<p>An interesting read as to how legacy really worked back when at HYP. Given that legacy preferences today are nothing like this, I can’t get too worked up over it. THOSE were the days of connections trumping all and presumably unqualified people getting in, not today. </p>
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<p>My grandfather, Richard Claypoole Wells '33, arrived at a Harvard built for men like him. He traveled in those elements universal at the school from the time of his father’s generation. Richard’s Harvard was a social club for jockish Easterners, a clannish and cheery aristocracy. </p>
<p>His consequent brand of alumnal reverence drew equally on two passions: a dogged devotion to Crimson football and a worried sense that his son (my father) wouldn’t make the cut for Harvard admission. </p>
<p>Henry Wells, my father, took to heart his own father’s concerns. Early in his senior year at Exeter, he headed down to the College counselor’s office to ask if he shouldn’t consider other Colleges beside Harvard. </p>
<p>The college advisor, a tall man bent with age and the weight of a ever-full belly, considered his file. </p>
<p>Other colleges, Wells? </p>
<p>Yes sir. I was wondering whether I shouldn’t apply to any other colleges. </p>
<p>Do you want to go to other colleges, Wells? </p>
<p>No, sir. </p>
<p>Well then, Wells, it would seem a bit foolish to apply. </p>
<p>Yes, sir. </p>
<p>Less than a year later, my father drifted into Harvard’s Class of 1959. The template of my grandfather’s biography repeats itself. </p>
<p>My father joined a finals club and involved himself in the associated life of Cambridge, academic and social. By his generation, however, the guiding climate of Cambridge had changed.</p>