Word: fords
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Dear Dean Ford...
...loyal and devoted alumnus of Harvard College I am shocked and appalled by your handling of the recent disorders at University Hall. We had all hoped that the lessons of Berkeley and Columbia would be carefully studied by your own wiser and more understanding administration. Surely you and Dean Ford--whom I knew well and admired during my undergraduate years at Lowell House--must have realized that by bringing in the Cambridge Police, bloody violence and mayhem would result, the entire issue would escalate to national proportions and only further radicalization of the hitherto moderate student majority would immediately occur...
From listening to Friday's Faculty meeting, it was evident that the only thing coming from them was continued hypocrisy. Could they not have even asked if the six demands were legitimate? There was no spirit of free inquiry while they meekly swallowed Dean Ford's garbage about "Storm Troopers." While they pompously condemned everyone else for the events of this week, they failed to realize that they too shared the guilt...
...presences of those individuals, living and dead, who have there experienced moments of special intensity, whether feigned or actual. And such spirits are fully capable of interference with the ongoing business of putting on plays. Some months ago, I stood on the stage of Washington's scrubbed and refurbished Ford's theatre, and indulged myself in a rather banal reflection on the impossibility of playing comedy in the house where a hack Shakespearean once broke...
Quite unlike Ford's, the Loeb Drama Center has always seemed impervious to supernatural meddling. True, one hears stories of the bricklayer who succumbed to aggravated ennui while completing its masonry and was mistakenly immured there in. But there are good reasons to discount the testimony of those who claim to have heard his terrifying, ceaseless yawns. Things have changed, however, and the Much Ado About Nothing which the Harvard Dramatic Club is offering us these evenings gives every indication of a troublesome haunting. This amateur spiritualist, for one, suspects that the production may be infected by restless remnants...