“I’d bombed out of a couple of schools,” one student from Cleveland explains. “I was hard for the family to explain away. So my father pulled some strings and here I am in nowhere. They’re safe. I’m safe. I’m here after a piece of paper and if I wait long enough I’ll get it. Everybody’s happy.”
George C. Jordan III, son of a New York investment broker, has been dwelling happily in Fairfield off and on since 1959, when his father spotted the school through an ad in the Wall Street Journal.
“I call Fairfield home now,” he says. “I like the people here. I’ve got my clubs and my apartments. I belong to the Jaycees, the Elks club, I used to be a member of the V.F.W. but they didn’t like me because I was too loud. I was a member of the Chamber of Commerce for a while. I belonged to the country club but that got too expensive. Just joined the Eagles.
“Draft? I’m 25, overweight and have high blood pressure. Furthermore, I’m a student. You’d think they’d give a seven-year man like me a scholarship.”
John McSwaney, 24 and just back from Vietnam , says: “I know a guy who had 43 cuts one semester, which means he wrote the midterm and the final. It was the first time I’d shown. Everyone applauded and the guys yelled, ‘Hey, a visiting professor.’ I was so drunk I stayed.”