talking about it except to help some students to cure themselves.” Court records note that his memory was poor and he seemed nervous. He eventually broke down and confessed to approaching “S14” hoping for homosexual relations. Clark told The Court he had “been lying to cure himself and thought he was succeeding.”
President Lowell told Clark he could not be reappointed or given a Ph.D., and Clark agreed to withdraw his candidacy for the degree. Later, President Lowell himself crossed Clark’s name off all Corporation records.
Apparently worried about the teaching staff at Harvard, Lowell and Greenough both met separately with the head instructor of Psychology A, Professor Herbert S. Langeld, who assured them that he had never delivered a lecture on homosexuality. “[I]deas on entire perfectly sound,” concluded The Court.
