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50 page Photos by Ira Silverman, Class of 1968
page 51 NYU playing Manhattan at the old Garden. Mal Graham, (I believe) NYU’s all time high scorer and the last true basketball star, is handling the ball. Photo contributed by Ira Silverman, Arts ’68 Many Ways to Learn • My freshman year’s first roommate was quiet and studious. But at some point, it became clear he was drawn to the fraternity life. Maybe it was escaping his parents’ rules, it certainly didn’t seem to be a craving for beer parties. In any event he was gone as soon as allowed. After the holidays I came into my room and discovered two things on my new roommate’s desk. One was a copy of the Grapes of Wrath and the other was a marked-up copy of the NBA schedule. An unusual combination to say the least. It turns out the novel was a loan from his English professor and the other contained all the games played by former NYU star Barry Kramer who had been drafted by the San Francisco Warriors. It turns out my new roommate was a fifth-year senior who had had roomed with Kramer. My new roommate could have been a character in Guys and Dolls whose favorite activities were playing hearts at all hours or going “up the road” to Yonkers Raceway. My learning was just beginning. I had never been to an NBA game but somehow it got in my blood as we drove one night to Philadelphia and the next to Boston to see Kramer play! • Speaking of roommates, the most famous were Greg Wuliger and Bernard Bopp. B. Bopp and G. Wuliger! • Professor Cohn raised a copy of the New York Times and pointed to a glowing story about NYU. Is this here to reflect a hard news article he asked? No, what personal contacts and relationships does this reflect, he said? To this day his lesson of the hidden factors going on behind the scenes echoes in my mind when I look at a newspaper or TV broadcast • If there was a superstar among Professors L. Jay Oliva was it. Getting into his Russian History class could be difficult. He always facetiously warned that if anyone bought a used copy of his text they would fail. He also was the patron saint of the athletes. And not just basketball, see him sitting in the stands in the accompanying baseball picture on Ohio Field. Who could have guessed he would become the only home-grown president of NYU in the future. He still followed the sports scene but ironically NYU had dropped out of Division I competition which he took philosophically. • Being on the staff of the Heights Daily News, the smallest daily newspaper in the country, was a different type of learning experience. We rotated taking the copy for the next day’s issue to the printer in lower Manhattan. This was still the days of the linotype machine, and the skilled printers took the type and composed each page. Then I would proofread the finished pages before the paper went to the press. Sometime after one a.m. I got in the car I had borrowed from a friend which sported Ohio plates and headed east on 20th Street. At the first intersection I saw no one way signs on the north-south street. Unfortunately, as I turned left, I saw a fleet of headlights headed toward me on Broadway! On 22nd street I turned right into the waiting arms of a New York City policeman.
52 page Shelley Cohen Class of 1969 Glee Club My time at the heights was the joy of singing with the NYU Glee Club. ‘The Professor’ Alfred M. Greenfield, Jon de Revere, and so many wonderful singers! We put lots of effort into weekly rehearsals, glee club camp every semester to really learn the music, and our concerts for the community ! Shelley Cohen, Arts 69 The NYU Glee Club, directed by Alfred M. Greenfield, rode down 7th Avenue on a green and silver float in the 1958 Macy’s Parade. — Photo @nyuniversity
Miriam Frank Class of 1969 IN THE HEIGHTS WITHOUT THE LIGHTS Tuesday, November 9, 1965: A gorgeous full moon was rising in the east as campus streetlights lit paths to offer safe byways to the men’s and women’s dorms. Some students found their own paths with the help of campus guards and dorm managers. Others shared flashlights for safety and made their way to the cafeteria. We enjoyed tubs of free ice cream, melting in every flavor, a treat from the service workers, offered with the moonlight and its darkening sky. After that, some of us gathered in the dusk, our blankets spread out on the central lawns, and without really seeing each other began making out. In the dark I fell into the arms of a stranger who picked me, and we necked for hours. I only really saw his face the next morning and wasn’t attracted to him at all. I never talked to him again. What a sexy and strange night it had been! Meanwhile, one of my friends in the dorm, who was a real grind, spent the night worrying, “How can I study for the midterm test if the lights don’t come on?!” Miriam Frank, Class of 1969 Photo of HDN contributed by Paul Jacobson UH - Arts ’66, ED - ’69 page 53
54 page John J. LiMarzi Class of 1969 / 1973 UNIVERSITY HEIGHTS: 1965-1973 It was another time, another world; much of it lost in the fog of time. My undergraduate years at NYU, 1965 to 1969, a time of world turmoil and upheaval yet a time, for me, of grounding where the turmoil of the World had to be walled off in order to absorb the education being imparted. Viet Nam, Civil and Voter Rights, Abraham, Martin & John, Nixon’s shenanigans and Spiro Agnews self amusing tung twisters, The Arab/Israeli War — consequential, but background noise that might interfere with the intense Engineering curriculum. The moon Walk, the Burnside Deli and the Howard Johnson Friday Night Fish Fry; Jahns on Valentine Avenue — pleasantries that lightened the load. I am anchored to two points: 1. The BLISS BUILDING where, as a Civil Engineering student I spent most of my time engrossed in Shear and Moment diagrams, Concrete and steel, and 2. The Gould Library and the adjacent Colonnades (specifically the basement) where I went to escape the horrors of the world and the rigors of my studies. While Liberal Arts, pre-law and pre-med students lolled on the Mall or protested the realities of the real world, we Engineering students trudged by, carrying our books, not to be disturbed or distracted, to the Bliss Building where we lived in our cocoon of Math and Science trying to understand the laws of nature. But I, I had an escape. The lure of singing, something I have done throughout my education, took me to the Gould Library and the offices of the NYU MENS GLEE CLUB where I found my Fraternity, my release, my relaxation and my pleasure. Music camp in Pennsylvania; singing lessons from Craig Timberlake and John Parella; Helena Kaprillian at the piano and E. Jon deRevere as Conductor. Making my way from JV to Varsity and then as a member of the esteemed GOLIARDS. Travel to Puerto Rico, St Thomas, St Johns; singing in some of the most famous churches in N.Y. City; Joe King’s Rathskeller, Ratners; Katz’s Deli and Washington Square. Singing under the dancing waters of the NY Hilton with Henny Youngman and, before NBC took it over, singing at the lighting of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree in Rockefeller Center. Some of the best time, and best friends, I ever had — and have to this day. Under Jon deRevere, the Glee Club was an oasis where I was able to meet so many people of varied background, interests, races, religions orientations and learn to like and respect them all. The experiences broadened my outlook and expanded my horizons like nothing else. And those associations allowed me to maintain my Engineering studies holding them in perspective; keeping them from overwhelming me. What a beautiful Campus; central to the City yet isolated enough to be a haven. The teachers open and wanting you to learn and succeed. I returned in 1971 to pursue my Masters at night, after work. Remembering the words of Dean Cox to organize time and remove distraction. Professors Grossworth and Greenfield making sure I wanted the education and was not there just to up my paycheck. The classroom discussions with other (now) Engineers, working by day, learning by night. And then the effort to increase the workload to graduate in 1973 before the school sold the Campus in order to have our degree read “NYU”. We made it; but what a sad thing; what a loss; what a mistake to lose that wonderful oasis in the Bronx that allowed many of us to commute and attend a rural college within the greatest City in the World. Four hard years plus two more for good measure at a place that I will never forget; I hope it lives in other memories as strongly as it does in mine. John J. LiMarzi E ’69, ’73
Cynthia Lynch Shor Class of 1969 In Homage of The Ducking Trough The Heights, with its distinguished Stanford White architecture, its Hall of Fame of Great Americans, its Historic Landmark designation, its engineering school, its alumni achievements, and its notable Arts & Engineering graduates was the Jewel of the Crown of NYU from 1894 to 1973. The ducking trough is a rare tangible artifact of the camaraderie and fellowship spirit of the campus and its student body for many consecutive years. From my first days on campus, I have an indelible image of students emerging from the waters and joining in the revelry of their bonding experience with playfulness and laughter. Such distinguished history of the Heights and of the artifact elevates the ducking trough’s significance and establishes its connection to present day NYU. Now NYU has added new global Jewels of the Crown but let us not forget what contributed to NYUs stature from the past. To interpret the narrative of the ducking trough other than a positive and enduring history of Heights tradition becomes a rewriting of its history and more importantly, a disservice to all its distinguished students who have been, and who currently are, active and supportive Alumni of both the Heights and now CAS and NYU Tandon. page 55
56 page Christine Sofijczuk Greene Class of 1969 NYU Heights Campus — 1965-1969 undergraduate The summer before starting college at the NYU School of Engineering and Science in the Heights, all entering students were required to take a math proficiency test to determine which level of calculus they would take as Freshmen. Arriving on campus to take the test, I recall a crowd on the steps of the chemistry building, almost all male, waiting for the doors to open. I spied two lonely females in the crowd. I introduced myself to them. That was the beginning of friendships that we still have ongoing today. Two of us were going to be commuting students, using the NYC subway system and one would live in the dorms. We spent the next four years doing just about everything together; eating lunch in the cafeteria, studying in Gould Library and the Engineering Library, participating in fraternity events, watching movies on the mall, enjoying concerts, sports activities, especially tennis, making more friendships with the other students and meeting our future spouses. Most of our time, however, was spent in classes and labs. The first two years were generally basic higher math, chemistry, physics, electives and gym. The last two years were made up of technical engineering courses in our majors with some labs, more advanced math and science. Then there were interviews for jobs in senior year. Most of the male students were looking for positions with deferments because the Vietnam war was still going strong. There were some anti-war protest rallies and marches on campus but as engineering students, we were generally apolitical and focused on our education, getting our careers started and gaining independence from our parents. All in all, for me, the years at the Heights were the best introduction to self-awareness, focused self-determination, discipline and planning for life goals. I learned so much from seeing how my friends and other fellow students dealt with their issues, their limitations, their ambitions and life choices. They definitely influenced how I made my own choices and goals. NYU in admitting such diverse groups of students made that possible and I am thankful. Christine Sofijczuk Greene, Class of 1969, Major: Mechanical Engineering — June 7, 2023 Photo of Chemistry and Physics Laboratories contributed by Robert Matz Class of 1952
Mordechai Chetrit Class of 1970 “My education at the NYU School of Engineering was outstanding and very useful to the point where I became self-employed. I have nothing but good memories about the School of Engineering Campus at University Heights in the Bronx. I shall carry these memories for the rest of my life”. Mordechai Chetrit, P.E. page 57
58 page Tom DeLorenzo Class of 1970 I arrived for an interview during my senior year of High School. It was the first time I saw the campus. I was impressed that it was an actual college campus. I was choosing between two schools. The other school I would live on campus, which is what I preferred. Family and friends convinced me NYU was the better and more prestigious school. I know I missed out on a lot not living on campus, but I made very good friends and we were together off campus all the time. I was above average scholastically in high school. Freshman year taking physics, chemistry and calculus made me very humble. At the end of the class looking at all the equations and theorems written on the board, on the goods days, I was very proud that I knew somewhat what they meant. Freshman year was a good year (not grade wise) the Division One basket ball team was in the NIT finals. There was a club football team that played schools like Fordham. The highlight was the transit strike. The school set up cots in the dorm public areas for commuter students to stay during the strike. It lasted two weeks I think and it was a two week party. I realized then it was a good thing I didn’t board at school. The first two years I found hard with the large lecture classes. The last two years, in my case three years, the courses were in your discipline. In my case Mechanical Engineering. The mechanical engineering classes were small. We had our own building. The professors had real world experience and would give many interesting stories of what it was like to be an engineer. The Vietnam war was in full swing. I was one of the privileged ones to have a draft deferment while being in school. That year the draft lottery started and my number was low, so I was almost certain to be drafted. I was not worried, because being an engineer I figured I would be in the Army Corp of Engineers, Once again my association with NYU would bail me out. In about three weeks before graduation. I was not sure I would pass Greek and Roman History. I was on the cusp. Then students protesting the war were shot and killed at Kent State University. Students on campuses around the country were up and arms and began to boycott classes in protest. NYU closed down. They said if you are passing you can take a pass in the class. If you wanted a grade, you had the option of taking a final. Since I didn’t want to gamble with Greek and Roman history I took the pass and my diploma. The best advice I received from the professors was to take the P.E. Exam as soon as possible, while still in student mode. I did that and four years later I took the second part of the P.E. exam and passed. While studying for these exams I realized what a great education I received at NYU. I know engineers who were trying to learn subjects on their on, because it wasn’t given at their school. Because of my P.E. license I could practice engineering on my own and am still practicing 53 years later. Now that NYU is a top destination school, I am looked upon with envy that I went to NYU. I don’t tell them, I was not one to have elevated the school, but I am proud to have gone to NYU. Tom DeLorenzo Eng’70
John DeSantis Class of 1970 I started working for NYU in September of 1964 with the Physics Department at the Heights campus. It was a microcosm of the large college campuses you see and hear about in this country — Green grass, trees and a mixture of Stanford White buildings and newer buildings like the Tech 1 building. followed by Tech 2 and, of course, the Hall of Fame. During the Spring and Fall you would see groups of students sitting on the grass gathered around professors giving their lectures. Even during the height of student unrest in the 60s, the NYU students at the “Height’s” demonstrated vocally about the war in Vietnam but without the destruction that occurred on many of the campuses around the country. NYU commencement was held at the Bronx campus on the baseball field. But, on one fateful commencement day there was a dark cloud that hovered over the baseball field that unleashed a torrential downpour, drenching students and parents alike. Many of the graduating students turned purple from the dye on their gowns. This was the last outdoor graduation held by NYU. Future graduations were moved to the NYC Coliseum. The US economy was at record highs during the 60s and 70s. Many universities were having financial problems with NYU being no exception. NYU was on the verge of bankruptcy and to stay afloat with the help pf the NY State and City, they had to sell off its Heights campus and give up their engineering school. The campus is now Bronx Community College and its engineering school was merged with Brooklyn Poly Technical University and is now NYU Tandon School of Engineering. I have had occasion to return to the old Bronx Campus to retrieve items belonging to NYU. While walking through some of these old buildings, I imagined that I could hear the voices of old friends, many who are no longer with us, giving me an eerie feeling. Some 60 years later, still working at NYU as the Senior Director of Technical Services and Special Projects for the School of Arts & Science at the Square — my memories and love of the Heights Campus are as strong as ever. John DeSantis Class of 1970 page 59
60 page Marvin Fortgang Class of 1970 My recollections of the Heights all center around the Heights Daily News (HDN) — where I certainly spent more time each week than in the classroom. The HDN came out five days a week. While it was usually only four pages per edition, producing that on a daily basis for a relatively small campus was a challenge. The Monday edition was produced on Friday but, for the Monday, November 17, 1969 edition, we wanted to cover the big anti Vietnam war demonstration that was taking place in Washington on Saturday the 15th. To do that we had to get the text of the articles on the demonstration to the HDN’s printers by Sunday November 16th and, with the payment of the appropriate overtime charges, they were happy to cooperate. The problem was that we wanted some pictures to accompany the articles on the protest and, in order to do so, we would have the get those photos to the photoengravers (remember this is 1969) in time for them to produce the photo-engravings (metal plates with the pictures mounted on wood bases — we called them “cuts”) to give to the printers by Sunday the 16th so that the printers could insert them in the Monday morning edition. Well it turned out that photoengravers were not at all interested in working over the weekend (overtime or not) to accommodate the “commie” NYU students and refused to cooperate. However someone on our staff remembered that Arthur Gelb, then a senior editor at the New York Times, was a Heightsman and called him to see if the Times’ photoengraving department would produce the cuts. He was glad to cooperate (at no cost to the HDN!) and so the photos in the Monday, November 17, 1969 HDN were produced by the New York Times. A copy of the pages of that edition with the articles and pictures on the demonstration is attached. Marvin Fortgang — Arts, 70
Phyllis R. Freeman Class of 1970 Heights 1966-1970 — Lasting Memories Wearing a beanie and being dunked during Orientation in August 1966. Phil Zimbardo’s Inro to Psych class in fall 1966. I switched from Bio to Psych after that class. He wrote me a letter at the end of class encouraging me to take additional classes. I hung that letter in my campus office for 39 years as a professor at SUNY. I majored in psych and had some wonderful teachers: Joan Snodgrass, Alan Schneider, and Charles Catania in particular. Catania “hired” me as a TA for Experimental Psych while I was still a senior. The experience led to my 50 year career as an experimental health psychologist. I loved the faculty of the German Department and took multiple courses in the English Department. The German Honor Society induction ceremony. I lived in a Silver Hall room for 4 years overlooking the River. The Potato Chip roof of the Engineering Building. The Hall of Fame (my favorite place to unwind and reflect). The bombing of the Gould Library. The Psychology labs in the basement of Gould. Burnside Avenue on Sundays when Silver Hall didn’t serve food and we had to eat off campus. Tutoring children in their apartments in the buildings surrounding the campus. Watching Shep Messing play soccer (before he left for Harvard) on the green. PUB on Friday nights. As a non drinker I was head of the Pub for a year- hired bartenders, ordered beer and hung up flyers announcing that week’s entertainment. Fire Drills at 3 am in Silver Hall (and hiding my then boyfriend from the crowd). Intervisitation! Having to register my father to visit me in my room. Student strikes during the Vietnam War and the Cambodia invasion. The flags on the lawn in the morning. I have NO FINAL GRADES for the spring 1970 semester on my transcript. The graduation award ceremony on the green (before the big ceremony in Madison Square Garden). PHYLLIS R. FREEMAN Class of 1970 HEIGHTS page 61
62 page Barbara Gilbert Shorenstein Class of 1970 I attended college at the Heights for only two and a half semesters, but I am still in touch with a few friends whom I hear from every now and then ie: Leslie Bobrowsky. Rebecca Tepper and Marjorie Friedlander. I did meet a lifelong friend whom I speak to every day. She is Melanie Garfinkle. We met in French class and by coincidence, our dads were both civil engineers and knew each other. French was my major, and I also received an MA in French from the Graduate School of Arts and Science in NYC. Melanie and I met in Professor Zezula’s class. He made the words on the page come to life. He also taught at the graduate school and was instrumental in my passing the MA exam. When my son was a student at Stern many years later and was enrolled in a French classic literature class taught in English, he was writing a paper at home. He put his professor’s name in the corner of the page. It said, “Professor Zezula.” I said, “He was my professor.” My son said, “No, he’s my professor.” All these years later, Professor Zezula was still teaching. My son asked him if I could sit in on a class which I did. I brought along a friend I had met in grad school. Professor Zezula said he remembered us. I think he truly did. What are the chances that my son would have my French professor so many years later. We both have been enriched by learning from Professor Zezula. Barbara Gilbert Shorenstein College of Arts and Science 1970 Professor Jindrich Zezula Photo from L’Arc, Summer 2009
Personal remembrance of the Heights: I remember the campus in the spring of 1970 during the height of the Vietnam war and national protests against the war. Classes were generally suspended and the students participated in multiple demonstrations. There seemed to be no overall leadership — events just took place. I think the faculty voted to remove specific requirements for a degree and grades were not officially recorded for the spring semester. Graduation ceremonies took place both at the campus and at Madison Square Garden. I look forward to meeting fellow alumni and alumnae in October. Please let me know if there are plans for additional get togethers before or after the program. — Ira Krefting, Arts 1970 Ira Krefting Class of 1970 Photo from Heights Daily News 9/30/1970 contributed by Harold Schultz page 63
64 page My most memorable course while I was at the Heights was introduction to psychology taught by Professor Philip Zimbardo. He was an incredible teacher He’s fond of teasing me in public now with the story about one of his exams. I complained because I got the question about Harlow’s monkeys and their need for contact comfort wrong. The answer was schmata, the Yiddish word for rag. I had never seen it written and didn’t know what the word was and wouldn’t have guessed that an Italian professor would use it on an exam anyway. His defense was that getting a 98 on the test was good enough. When I think of my years at the Heights, this story often comes to mind. I try to imagine how different my life would be now if he gave me the score I deserved. Ellen J. Langer Arts 1970 Ellen J. Langer Class of 1970 From 1960 to 1967, Philip George Zimbardo was a professor of psychology at New York University College of Arts & Science. Photo by Elekes Andor
Neal Lewin Class of 1970 I most remember honors history with Dr. David Reimers, of all my educational experiences he had the most impact. His knowledge, kindness and style of teaching was unsurpassed. My favorite building was the library studying in the stacks and taking breaks with so many students outside the building. The hall of fame was inspirational. I have remained at NYU school of medicine where I’m the Druckenmiller Professor of Emergency Medicine and Professor of Medicine for the past 49 years and another alumnus of the heights Dr. Anthony Grieco has been a friend and mentor at the NYU School of Medicine. Sincerely, Neal Lewin ’70 Arts and Sciences, History Major Neal A. Lewin, MD FACEP, FACP, FACMT Druckenmiller Professor of Emergency Medicine and Professor of Medicine (Pharmacology) Director of Didactic Education Emergency Medicine Residency NYU Grossman School of Medicine 148 East 38th Street, New York, N.Y. 10016 Tel. 646.640.7687 Fax. 212.684.0613 Email. [email protected] http://www.med.nyu.edu/biosketch/lewinn01 Photo from Heights Daily News 9/24/1970 contributed by Harold Schultz page 65
66 page Donna Romanoff Levine Class of 1970 One memory that stands out was in the spring of 1970 when I was in a Heights economics professor’s office undergoing the oral presentation on my honors thesis as required for graduation (my thesis was on the Guaranteed Income, a topic which is in the news once again!). There was a ruckus outside which was a bit distracting. Turns out there were riots on campus over the Kent State shooting, or at least that’s my recollection. I made it through to graduate with honors, but the semester ended abruptly and everyone was told to go home. If you registered for a course, you automatically passed. We were declared graduates just like that! I had to stick around for a while as I had a part-time job in the City. The campus was eerily quiet for a while … Donna Romanoff Levine 23 LeGrand Road North Haven, CT 06473 Telephone 203-234-9867 [email protected] Photo by Eugene Schwartz, Arts ’71. This is an actual photo taken from the student strike/shutdown. 66 page
Steven Savas Negrin Class of 1970 MS Electrical Engineering, 1970 I have a degree from the Heights STEVEN SAVAS NEGRIN NYU MASTER OF SCIENCE IN ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING OCTOBER 1970 Two initial subjects that I still remember are: COMPLEX VARIABLES IN MATH with Prof Puri in 1967 INTRODUCTION TO DIGITAL COMPUTER ENGINEERING with Prof Dr. HEBERT HELLERMAN in 1968 photo by Elizabeth Pimentel Arts, ’71 page 67
68 page Robert Schwab Class of 1970 I arrived at NYU in the Heights in September, 1966, becoming a member of the class of 1970. Having grown up out in the countryside, enchanted by the books of many New York writers — Salinger, Malamud, and many others, I was excited to come to the Big City and find my way. I found ways of joining the fight for social justice, in the anti-war and anti-racist movements. I joined SDS when it was formed. When the recruiter for Dow Chemical, the manufacture of napalm, was coming to campus, we greeted him with a shower of blood, straight from the market in the Bronx, which hastened his exit … I guess the main thing that I learned back then was that the academic world was not a place where I saw any future for myself. The wider social and cultural world beyond campus drew my attention. Decades later, I decided to return to school to become a social worker, following the lead my friend and roommate from my freshmen year, Del Gordon. At that point, I was thankful for the dusty old credits from NYU, which shortened the path forward to an MSW. — Robert Schwab ’70 The past isn’t dead, it isn’t even past. — William Faulkner
Susan Stoller Class of 1970 It was May 5, 1970, the spring of my senior year at the Heights. I awakened that morning in my dorm at Silver Hall — “the Hilton on the Harlem” and prepared for my early classes. I left the building and as I was approaching the Mall, I stopped in my tracks. Both grassy areas on either side of the concrete walkway where the Freshman dunking pond stood were covered with perfectly placed white crosses (referencing Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C.?). The symbols had been erected overnight by students, both to protest the widening Vietnamese War and to honor the four students who had been shot and killed at Kent State University by the Ohio National Guard the day before, May 4, along with the nine wounded. The site was eerie, beautiful and so, so sad. Shortly thereafter, we were protesting NYC police arriving on our own campus “just in case”; eventually all classes were cancelled and students received “pass/fail” grades for the semester. A strange but unforgettable way to end my college years at NYU. Susan Stoller Arts ’70 [email protected] Photos by Eugene Schwartz, Arts ’71 featuring (Martha) Debbie Gordon, Arts ’71 page 69
70 page Howard Charles Yourow Class of 1970 UNDER THE ROTUNDA: Studying At Gould Memorial Library In The Late 1960s At the turn of the twentieth century, the pre-eminent architect of the American Gilded Age, Stanford White, completed the first buildings of the new University Heights or < Uptown > campus of New York University in The Bronx. These incomparable neoclassical beauties — the Pantheon-inspired Gould Memorial Library, flanked by the Halls of Language and Philosophy and embraced by the ‘ American Valhalla ‘, the Hall Of Fame For Great Americans — are recognized as New York City, New York State, and American National Historic Landmarks. Three generations after students had begun making the trek up to the then-countryside campus I was born into the Baby Boom in the Spring of 1949 — at the Fitch Sanitarium, just across Hall Of Fame Terrace from the campus. Growing up just south of campus in the late 1950s my buddies and I would sometimes drop in to romp across the expanse of verdant quad which spread itself before the great edifices looking out across Northern Manhattan toward the grim, grey Palisades on the far side of the Hudson River. Not long thereafter, as Fate had it, my family and I decided that my college years could be well spent just ‘up the block’, as it were, taking my undergraduate degree at University College of Arts and Science on the Heights campus. Thus continued my love affair with that hallowed place — and so many happy hours spent in class and studying at Gould Library. I remember my Classics of Western Literature course with the awesome Floyd Zulli in the Tiffany-windowed Chapel — today called the Auditorium — just below the Rotunda’s Main Reading Room, a treasure destroyed by an utterly senseless Molotov Cocktail attack during the Vietnam Era troubles of that time. I remember my early morning French Literature From Villon To Proust survey deep in the darkened bowels of Gould basement’s warrens of ancient books and maps. I remember my many Politics and History, Philosophy and Economics courses in the exquisitely proportioned Halls Of Language and Philosophy to the north and south of the Library. I remember my many strolls through the Hall Of Fame, the sense of the continuity of history to be gleaned therefrom, and the breathtaking view west. But most of all I remember settling in for the evening under the oculus of the Rotunda, to read and ponder in that majestic silence. Perhaps there was the gentle tick-tock of the classic grandfather clock in the middle of that great room: but that comforting sound, like heartbeat and breath themselves, was the only ruffle in the enveloping quiet. Years later I had the good luck — and the distinct pleasure — of living and working in the Old World. Sometimes I would find myself in The Eternal City, on the banks of the Tiber, at the Piazza della Rotonda, marveling for hours at The Pantheon, Stanford White’s immortal inspiration, purring like a Great Cat on its haunches. It is the only ancient monument in Rome which has come down to us intact, after more than two thousand years of the toll which time takes upon all that exists. May we who walk the face of this Earth at this time in the history of human civilization find the forza e couragio — the strength and the courage — to preserve, protect, and defend Stanford White’s masterpiece on the banks of the Harlem for ourselves and for the generations yet to come! Howard Charles Yourow, S.J.D. (ARTS ’70) [email protected]
Neal C. Allen Class of 1971 NYU Reminiscence As I left home at age 17 for the University Heights campus of NYU, I was filled with uncertainty and anticipation. I didn’t know how the experience there would prepare me for the world of grown-ups. The educational offerings satisfied me academically, but the social consciousness and activism which I experienced and developed were equally enduring. That continues to be part of my life today. Three structures on campus had particular significance to me. The first was the first place I went to which was Loew Hall. It would be my home for two years. It wasn’t ideal living conditions but probably typical of housing at a college at that time. Two years was enough for me. Another building for which I have fond memories of is Gould Library. It was a great place to study in and the stacks were unique. It was also a fine building for a takeover during a protest. I now enjoy being able to see the giant roof when driving along the Major Deegan. Lastly I want to mention the quad. It was a welcoming patch of lawn in the middle of campus that served as a place of meeting and protest. It was also a fun setting for frisbee games. Even though I appreciate the alumni reunions downtown, it is a shame that NYU sold the campus and removed the opportunity to celebrate there. With some fellow alumni, I visited the campus a few years ago. I found there was an appreciation among some of the personnel working there for us old Heights alumni. I would encourage others to visit the campus and see the old sights as well as new additions. I have memories of many people from my time on campus and still have contact with some of them. I don’t want to offend anyone, but I will only mention three. First is Jon Messinger who was my off campus roommate. We shared many adventures then and still have good times when we are together. Second is my good friend Ron Soloway who left us much too soon. I often wonder what Ron would be saying about the world today if he were here. Lastly I want to refer to the most valuable experience from NYU and which remains a source of continuing education for me. Helen Rubel and I have been together all these years exploring and experiencing, enjoying all the good times of our lives and supporting each other through the difficult times. This had made it all worthwhile. Neal C. Allen 1971 1972 VIOLET, final yearbook published at the Heights. Photo from www.nyuuniversityheights.com page 71
72 page Marty Beckerman Class of 1971 Remembering the Heights As I sifted through my college year memories, I began to think about what was unique to the Heights. So many memories related to my educational growth, my friendships, my reactions to the turbulent times, were special to my college experience, but not necessarily to my experience of the Heights campus itself. I began to realize that what made the Heights significant to me was location, location, location. As a kid from the suburbs of a small city, I found myself in the best of two worlds. It was as if Albright College, the small school in my hometown Reading, Pennsylvania, had been dropped down in the middle of the Bronx. Within the confines of the campus, I experienced the scale and intimacy of a small traditional campus, a lot like Albright College. I walked down the steps to University Avenue, and I was on the city streets. The Bronx may not have been the most exciting place in New York, but for someone who hadn’t been able to go anywhere without a car, it was a big deal to get a bite or to do an errand on foot. (I might add that even with a car, I hadn’t been able to get pizza or Chinese food of NY caliber, much less deli or bagels.) Of course, the best part was that after a short walk to Jerome Avenue, I was in Manhattan 30 minutes later. Marty Beckerman MLP, ’71 Photo: www.nyuuniversityheights.com 72 page
Mark Black Class of 1971 Profound Memories: 1) Sitting in the lobby of Silver Hall when President Lyndon B. Johnson announced that because of the Viet Nam War (protests) that he would neither run nor accept the nomination for another term as president. Everyone cheered! 2) The student strike in Spring 1970 when we (students) basically shut down the campus in protest against the U.S. invasion of Cambodia and the killing of four students at Kent State in Ohio. We devoted the remaining weeks of the term toward activism in the local community supporting anti-war political candidates, addressing daycare needs and housing concerns. Students were exempted from final exams and were given pass/fail grades. 3) I became a political activist. Went on chartered buses to both Fort Dix and Washington, D.C. to protest the Viet Nam War. I was tear-gassed both times. In D.C., I took refuge in a furniture store across the street from DOJ, where I fell asleep in a chair and almost missed the return bus ride to the Bronx. 4) Gathering in a dorm room listening to the draft lottery numbers being drawn full of fear and trepidation; some of us relieved and grateful for our birthdays being matched with high numbers, while others with low numbers were scared and immediately started exploring alternatives to being forced to fight in an unjust war. 5) Learning about and meeting a transgender person for the first time when Christine Jorgenson spoke on a panel about sexual orientation and gender identity in the campus auditorium. 6) Coming out as Gay, after an introspective conversation with a fellow dorm mate who later took me on a tour of Gay bars in Greenwich Village. My friends were very apologetic for homophobic jokes they had previously made in my presence. 7) Having selected NYU Heights to obtain a B.A. degree in Meteorology (offered in conjunction with School of Engineering), I recall the ease with which I could switch my major to Sociology, which led me to a career in social work. As Jerome Spar, PhD, professor in the Meteorology Dept. stated when I found Physics and Calculus too abstract to comprehend, “You can always enjoy weather as a hobby, but you may not possess the required skills to become a meteorologist. “My (childhood) rabbi’s wife , who was enrolled in a Social Work program at Northeastern University at the time, encouraged me to make this significant change in my educational path, telling me that my personality and life experiences would make me a dedicated social worker. 8) Lectures in Gould Library by Professors Floyd Zulli (Comp. Lit.) and Richard Hull (World History) with his emphasis on African history. In high school Africa had been referred to as the “Dark Continent”, about which we learned very little. On the lighter side: 9) Rounding up friends and deciding whether to go to Seven Stars on Burnside Ave. or Three Brothers Coffee Shop on Jerome Ave @ W. 183rd for a late night snack. 10) Saturday night inexpensive steak dinners at Corky’s on the Grand Concourse followed by dessert at Jahn’s ice cream parlor or Crum’s. 11) Weekend breakfasts at the “Greasy Spoon” near the library on University Ave. 12) Watching ALL IN THE FAMILY weekly in a dorm mate’s room. (Few of us had our own TVs.) 13) Talking with Lillian Skolnick, the receptionist in Silver Hall, when I felt homesick. She had a motherly personality and met my parents when they moved me into the dorm. This was a big deal for parents of an only child going 235 miles away to attend college. We were from Massachusetts. 14) Walking to/from the #4 and D trains on Burnside Avenue to escape from campus and explore the wonders of NYC! MARK BLACK University College A ’71 (1967-1971) page 73
74 page Photo credit: New York Public Library Steven E. Caplan Class of 1971 I continue, even after more than 50 years, to feel very fortunate to have been part of MLP, the Metropolitan Leadership Program, and NYU. MLP was a small intimate program, part of a large world class university. I learned to think and write as well as begin to learn aspects of leadership. Our small classes were challenging, stimulating, and enjoyable. However, we were also able to participate in classes of the larger university such as the medical school. I remember the professors like Rene Jahiel, Kenneth Eisold, Thomas Frosch, and our leader H. Mark Roelofs as excellent teachers and mentors. Mark Roelofs developed a program which was a model for undergraduate education. Indeed my college experience at MLP and NYU was the general foundation for my adult life, including my career as a physician, teacher, and leader. Steven E. Caplan, M.D., MLP ’71
Phil Chassler Class of 1971 Heights Recollections Class of 1971 I was enrolled in the Metropolitan Leadership Program and I was not going to be initiated into college life with dunk in a trough of water, which was still a tradition on the Heights Campus when I arrived, as were beanies for first year students. So I went down the steps to University Avenue, away from what appeared to be a rural campus in the Bronx. My friends were in Gould Hall, But I was a resident of Silver Hall — with its cafeteria and separate entrances for males and females. It had candy machines before the walkways to the tiny rooms. I shared mine with Ron Modlinger. That first year, we were required to take physical education: that found me in a boxing ring and in a swimming pool — both humiliating experiences that showed how weak I was. Among many events, I remember my first class/seminar with Prof Simon Whitney and the TA Ramaprasad. To get to that class we had to walk across a road — rumor had it that the classroom belonged to the site of a ship design college. The first book we read, if I remember right, was a compendium edited by Erich Fromm of Karl Marx’s writing on alienation. I have read more books by Marx in the fifty years since. I could go on and on with stories: the library was closed stacks with a big study area underneath a dome, in my first year I sat at one of the tables studying (or so I thought), the library also had a collection in glass display cases of Egyptian golden — or some such metal — Scarabs (beetles — it turns out that one of my MLP classmates knew about ancient Egypt (I wonder what happened to him, he left before the first year was done). Then there was the fire in the auditorium below the library, in 1968 or 1969, set it was said by students angry at the “system.” Later we sat in indoors on steps to the library entrance in support of downtown students who had seized the Courant Mathematical Center. I still own and look to some of the books I obtained in college, Karl Polanyi’s The Great Transformation, E.H. Carr’s What is History?, Hannah Arendt’s The Origins of Totalitarianism, Emile Durkheim’s Suicide, Henri Pirenne’s Medieval Cities, Hutchins Hapgood’s The Spirit of the Ghetto, John Kenneth Galbraith’s American Capitalism, even a textbook, European Intellectual History Since 1789 edited by Roland N. Stromberg assigned by George Bujarski (spelling?). My grandson, in high school recently was assigned China Achebe’s Things Fall Apart which reminded me that was one of the first novels we read. My mom saved my MLP final project: students could write, play an instrument, do anything creative they wanted to fulfill the final requirement. It sits nearby as I write this: “Five Modern Visions: Correspondences and Contrasts,” the “correspondences” must have been inspired by Charles Baudelaire, the French poet, whose Flowers of Evil I read at NYU — the project was a precursor to my Ph.D. dissertation, which I earned many years later. Over the years, I must have got into the “swing of things” making friends, writing occasional record and book reviews for the college newspaper, The Heights Daily News — to my surprise mom (she died in 2021) also saved some of the reviews I wrote. In Junior year, when I got an off campus apartment on University Avenue. My roommate was Harold Shultz, the editor of the paper. Until I threw it out a few years ago, I kept the issue from 1973 (two years after I graduated) with the news that the campus had been sold. By Junior year (1969-1970) I was drawn more to the Bronx and Manhattan than to college doings — working at a downtown bookstore, going to movies (the Paradise Theater with twinkling stars on the ceiling) and restaurants (7 Stars, 7 Brothers) along 181st Street, along Fordham Road (Chock Full of Nuts), the Grand Concourse and of course Greenwich Village east and west (I took the 4 train downtown). I left the Bronx for good May 18, 1972. Though I miss it. New York has changed much. I have lived in the Boston area ever since. Phil Chassler Class of 1971 page 75
76 page I’m proud to say I actually had my first production performed on the University Heights campus. In December 1968 my first full musical, Separate Ways, for which I wrote both music and lyrics, was produced at NYU Uptown. A fellow student, Elyce Wakerman, wrote the book. It was a rock musical about hippies living in an apartment building next to more conservative neighbors. It was quite a change for a campus known for conventional standards such as “Pajama Game” and “Finian’s Rainbow”. — Alan Menken, Heights ’71 Alan Menken Class of 1971
Photo: George Argento NYU Alumni Relations page 77
78 page Photo: George Argento NYU Alumni Relations Elizabeth Pimentel Class of 1971 Thoughts on Gould Memorial Library During my four years at NYU Uptown I spent much, if not most, of my waking hours in the library. As a work-study student and a member of the newly-formed Metropolitan Leadership Program*, I was fortunate to be assigned to the position of librarian of the MLP Reading Room. As you approach the big stairway to go up to the rotunda, there is a door on the left hand side at the bottom of the stairs. This was the entrance to the newly-converted MLP Reading Room where I worked for four years. One day, while I was working in the Reading Room and other students were studying there, Professor Martin Schain walked in. He proceeded to lead an impromptu discussion on the violence of poverty — how poverty was a type of violence inflicted on people. It changed my way of viewing the world. When I wasn’t in that reading room, I would study in the library until it closed at midnight. Since I’m easily distracted by noise and others around me, I never studied on the floor of the rotunda. Instead I would go up into the stacks (those little rooms all around the rotunda). They were filled with books, each room with a different topic. Usually I could find an empty room and study there. My favorite room was filled with poetry books, because I’d take a break and read from some of them. The Chapel in the basement was where I went for freshman orientation. I’m told classes were held there as well, but as I was in MLP we didn’t need such a big space. I do recall seeing the Butterfield Blues Band play there, as well as Pete Seeger and other folk singers. Elizabeth (Bette) Pimentel, Arts ’71 * MLP was an experimental liberal arts program that had small classes, lots of seminars, and an interdisciplinary approach. It survived for a few years downtown after the sale of the campus, and its ideals are now encompassed in the Gallatin Program. 78 page
School’s Out: Campus Closure of 1970 In the spring of 1970, Nixon ramped up the Vietnam War by invading Cambodia. This caused massive protests across the country. Nationwide, colleges and high schools shut down as students protested the war. I was part of that first general student strike, one of the largest student protests in the history of the United States, while attending NYU’s Bronx campus. Students were spurred on by the killing of students at Kent State University in Ohio by National Guardsmen and at Jackson State College in Mississippi by police. Our campus was abuzz with strike activities, leafleting, teach-ins, rallies, circulating of petitions, and activists’ speeches. The Black Panthers came and spoke. Faculty who were striking with us held teach-ins and workshops on the war, poverty, racism, peaceful protesting, and more. A big sign at the front gate read: “People’s University.” Because it was so all-encompassing, finals were cancelled and all grades already accumulated went to Pass/Fail. I happened to be having a very good semester, but I didn’t mind not stacking up those A’s. The bigger issue was ending the war. Many other colleges (Columbia, for instance) also shut down and went Pass/Fail. I recall that DeWitt Clinton High School shut down for a time, or at least a large group of students walked out. Some of those students came to us to help put out a newspaper on the issues for their classmates. At the Square, students took over Courant Institute because of its ties to the military. There are always lessons to be gleaned from an experience like this. In 1970, taking over the school and raising the banner “People’s University” across the entrance was an action that felt very empowering. In unity with students across the country anything was possible. Inspired by the closure of our campus by students organizing, protesting, and taking action, I’ve held on to that belief to this day. Elizabeth (Bette) Pimentel, Arts ’71 page 79
80 page Photo by Eugene Schwartz, Arts ’71. This is an actual photo taken from the student strike/shutdown.
page 81 Robert Pizzimenti Class of 1971 Remembering The Heights It was a crystal clear, sparkling day in September 1967 when I arrived on the NYU campus. I had no idea at the time how impactful the next few years would be. I was a molecule of life floating in a changing society of molecules. I must have put on a thick costume to cover my uncertainties and confusions. I was so unsure of myself and inauthentic that it never occurred to me that anyone else in the class was similarly confused. The Heights would become the venue in which many of us would find ourselves and each other. As for The Heights itself, it was the predominantly Greek look and feel that I think spoke to my soul. I don’t know if it did so at the time but in looking back over the many years I am still touched by the grace and the promise that those structures stirred in me. The Library with its modest but powerful dome was a beacon of culture and learning. Of course, The Colonnades, and its majestic view of the Hudson was like walking through time itself. I spent many hours in the Bair Browsing Room listening to Dylan Thomas reading his poetry to “the old ladies.” For a young man, full of insecurities and fears, The Heights offered a connection to a world of noble ideas, great art, music and knowledge. I think at one time I came to resent NYU and the Heights because it failed to fulfill on its promise and potential but, in the final analysis, it was me who had failed. The most important and lovely part of the campus however was its occupants. The students and professors who were my extended family for a few years have stayed in my heart these past fifty years. Sometimes it is with great joy that I recall them and sometimes it is with great pain of loves lost and opportunities missed. There were long train rides down to The Filmore East and Ratners. There were also long train rides to take a Staten Island Ferry ride in February. There was drugs and sexual experimentation. There was learning. There was fear for our future and for our country’s future. But The Heights was always a haven to which to return and to try to do better next time. And now, as time is most definitely running its inevitable pace, The Heights is nothing more than a memory; a faint though lovely memory. To all of you who have survived, and even those who have not … to all of you who may have been hurt or spurned or not seen, please know that you are a part of me and I’ll take this opportunity to simply say, thank you. Robert Pizzimenti MLP ’71, WSC ’73 20906 Laurel Leaf Court Ashburn, VA 20147 571-238-2396 [email protected] Photo: George Argento NYU Alumni Relations page 81
82 page Bruce Prussack Class of 1971, 1973 Photos by Bruce Prussack ’71, ’73, ’81
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84 page Picture of the entrance to Heights campus from University Avenue stairs. photo by Elizabeth Pimentel, Arts, ’71
Keith H. Rothman Class of 1971 My name is Keith H. Rothman and I graduated in 1971. I am an attorney and reside in Commack, New York with, Laura, my wife of 44 years. I have three children. My e-mail address is [email protected]. One of my strongest recollections of New York University was the sudden change that took place between the 1967/68 and 1968/69 school years. During my freshman 1967/68 school year, panty raids, penny line-ups and other frivolous college activities were still the order of the day. However, as a result of the Vietnam War, the riotous Chicago Democratic convention and the death of MLK, a veil of seriousness seemed to descend on the campus during the 1968/69 school year. The previous year seemed to have taken place a thousand years ago. The 1950s were over. In hindsight the overall academic standards of NYU at that time were perhaps not of the highest caliber. Nevertheless, I had several outstanding teachers. For example, Leslie Cohen’s freshman English class was top flight even though she was only a second year teaching assistant. Looking back at her notes on the papers I submitted — yes, I still have them — I am struck by the high standards she demanded. Any male member of the class may also remember the short skirt she wore while sitting on her desk in the front of the class. I kept up with Leslie in subsequent years and I am happy to say that she went on to become the head of the prestigious American Academy of Arts and Sciences, one of the oldest learned societies in the United States. She passed away several years ago. I also benefitted from Professor Burrough’s (probably spelled wrong) class on “Dictatorship and Totalitarianism.” His teaching was the product of a deep understanding of the dynamics of movement regimes. In spite of a speech impediment, Professor Burrough’s words were pearls of wisdom that held the class in an iron grip. To this day, my understanding of the world around me has been deepened by his work. I would be remiss to not also mention L. Jay Oliva. His course on Russian history was an inspiration — as well as being highly entertaining — and I can still remember many individual classes. He forever burned in my memory the great events of Russian history. Thanks to him I almost feel like I was present when Father Groppi led the peasants and workers through the streets of Petersburg to seek redress from the Czar only to be sabered and shot down by the Cossacks. I was apparently not the only one to recognize his merits. Professor Oliva was the president of NYU from 1991-2002. The 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention. Photo from Wikimedia Commons. page 85
86 page Evan Senreich Class of 1971 University Heights I am Evan Senreich. I attended NYU University Heights from 1968-1971. I graduated after three years because I attended school both summers. At the age of 16, I started NYU University Heights, immediately moving into Silver Hall. My older brother had previously lived there as well. I had a difficult time living with my family, in Brooklyn, and University Heights was the furthest they would permit me to live away from home. When I first moved into Silver Hall in Fall 1968, I was homesick for about 3 days. After that, I never missed living with my family again. Silver Hall became my home. NYU University Heights was the place where I became my adult self; the person pretty much whom I remained for the rest of my life. I was terribly bullied in junior high school, less so in high school. But University Heights was the place where I found a small circle of friends, where I could start to be myself, and not feel so alone. I loved the campus. In fact, when I first revisited the campus after 37 years as Bronx Community College, I was thrilled to see that it was essentially the same place. While living there, I loved the panoramic view of the Harlem River and Manhattan from my fourth floor Silver Hall dorm window. Set high on the hill, I unfortunately remember my crazy friends and I moistening tissue paper with water and throwing it at people walking below on Sedgewick Avenue; as they scampered away in terror. I also loved the entrance being on the fourth floor, one ramp for the men’s wing and one ramp for the women’s wing. At Bronx Community College, Silver Hall is now Colston Hall, with mostly offices and some classrooms. I was fairly recently speaking to students at Bronx Community College about why they think there are currently two ramps into the building, no one guessing about the ancient gender separation. There was also an upright piano in one of the Silver Hall lounges, and I remember creating a song on it that became the title song to an off-off-Broadway musical I wrote that was produced about a decade later. I also remember the importance of the pay phones on each floor of Silver Hall; the outlet to the world at large. Right next to Silver Hall, the Hall of Fame was really a treasure (and still is). I remember hanging out on its walkway with friends at night; really a mystical place above the river. I also remember one memorable night when I suddenly became terrified that existence probably never had a beginning and will probably never have an end, and pacing the Hall of Fame alone trying to grasp this. I loved the Neo-Classical architecture of the central campus, which was (and still is) fantastic. Language Hall and Philosophy Hall were fine, but Gould Memorial Library designed by Stanford White (which one can see in the movie, Goodbye Columbus) was (and is) such a memorable building. I remember climbing up the stairs, studying in the winding rooms with the glass floors. About a decade ago, when the building was in terrible disrepair, I managed to sneak up the stairs to revisit that haunting place. It was dangerous with holes in the glass floors. Fortunately, the first floor of the building has been beautifully renovated inside and is used as a meeting hall now. Unfortunately, the strange upper floors with the glass floors are sealed off. I also remember how during the U.S. invasion of Cambodia in Spring of 1970, there was a student strike in which students took over Language Hall. Then one morning, the auditorium in the Gould Memorial Library was exploded. I lived in Silver Hall during this period doing nothing, and getting into smoking weed too much (although it was usually called “grass” then). Fortunately, during that period I realized that smoking marijuana by myself was really tedious, and just used it socially after that. In regard to recreational drugs, hallucinogens became popular among the more substance-inclined students of that period. My friends were getting into it, and I ended up tripping a few times on
Psilocybin mushrooms and mescaline. During one mescaline trip, I fell in love with this huge beautiful oak tree right down the hill from Silver Hall. I wrapped my arms around it and was enthralled. Unfortunately, the trip turned bad. I became increasingly scared and decided to visit a friend’s apartment, which was a few blocks east of the campus across University Avenue. It seems like it took forever to get there, and on the way, I became convinced I was stuck in eternity between the NYU campus and his apartment. By the way, when I first returned to the campus in 2008, that beautiful oak tree was still there. I saw that it really was something mystical. However, when I returned to the campus about two years later, I was devastated to see that it had been cut down to make way for a new Bronx Community College childcare center. And I remember the places I used to eat near the campus when I was sick of the Silver Hall Dining Room food. Besides the coffee shops with Greek management, “Spivak’s” stands out for me as the Jewish Delicatessen of the area (on Burnside Avenue.) The last time I passed that spot, it was now the site of a West African restaurant. And I remember all of the night time trips to Manhattan on the 4 train! I would go to Broadway (and off-Broadway) plays once or twice a week. Coming home late, walking up Burnside Avenue to University Avenue became a ritual. It was strictly forbidden by my parents for me to go to the theatre instead of concentrating on studying, but within a few days after moving into Silver Hall I zoomed down to Broadway and saw Pearl Bailey in Hello Dolly. One year after the 1969 Stonewall Riot in Greenwich Village, in my senior year, I came out as a gay teenager, and thus the 4 train became my weekly viaduct to Greenwich Village’s nightlife. My mission then became to sequentially come out to my friends and acquaintances at NYU about being gay. It was terrifying at first, but overall my peers were accepting. (Remember — this was 1970!). I ended up obtaining three more degrees from NYU graduate programs, and at the next NYU school I attended right after the Heights, being somewhat openly gay was quite a rough experience. So I do appreciate the acceptance I received at University Heights. I think I will conclude with how much I loved walking around the University Heights area. One friend and I got into the habit of taking very long walks, and walking over the Fordham Road Bridge into Manhattan and even going to Inwood Park. It’s a long time ago. I’m an old man now still working as a faculty member of Lehman College, nearby to the University Heights campus. It’s hard to believe I graduated 53 years ago. I think if at the time I was able to look into a crystal ball and see the life I would go onto live, I would have been at least somewhat pleased. And I think that my time at the Heights paved the way for that to happen; which I am so grateful for. Photo contributed by Robert Matz Class of 1952 Story from HDN 9/30/70 scanned images courtesy of Harold Shultz, ARTS ’ 71 page 87
88 page Harold Shultz Arts, Class of 1971 I would like to submit some scanned copies of the NYU Heights Daily News from the period 1969-1970. During that year I was Managing Editor of the HDN (which was full time job) and, of course, a student in the Metropolitan Leadership Program, in the University College of Arts and Sciences (which quickly turned into a part time occupation). There is nothing particularly special about these editions of the HDN. But for me their value lies in showing how diligently the staff of HDN worked to keep the students and staff informed of the daily issues of importance to those studying and working at the University Heights campus of NYU. Harold Shultz (ARTS ’71) July 30, 2023 Scanned images courtesy of Harold Shultz, ARTS ’ 71
James Arnold Taylor Class of 1971 / 1975 Memories of the NYU University Heights Campus When I graduated from high school I wanted to go to the Big Apple. NYU in the University Heights was the best of two worlds: the big city and a college campus. Walking up the steps from University Avenue onto the “campus on the hill”. Walking to the westside of the campus, pass the large green lawn in the center to the wall overlooking Sedgwick Avenue, the Hudson River, and Washington Heights, a beautiful sight. Working at computer centers and becoming attached enough to information technology to transition into Engineering for my graduate studies and professional career. Finishing my Engineering work in Brooklyn on the site of what is now NYU Tandon School of Engineering. The circle is now complete. — James Arnold Taylor NYU Heights ARTS 1971, NYU Heights ENG 1975 On May 3, 2019, a ceremony rededicating two Tau Beta Pi Bents, one from NYU’s former University Heights campus and the other from Poly’s former Long Island campus took place at Tandon’s MetroTech Center campus. Photo: https://engineering.nyu.edu/news/unity-sculptural-form page 89
90 page Elayne Weissler-Martello Class of 1971 Thank you for asking for memories! I remember a very inspiring faculty member, Prof. Gutierrez de la Solano, who taught Spanish. He had come from Cuba and had a very distinct accent when he spoke English. He used that as an ‘excuse’ to mandate that we only speak Spanish in class and he would say, “Nada en inglés” so that he wouldn’t be embarrassed by his accent. We learned to not only speak but to think in Spanish, without fear of making a mistake in grammar or vocabulary, because he wanted us to speak freely and spontaneously and not translate from English to Spanish in our heads first to get it ‘right’. Other memories are seeing the National Guard, armed, on our campus and finals not being given during a time of anti-war protest. Elayne Weissler-Martello NYU Heights Arts 1971 Above: Alberto Gutierrez de la Solana Right: photos by Eugene Schwartz, Arts ’71. These are actual photos taken from the spring 1970 student strike/shutdown.
Attending University College in the Heights Changed the Course of My Life It was a rare snow storm on March 4th, 1971. I was sitting in Dr. Catania’s Psychology of Education class behind a cute dark haired girl whom I recognized was also in my Physics class and one of my Biology classes. I had my eye on her. When the professor failed to show after many minutes of waiting I wondered if the class was cancelled because of the weather. And so I summoned the courage to ask the person of my interest “How long do we have to wait for the professor before we can leave?” I don’t think she had a definitive answer and so we left after everyone else thought to do so. On the way out I asked her name. And if she wanted to go for coffee. She did. And we did. We have been married for 48 years now and attended the graduation ceremony for the class of 2022 in Yankee Stadium (to honor the class of 1972) Dennis and Joan Davan — University College Joan M. Ameer Class of 1972 Dennis P. Davan Class of 1972 View of 2022 Graduation Ceremony at Yankee Stadium. Photo contributed by Joel Leider — Class of 1972 page 91
92 page Carole Carmichael Class of 1972 A Sense of Calling By Carole Carmichael Within weeks of Martin Luther King Jr.’s death, a gift arrived in my mailbox bearing his name. I was not an heir nor a distant relative. Unlike King, I was not born in the segregated South but, with little difference, lived in a racially relegated Black community, Brooklyn’s Bedford Stuyvesant. My parents were southerners who, like millions of other African Americans in the early 1940’s, fled from there to New York as migrants bearing the scars of Jim Crow. As Black Americans, we learned to love America long before it loved us. While I had a deep reverence for Dr. King, we never met. Yet, upon his death, I received a letter bearing the news of a scholarship—a gift—in his name to attend the then University College of Arts and Sciences at New York University’s elite campus in the Bronx. NYU fashioned this campus in step with the Ivies and other prestigious colleges, setting competitive academic standards and sporting competition in sailing, fencing, and golf, activities that this Brooklyn girl had yet to experience. Before the award letter arrived, I was destined to attend one of New York’s city colleges where free tuition provided a solid education but offered no residential community. With its white columned buildings, grassy knolls and residential dormitories, NYU’s Bronx campus provided the exposure I had imagined college to be. Discourse extolled in the classroom. The social interaction of living with those racially and culturally different from me was encountered in the dormitories and across campus activities. I was thrilled to be invited and did not come alone. Seventy-seven Black and Puerto Rican students were granted scholarships and enrolled as Martin Luther King scholars in the fall of 1968, 59 attending University College, and 18, the School of Engineering. To the dozen or so Puerto Rican and Black students and athletes upper-class men and women, our arrival felt like critical mass. Another 59 would join us the following year. Fewer awards continued to be granted in succeeding years until the scholarship expired with the class entering 1971. We defied the white stereotypical view at the time of being uneducated and from broken homes, coming instead from whole and healthy working class families and at the top of our class as honor society members who excelled in the city competitive high schools including Bronx High School of Science, Brooklyn Technical and Cardinal Spellman High Schools. I brought with me an aspiration to become a high school English teacher. In the semester before graduating, however, a new seed was planted when I took a journalism class with my first and only African American teacher. Thomas A. Johnson was a national correspondent for the New York Times and an adjunct at NYU’s Washington Square campus when I enrolled in his journalism class. Upon completion he encouraged me to consider journalism as a profession, a pursuit that placed me on the forefront of journalists who integrated newsrooms and ascended into leadership. It was the age of Aquarius, Jupiter was aligned with Mars. We embraced James Brown’s “Say it Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud,” professing to make a difference in the world. Upon graduating in 1972, we held the promise of our potential. It would be four decades before I understood how that promise had been fulfilled by my scholarship colleagues. A reunion of MLK Scholars unlocked the heights to which this cohort had achieved. Eunice Reddick had served as a career diplomat and later ambassador with the State Department. Fernando Ferrer had sought public office and served as the Bronx Borough President. We landed in fields where we were often the first and the only. Those graduating from the School of Engineers were not only highly recruited but contributed to the thrust of technology, working for companies
like Intel—Ronald Sparrow—in little known places at the time like Mountain View, California long before it became a tech destination. We put satellites in space—Randy Gee—that provided pathways for the Global Positioning System (GPS) used today for navigation. Our work was recognized with accolades of distinction in electro physics and software engineering—David Parker. As obstetricians and pediatricians we brought babies into the world—Marsha Berkeley—and nurtured them through infancy—Denise Braithwaite. We became medical specialists in gastroenterology—Aubrey Peart— and public health—Raymond Croskey. We fought crime as lawyers, Richard Baker, public defenders, Marta Ceballos, and judges, Kenneth Thompson. We earned doctorate degree and put them to use in a wide-swath of academic disciplines from the Humanities, David Anthony, and education, Richelle Cully Talbert, to the advancement in the field of psychology for women of color and sexual minorities, Beverly Green. We broke the gender barrier as one of the first women hired into the New York City Police Department, rose to the rank of lieutenant and took that experience to lead a global security department for ESPN, Alicia Parker. We circled the globe multiple times touching each and every continent as an engineer, Cornell Slade, and an information technology exec, Darlene Shamsid Deen. Our work was recognized with distinction in the field of logistics and transportation, Iris Mustafa and banking, Anne Bush. Yet, despite our achievements none amongst us knew the genesis of the scholarship—how it was created, who provided the money and how we were chosen. I was haunted by the knowledge that Dr. King’s death had brought forth this opportunity and was moved to find answers. With little expectation of what my curiosity might uncover, I decided to place these questions under my journalistic lens and began the search carving out extra days to spend in the University Archives on every trip I made from Seattle to New York. Tucked deeply away in archival boxes at NYU where it had resided for decades, I found our story awaiting to be brought into the light. From the top of the first box, I lifted a photocopy of the New York Times articles published seven days after King’s April 4th death where President James Hester announced the establishment of the million-dollar scholarship fund. I plunged my search into President Hester’s 1968 personal correspondence file. I was stopped by the crinkling of the translucent onion skinned paper. “Dear Mrs. Coretta Scott King,” the letter began. “The New York University community like the rest of the country was shocked and grieved by the death of your husband.” “Such a find,” I whispered to myself. Dr. Hester offered his condolences and told her he had asked his board chair, Brooke Astor, to lead a million-dollar fund to raise scholarship money to increase the number of blacks and Puerto Ricans earning degrees from across the university. Below this letter, I found an engraved thank you card acknowledging the president’s expression of sympathy from Mrs. King and her children. And then I discovered a letter from her. “It is encouraging to hear the plans to increase the number of minority group personnel, both students and faculty,” she wrote. “As you say, there is much to be done throughout the country—and throughout the world—to overcome the evils of war, poverty and racism.” She concluded her letter with a message directed to the scholarship recipients but never shared with us. “Let us hope that the students of New York University, with the added educational advantages and incentives you mention, will feel a special sense of calling to love and serve humanity as my husband described his commitment. It is by our deeds, large and small, that we can honor his memory, and each person must find his own way to make whatever contribution he can. My eyes watered. I’m overcome with gratitude. Here was the living proof, the root, the source of my education. My history found. Carole Carmichael, a 1972 graduate of the University Heights College of Arts and Sciences, spent her career as a journalist in Omaha, Nebraska, New York, Philadelphia and Seattle. She is working on a memoir about the Martin Luther King Scholars at New York University. page 93
94 page Marian Cohn Class of 1972 After my parents died (circa 2017), I had to empty out the modest house of my childhood in order to put it up for sale. My bedroom, including all the over-stuffed shelves and drawers in the cabinets, stood pretty much as it was when I went off to NYU — I never lived there again after my graduation in 1972. So, when I went through the long-unopened drawers to empty them, I discovered among many other forgotten mementos the original letter, dated 19 July 1970, informing me of the name of the person who would be my roommate in Silver Hall for junior year. Ironically, she and I shared not only a dorm room, but the same first name: Marian. We even spelled our names alike — the less common version. In any case, I thought this is a quirky little memento of life at NYU uptown in 1970.
Mindy Gershon Class of 1972 May, 1970 In the Fall of 2022, I went to an NYU reunion, 50 years after I graduated. One of the administrators talked about the times we were in back then — the usual flattened overview of the ’60’s: sex, drugs and rock and roll, no mention of the political turmoil in the country and the radical politics taking hold of so many of my classmates, setting many of us on a course of social justice organizing and human rights defending for the rest of our days. I was enrolled at NYU Uptown, in the Metropolitan Leadership Program, from September 1968 through May of 1972. The NYU administration abandoned the Uptown campus a year later, finding the West Bronx becoming, let’s say, too colorful to be home to the students they wanted. That campus is now the home of Bronx Community College, part of the CUNY system. My first two years were pretty uneventful, other than a heavy load of school work assigned by my professors (no adjuncts then), three part-time jobs, losing my religion and my virginity, lots of demonstrating against the war, learning about the Women’s Liberation Movement, about how the personal is political and, oh yeah, lots of pot. Then, at the end of my sophomore year, Nixon invaded Cambodia. Schools across the country blew up. (No, not literally, though there were ROTC buildings that did not make it through to the Fall). I date my getting involved in “The Movement” to those weeks in May, 1970. I had gone to antiwar demonstrations, but I did not yet see myself as an activist. But then, when Nixon announced to a national television audience that US troops were invading Cambodia, I felt that I could no longer just be a critic. page 95
96 page After Nixon’s TV announcement, hundreds of NYU Uptown students met to figure out what to do. They expressed their horror and disgust and anger at the ongoing, escalating war and voted to go out on strike and, incredibly, the majority of the student body was on board. We shut down NYU Uptown. There were no final exams and no grades for the second semester of 1970. My college transcript indicates 16 credits of PASS for the semester. It’s difficult to reconstruct in my own mind what it felt like to be so young, just shy of my nineteenth birthday, in the midst of the first national student strike the country had ever seen. When, a few days later, the news hit about students killed at Kent State in Ohio, and shortly after, about Jackson State in Mississippi, things further exploded. We stayed up all night — researching (without computers) the network of military and corporate investments held by individuals on the NYU Board of Trustees, silk-screening clenched fists on t-shirts, arranging teach-ins about the history of the war in Vietnam and about white supremacy and structural racism and about the Women’s Liberation Movement (not yet demeaned with the moniker “women’s lib”). At antiwar demonstrations, our slogans ranged from “Stop the War” to “End US Imperialism” to “Free All Political Prisoners”. All photos contributed by Mindy Gershon.
There were students who decided to flee the campus to return home to find summer jobs early; more were pulled out by terrified parents. Ohio wasn’t the only state where the National Guard had been called up. By the end of May, troops had been mobilized and police forces were on high alert across the country. Millions of us were not intimidated, we were outraged — and driven to keep protesting and keep organizing. We reached out to West Bronx community organizations about mobilizing for what became a massive demonstration against the war starting at the military recruiting station and marching down the Grand Concourse. There were thousands of us. In addition to the NYU students and faculty, there were students and faculty from Taft and Walton high schools and from Lehman College and Fordham University. And there were clergy and their parishioners from local churches. By mid-May, there were 883 US campuses where protest activities were reported, according to the University of Washington Mapping American Social Movements Project. Millions of students, many of whom had never participated in the antiwar movement before, took part. NYU (both campuses), completely shut down for the remainder of the school year. We met to figure out how to keep activism going on campus. We understood, a bit late, that the university should be more connected to people in the surrounding neighborhood. When we listened to local activists, the lack of day care services was mentioned over and over. We told the administrators that we were going to provide daycare services for children living nearby for the next few months, till school resumed. Startlingly, the school’s administration said OK — if folks were using the university’s resources (space) to provide a Serve the People program to the community, they didn’t mind. Professors who wanted to help were encouraged to volunteer their time. They even let us stay in the Silver dorm over the summer for free. Those of us who stayed in those free dorms were working to create a different kind of institution with a different kind of relationship to the Black and Brown working class people living all around the school, people whose kids were quite unlikely to ever attend NYU, Uptown or Downtown. We were exhausted, enraged and exhilarated. We were in an environment where all of daily life was different. Classes, papers, tests no longer had claims on our time. We were ON STRIKE! The struggle demanded that we do new things and do old things in new ways and do them all at once. A national student strike, the dream of campus activists since the early ‘60s, shut down a large chunk of the American higher education system. We had pulled it off. Unfortunately, what we then called “the military industrial complex” was resilient. Lacking experience, absent planning beyond the next days or weeks, without tested leadership to help us sort through options, we did not sustain our movement well. But today, young people awaken yet again. Climate catastrophe. Mass shootings. Student debt. Attacks on reproductive rights and LGBTQ+ rights. Organizing against structural racism and against police murders of Black people. Divesting university endowments from fossil fuels and from weapons manufacturers. Supporting people standing up for justice anywhere. Some of them are our grandchildren, including my own granddaughter, arrested during the George Floyd protests in the summer of 2020. From generation to generation, Mindy Gershon NYU, ’72 June, 2023 All photos contributed by Mindy Gershon. page 97
98 page Nancy K. Kaufman Class of 1972 Memories of the Heights! Class of 1972 I was a student at the NYU Heights campus from 1968- 1970 when I transferred to Brandeis University. I have so many wonderful memories of my time at the Heights campus. Here are a few of them: • Protesting ROTC on campus and taking over a building on my 18th birthday! • John Kenneth Galbraith coming to speak and students presenting him with a live fetus in a bottle! • Jay Oliva, ombudsman and Russian History professor par excellence! • Silver Hall: the view and parietal hours!! • Dear friends who have remained my closest friends to this day (Helen Rubel, Neal Allen, Marian Cohn, Barbara and Mike Grossman, Karen Collier!! — Nancy K. Kaufman, Arts ’72 Photo of Heights Daily News 9/22/1970 contributed by Harold Schultz